Salutations Mimosa! I hope this letter finds you well and that perhaps right now you are relaxing after your daily calisthenics, a fun game of shuffleboard or a leisurely hike in the park. The reason I write you today is that I wanted to personally touch base with you on several items regarding our current relationship and perhaps where we might find ourselves down the road. "Down the road" is an ambiguous term for the future, by the way. I never drink and drive.
First of all, I believe the best way to describe my feelings to you would be: "I FREAKING LOVE YOU." There. I said it. I even remembered to turn off the caps lock when I continued the conversation. You're welcome for that. Seriously though, I love you, Mimosa. I love when you’re brought to me in those cute flute glasses filled with OJ and when I let out that high pitch squeal before consumption. I love how you have brought more fun into my life than any other relationship- whether it be familial, romantic or social. I love how I can depend on you during not only happy times, but also times when the weather is really bad, like a blizzard or hurricane. Do you know how difficult that is to find in another person/libation? Mimosa, I don't know if these feelings I have for you are wrong, but I know that there is something special between us.
To quote my favorite classically-trained musician, Ke$ha, “I don’t need love looking like diamonds.” In other words, I am just as happy with a $7 bottle of Extra Dry Cooks (still has a cork, thank you) and some Tropicana, as I would be with a glass filled with Dom Perignon and the juice of imported (Spanish) virgin oranges. It would be mind blowing to have that right now. But I know that we’re just fine in this studio apartment in Uptown, enjoying the sweet sounds of police sirens whizzing by, and sipping on a simple glass of Cook's and Trop.
On a similar note, I would like to say how much fun I've had over the years pushing to the limit your versatility and flexibility. Not only have you been open to experimentation and invention, you have also flourished and responded beautifully to this. For example, when I concoct a mixture of bubbly, apricot nectar and a simple splash of St. Germain, I truly believe we make music. The kind of music people that go to Ravinia listen to. I love adding the juices of tangerines, pineapples, (pears even!) to Proseccos, Moscatos, and Cavas. But by far my favorite activity is to up the sass-level and add a splash of liqueur, cordial or straight-up vodka (EEK!). While St. Germain and peach schnapps are obvious choices; Gran Marnier, Chambord, and Tuaca are also known to really set you off. And when we're looking to speed things up, an infused or flavored vodka has been to known to make an appearance, but only to gently offer its services for providing sassy merriment. Absolut Ruby Red and Smirnoff Blueberry are my personal favorites for any sassy guests that may show up for a sparkling pre-drink or two. Have I said "sassy" too much? Understood.
Oh geez, I'm so embarrassed. Here I am going on and on about what I love about you, and I haven't even asked about your life. I'll be honest, Mi-Mi. Can I call you Mi-Mi? Great. I did a little research on you before I wrote this. I hope that doesn't freak you out, but I think in this day and age it’s a choice every woman has to make. The one huge red flag is the controversy of your origins. Some people say you were conceived in the Ritz Hotel in Paris in 1925. Others say you originated in the early 1920s in a London pub, but you went by the name, "Buck’s Fizz,” which is also the name of an AWESOME British pop band. I don't want you to be embarrassed about your background or where you came from. Hell, I was born in Florida! I suppose I'd just like a little clarity. Feel free to respond with the answer or not. I still love and care for you the same.
Mi-Mi, my dearest, I hope you've enjoyed this letter. I also hope it can only improve and enhance our already flourishing relationship. I think your ability to make any occasion an "occasion," is unique and envious among other brunch cocktails. I don't like to make something unnecessarily competitive, but I will say you could kick the liquid butts off of any Bloody Mary or spiked coffee out there.
I've got your back, Mi-Mi. I know you’ve got mine.
P.S. I've had twelve Mi-Mi's and a nap since I first typed "Dear Mimosa."