Why I Choose Wine

There was a night years ago, about 13 years ago I was at home alone and I was drinking a bottle of Black Opal, Shriaz that a friend had given to me and as I continued to drink it, I realized it was awakening something inside of me. A creative outlet in which I had known was there but didn’t know exactly how to reach it. It was then I started to write. I pulled out an old college tablet and wrote, I must have written for hours because before I knew it the bottle of wine was gone and I was falling asleep on my living room floor.

For months, Black Opal and Penfolds, Kanooga Hill were my go to bottles of wine. I can remember going to the local grocery store back in Phoenix and being so excited that they would be on sale for $8 a bottle. Now a days, I only wish I could go into a grocery store here in Philadelphia a purchase a bottle of wine, but thanks to the state of Pennsylvania we have to go to a state store and HOPE they carry what we are looking for and $8, well, I guess if you want to call me a snob, that’s not even a starting price point for me these days. Yes, I have also been described as expensive.

These two wines inspired me to be grounded in my thoughts, in my feelings and my dreams. I never knew just why, until I stopped drinking them. Once I branched out and started drinking wines from all over the world and our country. I started to learn, one glass at time and one region to the next that there was such thing a as Old World Wine, New World Wine, young and old oak, steel barrels and even mother nature herself all have an influence on this complex and intriguing libation.
I even learned I in fact enjoyed white wines of all kinds, from Chardonnay, Sauvignon Blanc and Rioja Blanco. Sparkling wine, Port and Sherry, I do not discriminate when it comes to my drinking of wine.

In years to pass I have learned that wines are sweet, dry, oaked, un-oaked, dirty, rich, creamy, lingering, mineralistic, delicious and yes, even offensive. I’m pretty sure there are a million different adjectives I could use in regard to wine, but those are the first to fly out of my head.

I remember once writing about how trying a new wine can be compared to a first kiss, which you simply don’t know what to expect or how it’s going to make your mouth and body feel. I will stand behind that statement, but further back it up with idea that you can actually have a love affair with wine. Yes, you can actually fall in love with a wine.

Wine is sneaky, you can love it, you can hate it, and you can love to hate it! It often confuses me but it likely to pleases me. It gets me thinking, and feeling, learning and exploring.

I enjoy the fact that you can eat anything with wine! Anything, you can tail-gate with it, you can celebrate with it, you can throw some pasta in a pot and pour a glass and you can simply sit on the couch and turn the tv on after a long day and sip. There were rules, heck, I am sure many still believe there are still rules, ie: red wine goes best with meat and white wine goes best with sea food. Yes, I am not going to sit here and throw those, dare I say opinions to shame, but I say, drink what you want and eat what you want to eat! Break the rules!

One thing I have come to find out is that I am not a fan of Italian wine. Now, I have been told countless times that it’s because I have not had the right one, or the good ones, or from the right region or year, blah blah blah, there could be several reasons, but I can tell you this is for sure, I would not choose to drink wine from Italy. And one of the reasons I know this is the Italians feel that wine needs to be paired with food. You must eat and drink to enjoy is their thought process. Well, readers, I don’t want to HAVE to eat to enjoy my wine. I don’t want it to need something, and maybe, quite possibly this is why I don’t enjoy Italian wines.

Can food and wine be paired? Absolutely, but it can and should also be enjoyed on its own. Get to know the grape, understand it and try to figure out why you chose to drink it. I bet you would be surprised with some of the answers you come up with.

Cheers!

GET EXCITED!!!!!

I have not blogged in over a year. Can you believe it? I sure can't, there has been so much in my life in the past year and a half that I can't even wrap my head around it. Friends, found, friends lost, loves found, loves lost, loves found again and realized they were never loves at all. Family...well, family...music, laughter, babies, marriages, careers, loss...Adventure, extream adventure, illness, wellness, storms and laughter.

My best friend got her own home and a new job this year! One of my best friends got married this year! Another one of my best friends had her second son this year. I lost 2 close friends to petty bull sh*t. I beat the odds of cancer this year. I realized what love was and what a love lost can do to a person! I am still in the process of discovering who I am and how I can love myself.

