WINING

I am wining but also whining tonight.

The wining was the 7-bottle blind tasting we held at our house. It was so much freaking fun. One person picks 12 bottles, a third party wraps 6 of them, then we go through them, one through six, and when we're done, we unveil them, starting with the acknowledged worst one.

In past tastings, we've had $8 bottles beat out $75 bottles. It's strange, everyone generally comes to a consensus on the ordering of the wines. There are usually a few that we love, a couple we like, and maybe one or two clear losers. Tonight was mind-blowing as usual, as hubby's favorite wine placed fifth, and I recognized two of my favorites by taste and was RIGHT, FUCK YEAH.

So. I highly recommend double-blind tastings.

Secondly, I just wanted to whine a little bit. Because I did.

WHIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIINE.

OK, now I am going to finish watching Kung Fu Panda with the kid and go to sleep.

Bonus! Picture I took at the grocery store as it was starting to rain and the smoke was rising from a fire out Indian Creek that a lightning bolt started. It's going to be smoky all up in this valley for a few days.

Beautiful.

Goodnight!

Christmas Eve

I'm caroming off walls
In my very best jammies
The ones with the peace signs
And hearts on the bottoms
And tonight's the night
That it happens for real--
I bet that I see him,
See Santa this year.

I've waited for aeons
Wrote letters and songs
Just hoping that one day
He would come along

And tonight's the night
I feel it, I swear
The night when I finally had
Something to wear

And I have the plate
Of the cookies I made
And I have some milk
And I have to wait
'Cause I know he's coming
And I am just glad

That tonight my jammies
Aren't half bad.

Siiick.

So although, 80% of the time, I am a bad ass motherfucker, there is at least 20% of the time that I am a mess of frayed emotions and sneaky self-hate spirals and general bitch-and-whininess. I am telling you this because when I get sick, the penudulum swings to the opposite end of the one I'm usually occupying, and ALL I CAN DO is whine. Like a tiny infant.

I woke up yesterday feeling ick, and chalked it up to not-enough-sleep combined with too-much-wine. But it was my throat that was hurting, and kind of my sinuses, and my body was kind of aching. And it didn't get better all day. And I lost my appetite, and my throat got worse, and then by the time I went to bed, I was feeling like someone had beaten me severely and forced me to swallow a pineapple.

Then, as I laid in bed, I got cold. The kind of cold that was like being whipped from the inside of your skin with a cat o'nine tails made of ice. It hurt to move, but I was shivering (and therefore moving) nonstop. So I got out of bed, put on a fleece jogging suit, added two downy blankets to the bed, then huddled under my pile of clothes and covers, waiting to heat up.

Finally, about an hour in, I started getting cozily warm. It was then that my heretofore unused brain realized I probably had a fever, as it was about 75 degrees in the house, and I looked like I was sleeping outside in the tundra. So I got up, took a few ibuprofen, went back to bed.

Passed out. Thirty minutes later, I woke up to go pee, then couldn't go back to sleep because I was worried that Wal-Mart was going to sneak into our store and steal all the wine. Also, I could not stop thinking about the Rogue varietal that we had to bottle in the morning. This is when I realized I was hallucinating.

I drank some water and waited for the ibuprofen to kick in. About 20 minutes later, I started getting uncomfortably warm. I took of the blanket, then the next blanket, then shed my clothes, then finally laid there in my undies on the bed, sweating so much that I literally drenched the blanket. Gross.

Somewhere in here Dust woke up to go to work. Around 5AM I finally passed out, and slept til 9AM, when I woke up feeling like every muscle I had wanted to cry.

I am supposed to do ALL THE WORK on a grant today, and all I feel like I can do is sip tea and lie here inert. I am such a damn baby.

On the Plus Side

My legs are so smooth and silky soft (new razors and the best lotion ever) that they are irresistibly touchable. Not to mention that with all my time in the sun today they are emanating a slight heat.

I want to feel them up. I mean, come on.

In other news, Charlie's favorite fireworks were the ones that "looked like a shoe." Plus his $1 tank fireworks. Take note, City of Hailey.

Welcome to the Family

You know, this journal is important to me. But most of the time, I leave it to the absolute last moment of my day, when I am completely wiped out from the rest of my day, and have zero time to do a thing with it. Then I throw something inconsequential its way, like a song or a drawing or someone else's poem.

WTF, me. I am starting to treat this thing like family.

Why is it, anyway, that we abuse family like that? Is it that we are comfortable with them seeing us as we are, or is it that we know they'll be there, regardless?

We should all give our families more respect than that. Well, at least, if they return the favor.

Preemptively.  Otherwise it might be a waste of time AND a bother.

Regardless, I shall honor you, my webtastic family, with a REAL LIVE POST tomorrow. About THINGS! With VISUAL AIDS! Accompanied, potentially, by POETRY! And maybe a release of WILD DOVES! Or maybe not the doves. Maybe... a description of a dove? No, there is no way I am doing that. How about... a passing mention of a dove. NO! A DOVE PUN!!! Or at least some sort of pun.

OK, let's just cut this loose with a general GOODNIGHT. Sleep with the fishes!

Or don't. Whichever.

Instance the First

In which I post inebriated, yet manage to spell all the words correctly, and even use the adverb "correctly" in place of the adjective "right".

Also, in which I excuse my pseudo-drunkenness (which is not really drunkenness, as we all know that involves spelling errors and gross judgment indiscretion) with "heavy life stuff," and leave that stoner term just dangling for the loosest interpretation available.

Lastly, in which you excuse me anyway, even though my excuse is lame, my post is lamer, and my inability to post drunken booby pics is lamest. BUT I DO NOT POST WEINERGATE STUFF! Don't you know I'm going to be pope some day?

AAAAAAAaaaaaaaaah, there it is. The grossly inappropriate comment that forces me to say,

Goodnight!

Nighttime Melody

A fan in the corner
Thrumming lowly, slowly
Muffles the silence

They call it white noise
Because it cancels everything

But I think it just tucks it in
Under warm blankets
Sings it a lullaby
Then tip-toes
Out of the room,

Taking the waking light
Leaving the comforting
Liquid of night

Softening the harsh edges of nothing
With the mellow curves of something

Humming my mind into
The lapping wavelets
Of sleep.