Honest, it was the Wine

Before I tell you this story I need for you to know that I am not a stupid person; however, if after reading my tale of missteps you are led to the conclusion that I’m not the brightest bulb on the tree, I won’t argue with you.

On Wednesday night Studly had to be in Crestview, Florida, for a company Christmas party. Since I had an errand to take care of a bit further west we decided to rendezvous in Crestview for the night. I’d get up early Thursday and head to my destination while he’d go north to one of his locations.

We had a quiet, perhaps even a slightly romantic evening at the Holiday Inn Express in Crestview. I might have enjoyed a bit too much of a locally produced wine, but I remember distinctly reminding Studly to get his reading glasses before leaving for work the next morning.

I didn’t sleep much. Sometimes too much wine isn’t conducive to a peaceful rest, so I was up and down all night. Meanwhile, Studly snored. I must’ve dozed off at some point, because I awakened to him getting dressed for work. We exchanged kisses and off he went.

Figuring I was through sleeping I went to the bathroom and what did I see lying on the counter? Studly’s reading glasses. Hadn’t I just reminded him about leaving them a few short hours ago?

I quickly grabbed my phone to call him, but was surprised to hear his phone ringing on his bedside table. Crap. Not only had he left his glasses, he’d also forgotten his phone! What a doofus!

Quickly I pulled my blue jeans on and grabbed my coat, throwing it on over my pajamas. I slipped my boots on without socks, slipped the room key into my back pocket and hurried to the elevators with Studly’s glasses and cell phone in hand. I was hoping Studly had stopped to eat a bite of breakfast before leaving the hotel so I could catch him.

The elevator was slow as molasses, but soon I was in the breakfast room. I’d left my own glasses in the room, so I had to squint to see if he was in the area. No Studly. I went to the lobby and squinted. No Studly. Out the door I went. There parked beneath the hotel awning was his unoccupied car. At least he hadn’t left yet, so he must’ve realized he didn’t have his stuff and gone back to the room.

I hurried back to the elevator, knowing there was a possibility he’d be coming down as I went up, but hoped he’d be knocking on the bedroom door thinking I was in the shower.

Sure enough when I rounded the corner there he stood with his hand raised to knock on our door. He gave a startled look when I came trotting down the hall.

“You left your phone and your glasses in the room,” I panted, handing them to him..

“Yep, that’s my phone,” Studly said. “But these aren’t my glasses.”

Puzzled, I looked at the glasses as he handed them back. They were mine. I’d carried them around, squinting because I couldn’t see, and they were mine.

I’m blaming this all on the wine, you know.

Peace, people.

Thoughts on Killing Off a Bottle of Merlot

I stopped today at a small winery in Chautauqua, Florida. In a tasting room, I sampled the Chardonnay along with a Merlot and a holiday blend. I purchased three bottles, one of each, and tucked them into my suitcase before continuing my journey west on interstate 10.

My plan was to meet up with Studly Doright at a Holiday Inn Express in Crestview, Florida. I love assignations with my husband. The prospect of a pretend illicit meeting with my man is a bit heady, so as I drive I contemplate which bottle to open tonight. The Chardonnay? No, too much of a lightweight. The holiday blend with mulled spices? No, I’ll save that for Christmas Eve. Ah, that left the Merlot. Deep and rich and red.

I can’t divulge the details of our night, but let’s just say, I picked the right wine. Here’s a toast to old married people. We live. We laugh. We love.

Peace, people.

Barely Related Ponderables

What wine pairs best with a white nightshirt?

A red blend of course. Somewhere between the table and my mouth my wine took a detour, landing in a splatter pattern on my chest.

I know I should have immediately applied Shout or some other brand name stain treatment, but I elected to wear it as is, pretending it’s a work of high end non-representational art.

For some reason this spillage caused me to ponder the music of Neil Young. I’ve been listening to Neil on my Alexa device quite a bit lately, and I have to wonder: Where are the Neil Youngs of today? Where are the singers who are raw and real, who wouldn’t have gotten past the audition stage of The Voice or American Idol, but who speak to the soul of the resistance?

Nowadays someone would try to clean Neil’s vocals up. They’d treat the stains and strains and commercialize the lyrics. Screw that. My nightshirt and Neil are gonna resist that shit.

Peace, people.

Here’s Neil’s Old Man. Enjoy.

https://g.co/kgs/xQedfy

Havana (Florida) Car Show

Studly Doright and I had dinner in downtown Havana, Florida, last evening, and got more than just a great meal. After enjoying a delicious dinner and a glass of wine at The English Rose Cafe we wandered around Havana where an antique car show was in progress. Studly even won $35 in a raffle! Not too shabby.

Studly’s favorite vehicle in the show was the green ‘65 Ford pickup. Can you guess which one I’m fondest of?

If you ever find yourself in the area be sure to stop by The English Rose Café. It’s a little slice of British heaven in the Florida panhandle. (Note: I don’t receive any type of compensation for mentioning Millie’s restaurant—I just really like her food!)

Peace, people!

