cheers

Just poured my self a nice little glass of 1999 Rincon Privado Malbec. It is in a black bottle with a gray and white label. The label has the torn look effect. You all know I pick out my wine according to what the label looks like. A nice fruiting flavor with a hint of blackberry. I just now realized this is a wine from Argentina. A good choice I made tonight for a $10.00 bottle. I wonder what it would be like to drink a $100.00 bottle of wine. I once dated a guy who had a wine cellar. It was fun while it lasted! I wonder what he is doing today. We really had many good times together, I guess the age difference was a bit much for him. I met him at a line dancing class. Oh yes, it was the 96 step “Hip Hop” a very difficult line dance I might add. We both sucked miserable but found each other. I hope he is happy now. Wherever he may be in this world.

The wine guy at Mystic Bay Fred Meyer has a thing for me. He always seems to search and seek me out when I go to the store. Every time we talk which is just about every time except for the days where I try to avoid him d/t bad hair day or baggie pants day. I get so bashful and school girl like when he looks face to face with me. I get so nervous and what verbiage that comes out of my mouth doesn’t even make sense. Why do I get this way? It seems that every time we talk he learns a bit more about me. Like tonight he now knows that it is sausage and potato night for BB and the wine night for me. I wonder if he thinks that there is trouble in paradise?

Why can’t these fruit flies learn to just leave my wine alone when I’m trying to drink it is a constant battle the flies and I. The flies tend to win. Another battle is my DSL keeps on disconnecting. I used to keep guys around that were good for certain things, such as, the computer guy, the handi man guy, the party guy, now it is just BB but that’s ok he doesn’t know shit about computers but can fix anything!! I think that is an excellent quality in a man. He doesn’t believe in God but he can hang a ceiling fan and build me a cabin in the mountains. Still leaves me with the problem of my DSL though.

I used to indulge myself with white Zinfandel. I stopped drinking it because one day my sister the one we called “ding a ling” {she could never keep a straight face when she lied.} She told me white Zin was her poison which landed her into in patient alcohol treatment. This took me by surpize because as I’m talking to her on the phone I was drinking white zin. I guess you could say I had one of the Oprah aw ha moments. I immediately switched to Merlot and haven’t looked back yet.