|no, no, a nine dollar red that's good? oh yeah|
You can't taste seven wines, and revisit the ones you like. Drink? Well, you can, but there is no happy ending, particularly the next morning. Long before that, there's no joy in lushville. Saturday night? Fuhgetabout it. You want to start hydrating. You want to sleep. And you want to get started on both as soon as you walk more or less straight through the door of your home.
Week three of this madness, I opted to stop seeing the afternoon the way a child sees toys-r-us and began seeing it the way a thin woman sees...well.. See's I became selective. Yes, I tasted all seven wines, but I made sure the servers who love me, didn't "help" me with such generous pours. I also made sure my mouth didn't have left over flavors from the wine-before so I didn't have to drink two or three big gulps to get the flavor of the "new" wine. Lastly, I began to poured the rest of the wine I didn't like into the dump bucket. ( Yes, that's what it's called. ) I couldn't bring myself to spit. It's just not done where I'm from, y'all.
|Kids at wines-r-us. Sweet? yes. Selective. uh.. no.|
Today is wine tasting day. I'm going to stop at Target to buy a to-go coffee mug for discrete spitting. I'm almost gagging as I type this, but I love tasting wine. Drinking wine, well, yes, that too, but in moderation, not in a marathon. I'm using this article as my guide and defense, should it please the court. I know for a fact it pleases my head, my liver and the legal blood alcohol limit for the operation of a motor vehicle. I am however going to bring a few tissues, because I can almost promise, there will be some dribbling. Ack...