Wednesday, June 9, 2010


When I’m in New York I think of Minnesota with nostalgic fondness. Nice people. Great summers. Lots of lakes. Now that I am ACTUALLY back and being pounded by one Alberta Clipper after another I am feeling a white-hot hate for cold brown 5’-0” tall snow banks.

I had to buy Wellies to get around. You must be wondering what a girl from Minnesota is doing without snow boots. First, I’m more of an indoor girl, malls and museums, over snowshoeing and skiing. Second, when I moved to NYC, my boots did too. They are there and I am here. So I need new snow shoes!

This visit to MSP also includes my annual invite to a Christmas Eve fete hosted by my friends Steve and Elle. Through phone calls and emails, I have kept Elle abreast of my misadventures in desi dating. So she knows and agrees that my 193 days of alcohol abstention must end. And we have decided that it will be in their lovely home.

Of course, being a Hindu girl living in a Lutheran state I am free on Christmas Eve, every year. In fact I get invited to more Christmas parties than Diwali or Holi gatherings. Which is fine. There is no wine at auspicious Hindu and religious functions. Boo.

I arrive early to catch up and help. I’ve been coming here for several years and have an official Xmas Eve duty, make the toast points for the caviar. Yum. Steve and I are in the kitchen, while Elle flutters in and out with final details. “Okay, so I have some Veuve Clicquot to toast your return to drinking,” Elle says and pours three glasses of bubbles. When she says “some” Veuve she means she has a magnum. Delish! “Your wine charm is Vixen,” Elle says and hands me a glass. Oooo, how I wish I was a Vixen in real life! “Cheers to you,” Elle says, we clink, sip and hot damn, champagne is Durga’s gift to me!

“So what happened to Reindeer?” Steve asks and prepares the meat and cheese tray. “I don’t know. One week he adores me. The next it’s like I contracted Ebola,” I reply and sip golden bubbles of heaven. Did I really give up drinking to fix my demented, burnt out, rusted stars? That was dumb. Alcohol consistently makes me happier than any man ever did. “I think you should stop dating Indian men,” Elle says. “They don’t get you.” Clearly. “So the caviar is ready,” Steve says.

In the loving presence of friends who love, support and provide the DIVINE decadence of food and drink, desi girl gets her drink back on! There is NO other way.


VickyG said...

Welcome back BDD Blogger Chick!

Nancy said...

Phew! I was getting a little worried about you.

Samosas for One said...

So did you agree with their assessment that you should stop dating desi men?

101 Bad Desi Dates said...

Dear VickyG ... so good to be back!

101 Bad Desi Dates said...

Dear Nancy ... I know right? 193 days, almost 6.5 months. Not bad eh? And I was so slim, too!

101 Bad Desi Dates said...

Dear Samosas for One .... :)