The Art of Comfort

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Sometimes you need a retreat. A source of comfort. Personally, I find comfort watching kittens wrestle in the grass with junebugs, photographing wild horses running through fields with their manes dyed the colors of the rainbow, or the feel of a new “wild side” Snuggie wrapped around my bare shoulders - preferably in zebra print.

Sigh... Om...

Just kidding. I find comfort in booze.

I’m not talking about grabbing a warm gallon jug of cheap tequila and sitting, smoking and eating donuts in a window seat, staring at the rain. That is SO college. (If I were to do that today, obviously I would choose vodka.) I am talking about the comfort that the perfect drink choice affords me for every occasion. In this realm, I am something of a comfort genius.

On those days when restless sleep brings me to a miserable morning filled with a general sense of impending doom, clearly a drink is in order. But you can’t just whip yourself up bourbon on the rocks at 6am - you might as well email your immediate family the direct line to A&E’s Intervention. For this reason, you have to master the art of the high octane coffee. A purist can just add a shot of her favorite liquor to any steaming mug of java, but a true artist knows that a shot of Grand Marnier mixed with a little blurp of chocolate syrup makes a coffee taste just like a chocolate orange. Top with fat-free whipped cream to complete the magic. Even if your child asks you for a sip of your “special coffee” you can feel secure knowing she’ll have nothing more exciting to report back to Grandmom than the fact your coffee “tastes like candy.”

If your day is rapidly heading to hell in a handbasket in the early afternoon, a martini or a glass of wine is totally socially acceptable with lunch, unless you’re having lunch with Grandmom or at Chuck E. Cheese. For those emergency situations, a nice healthy low-cal energy drink - the contents of which has been heavily diluted with vodka - is always my best bet. For the best effect, I like to don running attire, though I haven’t actually jogged since grade school gym class. No one would ever ask a woman in tights and a performance fleece why her orange Gatorade seems so unusually pale in color. If people do have the impertinence to ask, tell them they should stop worrying about your energy drink and maybe pay a little more attention to their own thigh region. That will shut them up. If they persist, simply jog away.

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