- Four years into widowhood, after one year of incredible happiness and nearly 14 years of single blessedness. Have given up perfect manicures and pretty hands in order to resume playing the soprano recorder and to see if I can figure out how to play bluegrass banjo. Singing in the shower. Still really, *really* love to knit!
Wednesday, August 12, 2009
Let he who is without Zin among you...
Please cast the first corkscrew. This is the bottle which LadyZen gave me in March. It has a real cork. [Philistine that I am, I was assuming a cap that came unscrewed.] I have not needed a corkscrew in thirty-four years.
But I have it on good authority that I have executive ability; remember the fortune cookie fortune which I framed? I figured something out.
Pictured here with the biography of Marcella Hazan which I found on sale for $4.98.
Well, I thought I had solved the problem. I got the corkscrew in just fine. I have drilled all the way through to China, as a matter of fact, but I don’t have strength to pull the cork.
Where is Monica when I need her? Oh, yeah. Home, sleeping, or maybe getting ready for work. And Trainman is probably stepping off the TRE as we speak; he is usually at his desk by 6:15.
I even tried pulling the corkscrew out carefully and dribbling a cupful out through the mangled cork. No dice. I guess I had better cancel my enrollment in sommelier school.
But wait. I think it budged. [At least ten minutes later...] Success!
Now you are sitting there, wondering why a good teetotaler like me needs a glass of virgin white Zinfandel at 6:01am.
Lace blocking, my dears. Lace blocking. Rebecca brought her blocking wires to Knit Night.
And after taking a sip of my hard-won Zin, me no like. Into the crockpot this will go, with a quart or two of chicken stock and who-knows-what else. It shall not be wasted. It shall also not be tasted, except as condiment.
Trying to remember why I liked wine, back in the day. [But at least I got to use the blog title, which like the wine has been parked since March.]