What does this have to do with wine? EVERYTHING! Wine is what gets me up everyday, its what pays my bills, its what I drink, and its what I rely on to give me an imagination. I am NOT a wine snob, I just like the stuff, I like to share it, I like getting excited about it.

I'm Excited, I am excited to write again, and share the wine and the stories and the feelings, thoughts, smells, dreams and life with you all. Please, I ask you, if there is something you want to know or feel you want to share, do it here...this is not a platform for myself, but for everyone to share what it is about your life, your dreams and your WINE, or....WHINE...

2012! I'm Excited!

Cheers!

Paso Robles

He knew he should have said good bye, but looking in her eyes would have been too painful for both of them. He was just a fool to believe that he could change. Leaving her years ago was his biggest regret, until tonight. Leaving her a second time was certainly going to hurt worse.

As he passed through San Louis Obispo, his thoughts of her were quickly shaken as he looked down at the speedometer. He was nearing 98 miles per hour and realized, if he didn’t slow down, he too was going to have his life taken too early like that of James Dean. These highway roads off of Interstate 46 were fast and the hair pin turns were shockingly tight.

He knew if he just continued to drive over these winding roads he would find a place to settle in, and that would have to be sooner than later. The sun was going to set over the bay and these roads were not going to be very forgiving.

Entering the town of Paso Robles, he saw a sign for a vacancy on a bed and breakfast. Only a few cars were outside of it and unsure if he needed a reservation, he pulled off the highway. Before walking in, he leaned up against the back of silver rag top and watched the sun set over all the old vines. He thought to himself, "I wonder how much pain, how much loss, how much joy, love and life has been shared among this land." Her face came to him and shook him back to reality.

“Excuse me, sir, can I help you?” A young boy stepped out on the front deck at this point questioning his late arrival.

“I’m sorry, I know it’s a bit late and I don’t have any reservations. It’s just me here and I was wondering if you had a bed for one?” His voice cracked a bit, not realizing he must have been choking up with the thought of her.

“Actually, we had a couple that had an emergency back in Nebraska and had to leave this morning. They booked cottage number 3 for two weeks. It’s so late in the season, I have no idea how I am going to rent it out at this point. It’s yours for the night if you want it.” The kid looked like his dog had just run away from him.

“Tell ya', what, I’ll take those two weeks; and if I decide to leave early, I will still pay in full, and if I need to stay longer, keep my tab open. How does that sound kid?” His voice was clear this time.

“Sir, I think you just saved me from my dad having to shut the place down after harvest.” The kid couldn’t be more than 17 years old. By the looks of the place they depended on harvest season and tourists to keep this place running.

There were only 4 cabins at this bed and breakfast, but it appeared that it was a family run establishment. And like most businesses these days, the economy was taking its toll on them.

“Tell me, kid, where I can get a good meal at this hour?” He hadn’t eaten since last night.

********

They had an amazing dinner, and sat outside under the fall night sky. As he walked her through the park and kissed her under the gas lamps he didn’t know he was going to fly to the other side of the country the very next morning. He certainly didn’t think he would be driving through wine country with out her, with out saying good bye.

********

“I was just cleaning up from dinner. There is still some left overs and plenty of wine. Please, come in. I will pour you a glass while you unpack and get settled in.” The boy went back into the kitchen, quickly appeared with a bottle of 2007 Rosenblum Red Zinfandel.

The dark rich color caught his eye. It was a beautiful purple, and sitting alone in the small dining room the fragrance was bold. With his first pass he was able to pull the lush black cherry, rich black berry and deep plum. Arching his back and sinking deep in the leather chair, he took his first sip and inhaled. Pepper and jam. There was a battle going on in his mouth.

He could not decide what exactly it was that he was trying to taste. He knew for sure there was pepper, but there was a rich jam characteristic to this wine. He did not want to allow his personal emotions take over the experience of the wine, but at a time like this it was inevitable.

