The Great Wine Disaster of 2022

A healthy pour

Red, a Merlot,

Full-bodied.

I knew the first taste

Before lifting the glass

To waiting lips,

And then

One awkward,

Thoughtless move

Sent the crystal

Lurching,

Slow-motion, yet

Too fast for old

Fingers to find

Purchase,

And wine went

EVERYWHERE:

The floor

Countertop

Inside cupboards

And drawers.

All over my khakis,

The ones with elastic

At the ankles

Harem girl style,

My favorites.

And saddest of all?

There was no wine

Left in the

Bottle.

Before I Had a Blog

Before I had a blog I used to just compose weird stuff on Facebook. This piece of silliness showed up in my Facebook memories yesterday. I think perhaps I wrote it the day after Studly Doright had knee replacement surgery. He was being a complete arse, and I was dreaming of greener pastures.

Pretending for grownups part 3: Wine Tasting

I tasted the third wine offering, swished, and spat (spit?) into a bucket and made some noises along the lines of “lovely notes of asparagus and wheat with a charmingly simple nose dusted with peaches and pork rinds,” when a tall handsome stranger caught my eye.

Danged eye, why can’t you stay in the socket where you belong?

He handed it to me in one graceful move. “I couldn’t help but notice you have an incredible set of buds.”

I blushed, until I realized he was talking about my taste buds.

“Which is your favorite wine so far?” He asked.

I pointed boldly to the red, a heady merlot.

“I like a woman who knows what she likes,” he said with a wink.

“Well, I like you.” I smile.

“I like that you know that you like me,” he said.

“I thought you might.”

He sipped the wine. I sipped mine. We sipped. And sipped. And sipped some more, Closing the deal was never my forte, nor his it seemed.

“Are you married?” He finally asked.

“I was. My husband died in an unfortunate knee replacement incident.”

“I happen to have two excellent knees.”

And in that moment I knew he was the one for me.

Peace, people.

Sensory Overload

On Saturday afternoon I was minding my own business, sitting on the couch, and playing Words with Friends on my phone. It began as a peaceful activity. Then others intruded on my nirvana.

Studly Doright had a golf game going on the television while simultaneously watching a YouTube video on some aspect of a 1956 or ‘57 Cushman scooter he’s working on for a friend. The cat was engaged in an attempt to free a trio of small balls from a toy.

Gracie is the best kind of crazy.

Between the tv, the video, and the racket the cat was making, I had to have a glass of wine. My coping skills might be a little thin, but at least I have good taste.

Not my glass; not my wine, but isn’t it lovely?

Peace, people!

Wine Was Involved

Write drunk, edit sober is good advice unless one’s drunk writing makes sober editing extremely difficult.

There’s really no point to this post except that I’m having TONS of fun (insert eye roll) finding all of the little mistakes and inconsistencies in my manuscript. I can see the finish line, but there are all these obstacles in the way, such as wayward quotation marks, accidental apostrophes, missing words, and redundant chuckles. She chuckled, he chuckled, they all chuckled. Back to back to back chuckles are annoying.

I shall stay the course, though. Let no chuckle go unnoticed.

Peace, people!

Drunk Shopping

Studly Doright has been gone for nearly a week. He’s due home any minute now, and it’s about damned time. I don’t sleep well when he’s gone, so I might’ve had a little more wine than was prudent last night.

The good news is, it worked. Last night I slept deeply and had wonderful dreams. The bad news? Apparently I ordered a pair of tights and a deck of tarot cards from Amazon. I only know this because there are messages to that effect in my inbox.

All I can say is, the future’s so bright I’ve gotta wear tights.

I might need these socks sold by The Sock Drawer.

Peace, people!

An Upgrade

My corkscrew wine opener suffered a debilitating injury on Tuesday night. In my attempt to fix it I might have gotten a little carried away and now it’s what my mom might have called “all cattywampus.”

I bought a new one on Wednesday.

Out with the old!

And it’s PREMIUM. I know because it says so right on the package. By golly, I’ve moved up in the world. Let’s hope my premium product lives up to the hype. I couldn’t handle another letdown.

Peace, people!

A Disaster of Epic Proportions

On election night, I broke my wine opener.

In the process of opening a bottle of red, one of the arms fell off. I found the pieces scattered about on the floor and managed to hammer the broken arm back into place. Apparently, though, my hammering was over zealous, and now the arms don’t move in the same way.

If I didn’t live in a rural neighborhood I’d climb into my car and go in search of a new opener. But it’s dark and my night vision isn’t great, so I’ll have to make do with one bottle of wine tonight. Surely that will be enough. Oh the humanity!

It’s going to be a long night.

Peace, people.

Drinking Wine from a Paper Cup

I’m in a hotel room somewhere in Georgia. I believe the town is named Milledgeville. Why am I in Milledgeville? Because Studly Doright came home from work this afternoon and said, “Let’s go somewhere that’s not here,” so I called a pet sitter to watch over Gracie and we got into our car and drove north for five hours or so.

COVID messed with all of our vacation plans this year, so Studly had several days he needed to take off before the end of 2020. Hence, the road trip.

Tomorrow we’ll push further north to Dillard, Georgia. He visited there last year on a motorcycle trip with our now deceased, and much loved friend, Jim, and it’s held a special place in his heart ever since.

I packed in a hurry, so there is no telling what essentials I left behind. I packed the wine, though. I never forget the wine.

Peace, people!

Wistful Drinking

Pour me another

A full bodied deep red wine

Something slowly sipped

Bring me memories

Of times spent on lazy lakes

Simply holding hands

Give me a reason

To hold on when life’s too much

Pour me another

I became incredibly bored watching the OU-LSU football game on Saturday night. Only a second glass of wine got me through it.

Peace, people.

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