Wining or Whining?

Anyone who knows me knows: I LOVE WINE.

I've been trying to learn more about wine, but let's face it. I'm a novice. Actually a novice of a novice. The difference between me and some other folks is that I'm not afraid to admit it.

Have I overpaid for a glass or bottle of wine because I knew no better? Yes.
Have I enjoyed wine from a box? Yes.
Have I grossly mispronounced a type of wine or name of a vintner? Yes.
Have I ever tasted Boone's Farm? OK, yes...but I was a teenager. Some slack, please.

The dictionary defines connoisseur as "a person who is especially competent to pass critical judgments in an art, particularly one of the fine arts, or in matters of taste." Am I a connoisseur? Heck no. All I'm saying is that I'm a fan, and I know what I like. I like crisp over buttery; peppery over plummy; dry over sweet. The more I read-taste-learn-taste-research-taste (yes, a pattern emerges), the more I can blindly detect the differences.

Lately, as I peruse Facebook, Twitter, Google and all other things digital, I'm noticing that many people don't just say, "I'm enjoying a glass of wine." They feel compelled to alert you to the fact that they're opening a bottle of Santa Margarita Pinot Grigio (which is, overpriced in my extremely humble opinion). Or a Napa this or a French that. I'm confident that of the people who read the alert, the ones who know wine just think it's pompous and the ones who don't know wine don't really care.

The more I learn, the more I know what I like and what to look for on a label. And most of the time, it's not the price tag. A wise man (and wine expert) told me that it's wonderful to enjoy a good, expensive bottle of wine - and encourages everyone to do so. But don't overlook and certainly attempt to taste the hundreds of wine values that are out there. And he was most definitely NOT talking about MD 20/20.

That being said, I'm going to open a Diet Dr Pepper, of the Waco region, canned (hopefully) in 2009. I'm saving the sauvignon blanc for a bit later. Cheers!

Giving the "Right" Gift

I learned from my mom that giving the right gift doesn't always mean the most expensive, or biggest or most extravagant. The old adage "it's the thought that counts" is really true.

I've been very blessed in life to be the recipient of some thoughtful gifts. Some more extravagant than others, many small in size but huge in heart. Some favorite (but certainly not all) memories:

- A collie puppy because the giver knew I loved "Lassie."
- A horse because my parents wanted to preserve their sanity.
- A hand-crocheted afghan from someone who really didn't have the time to do it.
- Maroon bed sheets for college at Aggieland.
- A gift bag full of cleaning products to a broke, new college graduate.
- A bookmark because someone knew I loved to read.
- Recycling an inspirational plaque from one who lost a pet, to me when I lost one.
- Airline miles so I could visit a friend.
- Handmade Valentines from my husband.

It's all about giving from the heart and not worrying about the price tag. Don't worry that it's too small a price tag. And if you have the means, don't worry that it's too grand. Give of yourself and give with love and you'll get love back.

Our Christmas Gift - "Chance"

It was the day after Turkey Day and the only things stirring were the sounds of Christmas to come: plastic tubs full of Christmas decorations being dragged across the hardwoods, my husband cursing at the ever-unstraight tree top, a football game on TV that no one really cared to watch and me, wondering out loud if 11:30 a.m. was too early to crack open the Pinot Grigio.

On one of my husband's many trips to the garage for yet another unhelpful decorating tool, he hears a "squeak." Much to his surprise - by total "chance" - he finds the sweetest little constantly purring kitty following him around. Well, you can imagine that my husband, AKA "The PUNisher," named him Chance. Only 5 minutes after he arrived. He fell in love with Chance faster than a new Callaway driver.

Being the responsible one, I posted messages on our community e-mail boards and after a couple of weeks and no responses, we knew Chance was here to stay. Our older cats were beginning to figure out he wasn't leaving and he has actually given them a spark of playfulness that they heretofore hadn't exhibited at age 14. Chance also made friends with our dog, Chip - much to Chip's delight. (He's only used to the older cats ignoring and/or hissing at him.)

So we had a very Merry Christmas - by Chance!