Her words haunted him, "Wine is relative, and it’s situational." He laughed to himself and, knowing she was right, he also realized he was in a complicated situation right now. This wine was complicated too. If she were here, enjoying this wine with him, the jam would be sweet on his tongue and the spice would be a welcoming surprise. But tonight, it’s complicated.

He took another sip this time, letting it sit in his mouth a little longer. He let the flavors marinate, dance and explore his tongue. Closing his eyes as he swallowed it down, it was smooth on the finish, but left a spice on the tip of his tongue almost numbing.

The kid had brought him out his dinner at this point. A plate of turkey breast, a baked potato and some steamed spinach. Perfect, he thought to himself, nothing heavy. This wine would not hold up to a heavy meal. He was easily satisfied.

Looking down at his phone, all he saw was an empty screen. She still hadn’t called, and he was not man enough to call her. He had run from her before, and she just wouldn’t understand his escape this time.

Looking down at his empty glass, he knew he would be finishing this bottle before the night was over. Just as he was reaching out to grab the bottle the kid came back in to check on things.

“Sir, I just wanted to let you know, your room is ready. When you are done here feel free to leave your plate. Here is your key. Breakfast is served from 6am – 10am. Maps and directions to the wineries are on your nightstand. If you need anything else, mine and my dad’s numbers are on the fridge in your room.” He just stood there waiting for an answer.

“Oh, yeah, okay, thanks, kid. I really appreciate all of this. I’ll be here a little longer if that’s okay. See in you the morning.” He was already stumbling over his words.

Needing some fresh air, he grabbed the bottle and his glass and went out to the front porch. Sitting outside he poured another glass. Looking out at the old vines, he thought years have come and years have gone, harvest after harvest. The ground has shook, flooded, burnt and still today, he sat here and allowed what the earth has provided to envelop him and rattle his cage.

Stepping down from the porch he walked out into the vines. His glass still in hand, he had a really good red wine buzz going. It was late. All the lights in the cottages were off and all he could see were the stars in the sky and the mist from the distant bay. The dead branches crunched under his boots as he continued to walk.

Taking another swallow, he breathed in the fresh air. “What am I doing here? Why did I leave," pausing, "I didn’t even say goodbye!” Was he going mad, he thought to himself as he realized he was talking out loud to the vines and the earth that surrounded him.

He found himself falling to the ground. The soil was perfectly dry and cool, and as his hand reached out in front of him to break the fall, the wine returned from his glass to the ground from which it once grew. He let out a shrieking yell, from the deep, dark depth of his soul. And taking a deep breath he screamed one more time. This time with more rage, more anger, more sadness and loss. Finally, he sunk to the ground. He was deflated and empty. He simply laid there on the ground and looked up at the sky through the intertwining vines.

The drops of morning dew fell off the branches and woke him as the sun was coming up over the hills. He must have fallen asleep. Checking his pockets, his phone was left behind and his head was pounding as if a small child was trying to beat its way out!

On his way back to his cottage, he saw couples walking to the main lodge for breakfast. Looking down at his clothes, it dawned on him that he was a mess. He quickly went to his room. Next to his bed was his wallet, his phone and a note which read, "Sir, there is bottled water in the fridge along with some Tylenol in the medicine cabinet. I found your phone in the main cabin. Please call if you need something to eat."

When he went to the call log on his phone it read, "In box empty." He kicked his shoes off and laid down feeling conflicted.

Cheers!
<3 to MP

On a Small Street in Spain

The city streets were hot all day and practically melted under his feet as he walked. For hours he wondered around Barcelona watching the tourists barter with the locals for produce, jewelry, trinkets, just about anything. All the while he was trying to figure out just exactly what it was that he wanted to figure out about himself and why he picked Spain to escape his life in the states.

Even after the sun had set, the city seemed to have a beautiful, rich color to it. Deep hues of red, purple, blue, yellow and green, everything around him took on a different feel and meaning now that he was alone.

His Spanish was very broken, and so he didn’t say much all day and this lead to a deep hunger. Smelling what he thought was fresh bread off in the distance, he allowed his sense of smell to be his guide. The sun had set and couples took to the streets for what looked like romance. Continuing on his walk, seats filled up quickly with duos sitting, holding hand,s sharing plates, drinking wine and beer. They were all laughing and gazing into each others eyes. He had to push his own confliction aside and push forward.