Shipping Label Humor

Today, October 5, 2017, is my 61st birthday. Yay me! According to my youngest grandchild who is five, I am an old lady. Funny, I don’t feel old. In fact, I feel fairly wonderful.

Yesterday I received a beautiful basket of gourmet delicacies from my son and daughter-in-law. I mean this is the mother of all baskets:

Apples, pears, cheeses and crackers, cookies, and a bottle of wine. It’s gorgeous and I’m going to try to be a good girl and share with Studly Doright.

One of the best things about the basket, though, was the label on the box it arrived in. I laughed for ten minutes:

“Do not deliver to an intoxicated person,” it says. I told the FedEx lady it was a darned good thing she’d come before 5 p.m.

Happy birthday to me!

Irish Beer Retrospective 

If you're new to my blog you might've missed some of my greatest moments in Ireland. Studly Doright and I embarked on an eight day trip to the Emerald Isle with a group of golfing friends, and I became enamored of the beer. Yes, while Studly was sinking putts, I was downing pints.

I kicked off the beer tour quite by accident. We'd landed in Shannon around 8 a.m. their time. After going through customs and collecting our luggage we met up with members of our group and met our driver, Paul. We had a bit of a drive to our hotel in Killarney, but still arrived before our hotel had rooms ready. 

As Paul drove us through his home town of Killarney he pointed out several pubs where we might wile away the hours before checking into the hotel. One pub was very near the Malton Hotel, so several of us left our luggage with the concierge and walked a couple of blocks in search of a pint. 

Of course I had to have a Guinness and when the barkeep offered to take my picture I proudly held up my glass for posterity's sake. Some women are born to greatness, others have greatness thrust upon them, and then there's me.

On day two of our trip I asked about local brews, and as it happened the pub we stopped at after touring Muckross House had a local pilsner from Killarney Brewing Company. One of the ladies I was with suggested that we take a photo of me and this lovely beer, and someone (maybe me) suggested I go for a different beer a day. I eagerly accepted the challenge.

My day three beer was a Murphy's, and I have developed a genuine affection for this beer. It's got a sweetness to it that Guinness doesn't have, and while it isn't carried in any of my local grocery stores like Guinness is, I have found it at World Market in Tallahassee. I cheered when I came across it, startling a rather conservative looking gentleman in the world beers section!

Day four's featured beer was a Smithwick's (pronounced "Smittick's," which confused me for a minute or two). Smithwick's is another thoroughly enjoyable ale. I believe it's a match for Guinness, with Murphy's being my favorite of the dark beers. I have yet to locate Smithwick's in the states. Perhaps another trip to Ireland is in order?

On our last day in Killarney, Studly Doright and I had dinner at the pub in our hotel, and I sampled a Crean's lager, brewed in Dingle. I enjoyed my Crean's. It had a clean, crisp taste and paired well with my order of fish and chips.  


A Black and Tan combo was in order for my sixth day. That's a half Guinness and half Smithwick's for all you novices (that was me ten minutes before I ordered one). The Black and Tan combo is in my Guinness glass, while a Smithwick's drinker let me borrow his glass for demonstration purposes. Superb mixing of flavors in this drink, but unless I can get my hands on Smithwick's I will have to wait to enjoy it again. 


On the seventh day I did not rest. Nope, instead I had a White Gypsy beer, brewed in Tipperary. It was pleasant. I liked it even more when I learned that the company uses only malt and hops grown near Tipperary, and their logo might be my favorite. I felt as dainty as a 5'8" tall, 164 lb., pint swilling woman could possibly feel.


Day eight brought the only beer I wasn't crazy about, or maybe I was just tired of beer. Naw, that can't be it. This Hop House 13 Lager just missed the mark. It wasn't awful, just left me wishing I'd had a Murphy's!


Finally, I made it to the last day of our trip, finishing with an O'Hara's IPA. We'd stopped for lunch near the Burren's, that wild, forlorn area dotted with limestone outcroppings and ancient relics. It seemed fitting to hoist a pint in tribute to our adventure. And because I wanted one.


So what's next? I need to find another niche to explore. Scotch in Scotland? Wine in France? Rum in Barbados? Tequila in… nope. Someone else has to taste test tequila. Of course until I replenish the funds in my bank account I'll most likely be reduced to sampling the burgers in Tallahassee.

Peace, and drink responsibly, people!

Looking Ahead

Post-election depression has put a real damper on my Christmas spirit. I’ve shopped and wrapped gifts, partaken of eggnog, and watched hours of Hallmark Channel movies, but I’m really just going through the motions. A future with Trump in the White House seems too horrible for contemplation. Alas, barring a last minute miracle, that stark reality seems to be in store. 

But I’m not a gloom and doom person at heart, so I’ve made a list of things that will definitely lift my spirits:

  1. Hugs from the grandchildren
  2. Large quantities of wine
  3. Hanging out with my kids
  4. More wine
  5. Having my mother-in-law, Saint Helen, with us for Christmas
  6. Did I mention wine?
  7. Studly Doright’s love and support
  8. And wine
  9. Cat kisses
  10. Cheers!


I feel better already.