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I Love Wine
If you know me (or if you can read ... or both), you know that I love wine. It says so right in my "About Me" blurb. As my first blog, I thought it would be good to share some basic information about myself, and the first thing that came to mind is the fact that I do, so very dearly, love wine.
But, as I painstakingly (HA!) crafted that very first blog paragraph, I came to a startling conclusion. I, friends, am what was known in the age of "Sanford and Son" as a "wino." That's right. I'm a good, old-fashioned wino. I like everything about wine and, if left to my own devices, I would have some every time I put food into my mouth. That's how I commit to things. I go hard.
Now, one would think I'd be ashamed to make such a confession. Ha! Fooled you. I'm so NOT ashamed. Know why? Over the past three years, I have discovered something incredible: most of my friends are also winos! It's the strangest thing.
See, in college, you do college things: drink cheap liquor, regurgitate said liquor, and do it again the next weekend for four years straight (or more, depending upon your school and major). When you get married, you become a social drinker, having Cosmopolitans and Fuzzy Navels, Gin and Tonics and Vodka Cranberries -- you know, cool drinks. But, when you have kids ... oh, Lord! Children turn you. They make you crave the tartness of a semi-dry chardonnay along the sides of your tongue. They make you buy gargantuan wine glasses. They make you spend more time in the wine aisle at Publix than you do in the produce section. They make you add wine-related items to your Christmas Wish List. They make you into a wino.
Now, because I have three children of my own - and most of my closest friends have at least two each - we are firmly set into the wino way. Whenever we look upon each other's faces, we expect wine to be involved. We know each other's favorites. For instance, Miki likes a Riesling and doesn't care if it's room temperature. Boom Boom will sip on whatever is clever and I like anything white ... as long as it's cold and in good supply.
So, is there hope for the middle-aged wino mom? I think so. We are part of a special club. (Don't worry. I consulted Mr. Do-Right before this post, and he's assured me that I'm not an alcoholic. Whew!) We don't drink and drive. We don't hide our drinking. We don't get drunk, and we don't have our kids popping bottles for us.
Most importantly, though, a glass of wine each night keeps me off the local TV news. And you moms out there know exactly what I'm talking about.
Cheers!
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But, as I painstakingly (HA!) crafted that very first blog paragraph, I came to a startling conclusion. I, friends, am what was known in the age of "Sanford and Son" as a "wino." That's right. I'm a good, old-fashioned wino. I like everything about wine and, if left to my own devices, I would have some every time I put food into my mouth. That's how I commit to things. I go hard.
Now, one would think I'd be ashamed to make such a confession. Ha! Fooled you. I'm so NOT ashamed. Know why? Over the past three years, I have discovered something incredible: most of my friends are also winos! It's the strangest thing.
See, in college, you do college things: drink cheap liquor, regurgitate said liquor, and do it again the next weekend for four years straight (or more, depending upon your school and major). When you get married, you become a social drinker, having Cosmopolitans and Fuzzy Navels, Gin and Tonics and Vodka Cranberries -- you know, cool drinks. But, when you have kids ... oh, Lord! Children turn you. They make you crave the tartness of a semi-dry chardonnay along the sides of your tongue. They make you buy gargantuan wine glasses. They make you spend more time in the wine aisle at Publix than you do in the produce section. They make you add wine-related items to your Christmas Wish List. They make you into a wino.
Now, because I have three children of my own - and most of my closest friends have at least two each - we are firmly set into the wino way. Whenever we look upon each other's faces, we expect wine to be involved. We know each other's favorites. For instance, Miki likes a Riesling and doesn't care if it's room temperature. Boom Boom will sip on whatever is clever and I like anything white ... as long as it's cold and in good supply.
So, is there hope for the middle-aged wino mom? I think so. We are part of a special club. (Don't worry. I consulted Mr. Do-Right before this post, and he's assured me that I'm not an alcoholic. Whew!) We don't drink and drive. We don't hide our drinking. We don't get drunk, and we don't have our kids popping bottles for us.
Most importantly, though, a glass of wine each night keeps me off the local TV news. And you moms out there know exactly what I'm talking about.
Cheers!
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