“Shit, I am totally lost now,” he said under his breath as he stopped at the corner of a crowded street.

There were people everywhere, sitting and enjoying the beautiful night and food being presented to them. He knew better than to impose on any of them, to get his Yankee ass back to the hotel.

Giggling to herself, she could hear his muffled expletive and see his confused look. "A lost American," she thought, and then said, "Would you like to have a seat?”

Her voice came from the left of him. He turned, confused to hear an American voice and not even sure if it was spoken to him.

“Yes, Yankee, I am asking you if you would like to sit down. It appears as though you have lost your way and, by the looks of things, you could use a glass of wine and, judging by the time, something to eat? But if I am wrong, the main street is four blocks to the right and six to the left. When you see the fountain with the three men playing cards you are back in the center of town."

“You’re American!” He exclaimed. “I mean, are you? And sure, I would love to have a seat, and a glass of wine, and I’m starving!” Sitting down at the little table, he could not help but take a closer look at her. Wondering…

“Ha ha, yes, I am American.” She had traveled for the past year and tonight, she didn’t expect to find him. This Yankee, he was tall, with root beer eyes and solid shoulders. It looked like he hadn’t shaved in a good three days. She could tell he took good care of himself, even on a day in the streets of Spain, he was dressed appropriately, not like most men. She could pick them out easily, the kind that picked something out of a bag, smelled it and, judging on if the stench was 5 or 6, showered before leaving. He was handsome and his smile was intoxicating.

“You sure are a sight for sore eyes. I’ll tell ya what, I have been walking for hours and I don’t speak much Spanish. I have only been here three days, and I am getting by on what the hotel has to offer pretty much. Today I decided to venture out of my comfort zone and find something new. Guess I didn’t get too far, huh?” He found himself rambling on and in his head he knew it. He even told himself to slow down. But she was beautiful, she was wearing a black dress with little white polka dots and her skin was very tan, almost like she had been sitting on the beaches all summer long. Her hair was pulled back in a loose ponytail and a red ribbon held it in place. Her eyes were an entrancing hazel.

Before she could even ask him what he liked to drink, a bottle of 2008 Tapeńa Garnacha showed up at the table with two glasses and the waiter poured.

“Well, cheers to exploring outside of your comfort zone.” she said as they clinked glasses.

Both of their eyes lit up when the first sip hit their mouths. Full of sweet soft berries, the rich rosemary and lingering spice at the back of the mouth made them both quickly return for another sip. In unison, they both allowed their shoulders to fall.

He knew that Spain was respected for its Tempranillos hailing from the Rioja region; but this Granacha was alluring, seductive and down right delicious. He almost forgot he was hungry. The tannins were still lingering on the roof of his mouth, dancing around the sides of his tongue and he found his hand reaching for more.

“What were you working on when I sat down?” he asked her.

“Oh this? Just some notes, nothing really. Maybe we should order some Tapas? How do you feel about cheese?”

He let out a bellowing laugh. “I would eat cheese on my death bed.”

It was like she knew someone or something about this place, but before he could even change the subject there were plates and there were forks. And then, then came the food. First, the cheese plate. There were 3 different types of cheese, none of which he could pronounce; but he was ready to explore, and his eyes lit up just at the chance to. Manchego, which is a sheep cheese, was light but set off the flavor of the rosemary in the wine. Iberic, a blend of sheep and cow milk, was nice and creamy in bringing forth the sweet bright fruit flavor of the berries in the wine. And finally the Cabrales, a blend of sheep, cow and goat was creamy and rich almost like a dessert.

“Why are you here tonight?” Her question was quick and to the point and might have taken him off course, but he simply looked her in the eye and said, “I don’t want to miss out on opportunities in life.”

Evasive, she thought, but she knew she couldn’t offer much of an explanation herself.

“May I pour you another glass?” he offered as he was already pouring it. Emptying the last of the bottle into his glass, they both looked at each other and knew that another bottle was in their near future.