The Least Favorite Things File: Grocery Shopping

My husband contends that in our marriage vows, if he knew “for better or worse” meant having to grocery shop with me, he might have bailed on the whole thing. He’s right. I HATE to grocery shop.

My mother LOVED to grocery shop. To her, it was a social outing. She had her three favorite stores. She would see her friends there. She knew store managers, checkers, sackers and specialty department managers. They knew her and were all happy to see her coming. Not just because she was spending money in their stores, but she was kind to them. She appreciated their jobs and what they provided. Oh yes – and because at Christmas, she baked goodies for them.

I’m really a kind person – but it’s a different world out there now. To me, grocery shopping is not an event – it’s a chore. And it’s usually a big chunk of paycheck, even with coupons. Why is it a chore? Because of the people I usually encounter when I embark on a shopping trip.

Bad Drivers 1 – Outside. These folks can’t seem to notice that the lines on the parking spaces are slanted at a direction completely opposite of the direction they’re driving. And no, you cannot “whip” that Suburban into the space from the wrong direction. These are also the drivers who apparently don’t understand the meaning of “crosswalk.”

Cross Walkers. Not only do these people take as much time as possible to navigate the crosswalk, but they do it at the longest diagonal line they can manage. No straight shot across for them – no. They have to be in the path of vehicles for the longest amount of time they can muster. Kids, cell phones, loose shoe strap, lack of equilibrium – whatever it takes to stay in the way.

Bad Drivers 2 – Inside. Now we’re in the store, behind the cart. C’mon people, it’s America – treat the aisle like a road and drive on the right. Don’t stop, leave your cart in the middle of the aisle, and go back 15 feet to grab the Nutter Butters. Would you leave your vehicle on Westheimer Road while you went back to grab a soda at Valero?

Deli-Tasters. How many samples of ham can you taste? Do you REALLY not know the difference between gouda and pepper jack cheese? If you’d like lunch, hit the drive-through at Mickey D’s. And speaking of McDonald’s…

Out-of-Control Kids. Take your kids to the Playland. I know you’d like to tire them out for their nap, but please CONTROL YOUR CHILDREN. The only reason you should allow them to run up and down every aisle without your supervision is if your retirement plan includes a corporate lawsuit against the store when they crash into an end-aisle display. And thanks for loading up four of them – along with a full basket of items - on one of those carts made to look like a car. You usually can’t steer it and you’re in everyone’s way.

Coupon Perusers. I’m a coupon-a-holic. But I’m an organized one, ready to go with list and coupons in hand. Nothing is more fun than the person on the busiest aisle…wad of coupons (or worse, flyers with uncut coupons) in hand…thumbing through the ones that aren’t being dropped on the floor…then bending and chasing them all around the aisle. You can double the fun if you add bored spouses, an impatient mother-in-law or kids to this equation.

People Who Can’t Count Their Items. The sign says “15 Items or LESS.” Did you fail Sesame Street? (And it's "fewer" by the way.)

Clueless Sackers. Do they give bonus points to sackers for constantly chatting with fellow sackers? For putting the can of V8 on top of my bread? For bagging the leaky bleach cleaner bottle in the same sack with the dry pet food? For lobbing the easily-bruised tomatoes and apples to the side in search of a new sack? For wedging the piece of chocolate-iced cake down the side of the cart so the icing will stick to the top of the container? Bonus points like that should get you a vacation!

Cart Dumpers. Thank you so much for leaving your empty shopping cart in the empty parking space. Not only does it prevent someone from parking their vehicle there, but it enables the wind to propel the cart into the side of my car door.

And everyone needs a door ding to remind them of their fun trip to the grocery store, don’t they? Cha-CHING.

Mixed Messages?

As I sat in bumper-to-bumper traffic this morning (mind you, this was the "alternate" route I had chosen), I was passing time by seeing how long I could keep my hybrid on battery power and scrolling through my i-Pod. When all of a sudden, I noticed a four-wheeled, rolling oxymoron.

