ok, who drank my wine?

I’m blogging about wine again. How many times does this make in such a short time? I don’t even know…I’ve lost track. But despite how it may seem on the surface…I swear I’m not a wino.

Really! I rarely drink wine, or even wine coolers, and I steer clear of anything stronger at all costs. I don’t take aspirin unless I really need it. Hell, I don’t even finish my prescriptions as directed! I’m a lightweight at best, and a control freak at my core, so consuming anything that takes the control out of my hands and puts it somewhere in the unseen mist is truly rare.

Enter the great game changer…PMS.

Someone up there is laughing at me, I know it. Laughing a sadistic little laugh and pointing. Pointing at my puffy eyes, splotchy skin, and bloated gut. Well, laugh on, you cosmic sadist. Go ahead, laugh on. I refuse to be broken by you, or anyone else. Do you hear that? I. Refuse. To. Be. Broken.

Oh screw it. I’m broken. All I do is cry.

Cry. Cry. Cry.

I cry when the sun goes behind a cloud. I cry when I step into the pant leg of my pajama pants, falling into the kitchen sink, splashing water onto my freshly washed Eddie Bauer sweatshirt, forcing me to change my clothes. Then I cry when I discover someone put the bag of chocolate chips away with only three freaking chips left in the bag. And let me just say…who does this? Someone with a death wish, perhaps? Someone foolish enough to tempt fate in the middle of the month? Someone with a broken cell phone and therefore can’t check the dates on the calendar? Oh, I suspect I know who you are…and you’re the same evil soul who drank the last of my fucking wine too, aren’t you?

Wackiki WabbitAnd people, if you don’t already know this (and you really should) please don’t eat the last of the chocolate AND the last of the wine right in the middle of PMS week. It’s just not fair…or smart…or safe for that matter. I’m already unstable…already eyeing you like a hamburger in the Bugs Bunny cartoon with the castaways stranded on the desert island…so don’t tempt fate here. Play it safe. Bring me chocolate and back away slowly. Offer me wine and hope I slip off to sleep quickly.

Or sleep on the couch and keep one eye open.

I’ll be the one wandering the house aimlessly after dark, with a menacing groan, as I bump into walls on a futile quest for chocolate that may have been left in packing boxes. Something I may have missed from Halloween…or Christmas…maybe Easter.

If you notice a trail of chocolate powder leading through the house, it was probably me as I fed from the baking cocoa when I ran out of other options, because YOU couldn’t leave well enough (and my chocolate) alone.

Zombie invasions? Pfft…I laugh at zombie invasions. You’d better start reading up on how to survive an attack by a PMSing woman!

And you know who you are!

welcome to the chicken show

Well, it happened. I woke up with a miserable wine headache and decided I don’t love wine after all. It was bound to happen. Love like that is fleeting.

I was desperate to sleep in, especially with the lovely dreams I was having…lovely wine induced dreams, I have no doubt…but the husband was insistent. We had things to do today.

Such is the life of a farm family…welcome to the chicken show.

Here’s our oldest Henrietta (also known by their “chicken names” as Black Australorps.) She’s between five and six months old and should be laying eggs any day now. I ask her daily to hand over her eggs, but so far she just laughs at me in that chicken cackle she has. Oh, I’ll get her eggs…you just wait and see! Speaking of wait and see…you can just make out the green and purple irridescent colors in her black feathers.

As you can see, the baby chicks are getting bigger by the minute. We put them outside right next to the Henriettas to let them all get acquainted.

The little rooster thinks he’s the big man on campus, despite his size, and I have a feeling the Henriettas will teach him a thing or too before he’s full grown.

Have I mentioned yet how much fun I’m having keeping up after a bunch of birds? Who knew when my own baby birds left the nest several months ago that I would replace them (as if I ever could) with a bunch of REAL birds? They’re certainly a daily distraction, if nothing else. And one day soon, I’ll have fresh eggs. Do you hear me chickens? Get with the laying already!

So…remember how my husband dragged me out of bed at the crack of dawn this morning? Well, maybe it was the crack of ten, but it was way before I was ready, that’s all I can say. I cleaned the bathrooms, the living room, the kitchen (including washing every dish in the house…by hand!) and I even did a few loads of laundry in that scary basement.

But now, it’s time for bed…I need another night to sleep off this wine headache. And I think my dog agrees, and he didn’t even have any wine.

Until the next time…I’ll be dreaming of a live in housekeeper!

why I love wine

I love wine because it make me feel like a grown up.

A grown up who giggles like a four year old watching puppies play on the floor.

I love wine because it makes me brave.

So brave I contemplate running into the cold rain on my front lawn…in my underwear.

I love wine because of it’s anti-aging properties.

It’s proof positive that sometimes getting older really does mean getting better.

I love wine because you pour it into pretty glasses.

Pretty glasses just like the forty-two pretty glasses I just unpacked in my kitchen.

I love wine because it’s an all weather beverage.

Unlike lemonade or hot chocolate, wine is cold going in, but warm going down.

I like wine because wine doesn’t care if I’ve shaved my legs. 

Or brushed my teeth, or washed my hair, or sat around in sweat pants all day.

I love wine because it speaks French.

And it makes me speak French when I say Cabernet…or Chardonnay.

I love wine because it’s best friends with cheese.

And who doesn’t love cheese?

I love wine because it’s healthy for my heart.

After only two glasses I start to feel all romantic.

And I love wine because I drank some…

But I suspect I won’t love it in the morning.

Until the next time…I’ll be nursing a wine hangover.