“Spain has more land devoted to vineyards than any other country, and ranks third for wine production in the world. Did you know that?” She was trying to distract the tension that was building between them.

His eyes were telling her a story of pain, a story of longing for someone to be near him and understand him for the years of hard work and struggle that he had been through. This was finally his escape into finding out what he wanted out of life and tonight he was finally relaxing, not needing to worry about anything but the moment and enjoying himself, the company and the wine.

Neither one of them had noticed the plates being removed and replaced with new ones. A beautiful salad of avocado, corn, black beans and tomatoes was placed in front of them. It was spiced and chilled to perfection. Fresh bread arrived and a new bottle of wine was uncorked. Cheers!

Suddenly a drunk man stood up and started singing, bumping into the Yankees chair, bumping him closer to her. It was then that he caught a smell of her, and touched her bare leg. Their mouths barely touching, he paused, looking down at her lips and then again at her eyes. He cleared his throat.

“There is a men’s room here, somewhere, around here, somewhere, right.” He was tripping all over his words.

She giggled again. “Um, yes," she cleared her throat, "it's up those steps and then off to the right of the patio.”

They both exhaled at the same time. She thought to herself, "Is it the wine, or this Mediterranean climate and the mountains that are making me feel this way?"

When he returned, he sat a little closer than when he had originally sat down. Maybe there was something to be said for these spicy hills and the juice they held.

With forks in hand another round of food appeared. Corn tortillas filled with a spicy meat, rice, beans, cheese, cabbage, cilantro and limes. As messy as it was, it was more delicious. Licking their fingers, he couldn’t help but reach out over the table, taking his thumb and running it over the side of her mouth. “A little something,” he said with a wink.

Her stomach flipped at the moment his hand touched her face and when his finger touched her lips you might as well of put that fork right into her.

“How long do you think you will be in Spain?” he asked her. He didn’t even know how long he was going to be there but he knew he wanted to see more of her.

“Until I am done with my work, maybe three more weeks. I have gone to most of the regions already, but I am going to spend about another week here in Barcelona and then play it by ear.” She never put time limits on her destinations or woke up to an alarm clock. Her days began when she woke and ended when her mind shut off, which was usually never.

Off in the distance someone was celebrating. A cake was brought out with sparklers and the waiters were singing. The golden crackle of candles bounced off her eyes. He couldn’t help himself as he placed one hand on each side of her face and pulled her close. She didn’t dare take a breath as his lips grew closer, slowly her eyes closed and her lips gave way to his.

There was an abundance of clapping and they pulled apart. Slighty laughing at the kiss and the applause, they sat there and looked at the table that had now been set for dessert. Two more forks and what was left of the Tapeńa. The waiter brought out a dark chocolate cake with raspberry sauce and two sugar cookie crisps.

The sidewalks were starting to clear out and so was the café. They both knew that when dinner was over, this encounter was going to be too. They were both trying to hold on to it as long as possible. But saying good bye was inevitable.

“Alright, so how do we end a night like tonight?” he questioned.

“The main street is four blocks to the right and six to the left. When you see the fountain with the three men playing cards you are back in the center of town,” she said. It was the same answer that started the evening. And in the back of his head he thought to himself, "Shit…I’m lost!"

“Let me at get the check and at least walk you back to your… where are you staying?” All these questions he was throwing at her was starting to make her feel dizzy.

“Let's just say it was my pleasure having wine in Spain with you tonight.” Her look was one he had never been given by a woman and it was sexy, confident, and alluring. It was killing him that he didn’t know anything about her.

“Okay, so now what?” He took her hand in his, pushed her loose strands of hair back and looked her in the eyes, very seriously and confused. It was now he realized they didn’t even know each others names. “Wait… How do I find you, I don’t even know your name?”

She took a deep breath. She knew this all along, feared it was going to come to this at some point in her journey, and pulling a pen from her book she pulled the linen off her lap and wrote something on it. Handing it over to him she said, “Don’t open this 'til I’m gone, please.”

It was then she leaned in one more time and kissed him, kissed him deeply. Their mouths parted and their tongues touched. Like the first sip, soft to the touch in the front, more intense in the back, and lingering for a long time. They sat there kissing, and when they were done kissing he could still feel her kiss in his mouth like the grape skin of the wine.

“I have to go. Now promise,you wont look at this till I’m gone.” She had to be sure he wouldn’t look.

“I promise,” was the last thing she heard him say.

The moment she turned the corner he opened the linen.

Inside was written... ~ A Journey Through Wine

Cheers!
<3 To MP

This is Where I Find My Happy

Happiness can come at the most unpredictable and unsusceptible moments. You may find joy and happiness in the face of your child or the way your spouse or partner looks at you with love or admiration. The way a pet jumps toward you as you open the door. Happiness can be defined in so many ways, too many for this simple glass tilter to count. But hen you find something that makes me happy, I like to share it. Now, let me start by saying, I can’t take credit for this one.
Although, I have been walking through life for the past month for what appears to be a smile that you can’t peal off my face, I refuse, to take the full credit for this night of pure happiness.
Last week a kind man on an extremely long lay over was discussing the different places we have traveled and he asked me, “what is your favorite wine?” My reply to him was simple, “its all relative.” He was actually a little surprised I think by my answer. “Here let me explain, you can be in the best of moods enjoying the best of wines and it will taste amazing. Or you can be drinking the same wine and just found out that your house was foreclosed on. The wine, its going to take on a different flavor. “
I went on explaining how I didn’t really care for white wines but how on a spring afternoon, I found great pleasure in them. Or when I am sitting on the deck with one of my best friends and her daughter, they are refreshing, it’s all relative.
He sat there with a look on his face of confusion yet clarity. He got it, he knew what I was talking about but something kept him from actually saying it aloud, and that, that was okay, because this man at this moment, he was happy. Despite the fact that he would be getting home later than he had anticipated, he had found a place that was quiet, he had found good conversation and he had found a good glass of wine.

Out of his wallet he pulled a small clipping from Wine Spectator, “This is one of my favorite wines.” He proclaimed and handed the tattered paper to me. Cantina Zaccagina Montepulciano. The picture was what caught my eye. The bottle was beautiful, a hand written label with straw wrapping and a small bit of stick deco. I knew for a fact that I would forget the name, but not the bottle. Nor the way the man had such admiration for this wine, happiness, for this wine.

That night we discussed my travels, my journey through wine, his family, the fact that he lived in North Carolina and how I want to die there (The Outer Banks that is). Thinking of him now, I have a smile on my face. Meeting that man, made me, well, happy and happy to know that he introduced me to the happy night I have set up for myself tonight.

Two hours in the gym and off the find a good bottle of wine, I knew I was in the mood for something spicy and Italian for dinner, and for some reason Montepulciano was on my brain for wine. I knew I had ground turkey defrosting, but I had no idea I was going to end up at the worst wine store in Philadelphia. When I say the worst, I mean, about three foreign wines, ten domestic, twenty jug wines and as I was trying to figure out what I was going to get I overheard the conversation of the security guard and the cashier discussing who had been in jail longer. Lord, give me the strength to find something, not get raped, shot or beat down in this store! Just as I was about to give up and walk out, out of the corner of my eye I saw it, this gem, this gift, this bottle of happiness! Cantina Zaccgnini and off to the register I went, ON SALE! OH THANK YOU LORD…you are good today! In Philly you can find it on sale for $12!

Do you all remember my blog about the first kiss? About how you never know if its going to be good or not? Well, let see how I can compare this, see, this is almost like being set up on a date. So, this man, had a friend (the wine) and he wanted to set us up on a date, but was not sure if we were going to hit it off or not. You see, he really likes his friend, reliable, dependable, stand-up all the way around good friend. Again, don’t forget we are talking about the wine.

And then there is me, I don’t know, I have no idea if I am going to like it, I am just going by what this man has to say, I am going by the label, because if you all don’t know by know, I do not, DO NOT read reviews on the wine before I drink it. And here I sit, making the most amazing spicy ground turkey meat sauce and spaghetti dinner, with nothing but happiness in my heart and happiness in my life right now, and I am about to go into the lions den, so…everyone wants to know….right? You all can’t wait!

Ahhhhhhh AMAZING! Its like the most amazing first kiss, you know the one ladies, where you lift your foot, and he pulls you in. The wine, at first sip, it filled my mouth, and it was dry, but not too dry, it took all of the other flavors out of my mouth and left me with nothing but the silk of its own juice. There was nothing felt on the flesh of my tongue but right at the tip, a slight prick and again at the back of my throat, just to let me know that it was there.

I honestly don’t know if I have tasted something as smooth and fruit forward yet provocative at the same time. Sometimes there are wines that will linger in your mouth long after you taste them, this one, only lingers with a smile and an urge for more.

So, for tonight, I am going to leave you with this, the same words, that man left me with that night, “you may never have a favorite wine, but you may find a favorite moment in there somewhere.”

Cheers!
<3 to MP

Seeing Red

There is a calmness that comes right before and right after a storm. Some sort of silence, an unspoken sense of awareness that it is either coming or that it has passed. You can slice the peace from it and hold it in the palm of your hand, lift it to your mouth, suck it in, hold it in your lungs, allow it to rattle around and breath it out, and there it is, the peace, the quiet, the clam.

Have you ever looked at a child about to throw a temper tantrum? Their face turns red, their eyes grow dark, their body becomes stiff and then hell hath no fury on them. Look out world! This child is screaming, yelling, throwing shit, flailing its body in all different directions, going into convulsions, snot is coming out of its nose, there is sound, no words, just sound and all you can do is sit back and watch. Watch and wait while this tantrum unravels and hope none of the shit ends up on you.

Then out of nowhere its over, the child is done, like it never happened, they sit down, calm quiet, almost as if none of this had taken place, there may be a few hiccups here or there, some residual from the storm if you may, but its over.

The day was long, it was so very long and there was not enough coffee to get me through. I could not get a 20% tip out people if I got down on my knees and begged them for it. What is going on with the way people tip these days? I have not been sleeping, I am working a lot and I am just tired. I am tired of trying, trying to try.

So, this afternoon, when I went into the office and looked at my manager with the only bit of energy I had left for I was at the tip of a tantrum and this is when it poured out, “I have to go to the gym tonight, but I don’t want to go to the gym tonight, but I can’t go tomorrow, so I have to go tonight, but I am so tired, I want to cry. I really want to cry. I have to go to Target, but I don’t want to go to Target. I just want to cry.” She looked at me and as calmly as anyone spoke to me, she said, “Amanda, don’t cry. Please, don’t cry.” Here I was at 32 years of age, ready to have a full on temper tantrum. Yes, I was ready to throw shit, I was ready to convulse my body and have snot rush out of my face.

It was then, I gathered my things and hung my head and knew it was not worth crying over. It was not worth my tears. I walked out of the building; I got into my car, and took my shoes off. There is something to be said for flip flops on a hot spring day. Not only was it hot today, but it was thick… like Mother Nature was ready to throw her own little fit. It was on my way to Target that I talked myself out of going to the gym. ‘Well, if I have all of my food in the car, I simply can’t go to the gym, it will get too hot, so I have to just go home. Not to mention, I am going to the wine store, and I don’t want that to sit in the car while I am in there, so there, its settled, I am not going to night.’ WHIMP!

Behind me I could see the clouds go from a simple shade of white to a faint shade of grey, to a harsh bitter black. This storm was going to be quick, fierce and it was going to be amazing. It took me an hour and ten minutes of traffic to get home, but armed with everything I needed I was ready for tonight.

So, my readers, friend’s family and anyone who is willing to give me a moment of their time, I sit here, half in the bag, writing to you after the storm. It was beautiful, the lightning lit up the sky of Philadelphia, the thunder shook our very foundation and the rain washed away all of our heat! This storm cleansed us. There was a pressure that was building up all week, the hot, the cold the wind, and now tonight, the tantrum set forth and brought upon us a beautiful night.

My candles are lit on the staircase, dinner cooking on the stove, windows open and I poured a glass of Tempra Tantrum. I KNOW RIGHT?! How freaking fitting! Now be careful, I was sitting on the floor of the wine store looking three different verities of this wine. This is the 2006 Tempranillo/SHIRAZ. There was a Tempranillo/Merlot and a Tempranillo/Cabernet, and it was the Shiraz blend that I settled on.

This Spanish red at first sip is gigantic and fierce. It will bite you in the ass, and unleash its full body on your mouth with the first sip. It is not messing around. You have to let this wine sit, you have to let it have its “tantrum” and then enjoy it. As you may have learned this about me by now, I just dive right in, and drink, that first sip kicked the shit right out of me, it was like the wine said, “you want to cry, go ahead, I will give you something to cry about.” Whoa! After the first sip, and again the second, I had to exhale almost as though I were letting smoke out of my lungs.

This wine, reached me deep, deeper than the back of my mouth and my throat, but right to the depths of my chest. It puffed me up and consumed me. Nothing and I mean nothing existed at this very moment but me and these first two sips, and that was pretty freaking awesome. Picture for a moment, me standing in the kitchen, while the sky is reeking havoc on the city, the wind is blowing, lightening is blazing up the sky thunder is crashing against the walls, and these first two sips rocked my inner being. Now that is one hell of a temper tantrum!

Sitting here now, listening as the sky grumbles in the distance, and my day seems to fall to the past tense, I take another sip of this red bull if you may, and I taste the beauty of the juice, the spice on the front and the caramel on the back, my tongue is pricked with the bite of the plum and blackberries and I feel a sense of calm. I take a deep breath in, lets it back out, close my eyes and my shoulders fall, it is quiet, and the storm has passed. The tantrum has passed, and I am now left with peace.

Cheers!

And it was Goode!

I broke my first cork! Tonight I broke my first cork! I am now on my 37th bottle of wine, and tonight, well, I cracked the cork!

The weather has been, yet again, temperamental here in Philadelphia. Today we were pushing 90 degrees, and what better than an ice cold glass of wine to end a 2 hour long commute home? This 2008 Sauvignon Blanc is good. I mean really GOODE! Yes, it’s Murphy Goode Sauvignon Blanc Fume, and it’s light and fun, and refreshing. I think we all could use something like this from time to time.

When my friends found out I was drinking a white wine tonight, they were in shock, knowing how I love red wine, but dare I say there is something feminine and flirty about a glass of white wine in the evening? The citrus flavors of this wine are not overpowering, they are not acidic, they sit perfectly on the tip of my tongue and then wash away freely.

I feel that a good glass of wine should release you from the stresses and worries of your day, of your life and allow you to feel something unique. This Sauvignon Blanc out of Sonoma County allows me to reflect on the harshness of the day: the people, the work, the traffic, the noise, and… the broken cork. But, once I allow my shoulders to fall, my lips to relax and my breaths to steady, I realize life is Goode. It’s simple, it’s crisp and refreshing every single day.

Have you ever wanted to say “Who cares?” And really mean it? Honestly, really mean it? It’s fun, it’s freeing, it’s refreshing. And even if it was me talking to the bottle tonight as the cork sat sitting half in the bottle and half on the wine key, I thought, “who cares?” I knew I was going to get the cork out, and I knew I would enjoy the wine one way or another, and I am. Oh good lord, I am!

Ladies, think of that pretty dress you have been waiting all winter long to put on and wear with your favorite open toe shoes, as your fresh pedicure sparkles and your smooth skin welcomes the touch from another. The sun kisses your face and you glow with a sense of beauty. Yup, this is the wine.

Guys…uurgh, whoa, I got nothing for ya’ on this one, but think of how much fun that lady is going to be once you get her in your arms. The softness of her hands on your face, the way her hair feels as she brushes up against you, the sweet smell of her neck. When you kiss her, you taste the sweet fresh fruit on her lips.

Life gets crazy, it tries to break us, but take a moment and just be still, take a sip, take two, don’t worry about that cork that has broken because it’s what inside that really matters.

Cheers!
<3 to MP