A dump truck merged in front of me - politely, I might add - and I was taken aback by the personal displays on his vehicle. The back tire's mud flaps both proudly displayed that glorious homage to women, the metallic silver silhouette of the naked, Playboy-bunny shaped female. This is not uncommon, you'll see it on most big rigs, construction vehicles and many oversized personal pick-ups. (Thanks guys - for scoring points with women, this ranks right up there with cat calls from a group of construction workers on site.) But what struck me as funny was the large sticker of Jesus on the back flap gate of his dump truck.

I'm not a religious freak. I'm also not a raving feminist. So this doesn't anger me, it simply makes me wonder.

I'm pretty sure I learned in Sunday School that God created the female and male form, so Jesus MUST appreciate a shiny silver naked woman silhouette, right? Or is there a contradiction here? Is there a "Seven Deadly Sin" offense here somewhere with lust or coveting or something? Maybe not adultery or coveting, since we don't know if shiny naked woman is married or not. I guess God-fearing, Jesus-loving men can still enjoy the female form - but I'm just not sure!

Weigh it on this if you have an opinion.

Reality TV and the Demise of the Cultured World as We Know It

I’m not a snob. I didn’t grow up wealthy. I didn’t summer in the Hamptons or ask my “mummy” for anything. But I do appreciate culture…and I’m seeing a decrease in a lot of things that promote it. We can banter about texting and e-mailing versus books or the traditionally written word. Don’t even get me started about the insanity that is Twitter – my boss makes us do it, which is why you see it to your right.

No matter what the palette, fashion used to be driven by classic lines, timeless colors coupled with bold, maverick innovation. I hate that yesterday’s Chanel boucle suit is today’s thong showing above a low-rise jean; that a Shelby Mustang is now a Smart Car; or that a welcoming Henredon wing chair has been replaced by a toothpick futon. In this evolution, style and workmanship seem to have been replaced by portability, disposability and laziness.

Evolution is inevitable in all forms of culture…TV included. Classic comedies of the 50’s (I Love Lucy, The Honeymooners), the great westerns of the 60’s (Gunsmoke, Rawhide), the groundbreaking sitcoms of the 70’s (All in the Family, Sanford and Son), the eye-candy nighttime soaps of the 80’s (Dallas, Dynasty), the gritty crime dramas of the 90’s (NYPD Blue, Law and Order) – have all been eclipsed by what has been coined “the dumbing down of America.”

Eclipsed by what? Reality TV.

Let’s be honest here – there is NO reality in reality TV. Do you REALLY think a bachelor/bachelorette can find true love in a 13-week ratings period? Do you think Donald Trump would really fire someone who is attracting ratings? Shouldn’t I be afraid that viewers – MANY viewers – want to see contestants eat a variety of creatures and organisms that were never meant for human consumption? Why on earth as a wife, would I want to swap families with someone? Not only do I NOT want their problems – I wouldn’t impart the problems of our family on them. Nothing gets solved that way. And please – Super Nanny is just pointing out the obvious – bratty kids with lazy, selfish parents. From the promos, it looks as though she scolds the parents as much as the kids…and maybe that is good.

There are a few exceptions. Extreme Makeover Home Edition really helps families – one just hopes they are able to maintain the beautiful structure and it’s newly raised property taxes. The Biggest Loser is great for helping people get to a healthy weight – and hopefully the people are able to keep their weight at these healthful levels. Even The Donald, who I dogged previously, turned his reality show into a charity fundraiser, which is always a benefit.

But in general, Reality TV is a trend. It is cheap entertainment to produce. The “actors” don’t have to be talented – they simply entertain at the expense of their own pride and/or health. It’s not a slap to the programming budget if it fails. It’s easy to throw something our there and see what sticks.

If Marshall McLuhan was correct, and the medium IS the message, then send out an SOS right now! And take your hand off the remote!

Losing Zach - A Lesson in Lack of Knowledge

We recently lost our beloved Irish setter, Zach to Gastric dilatation-volvulus (GDV) is also known as "Bloat," "Stomach Torsion," or "Twisted Stomach." It was a condition to which we were completely oblivious - until it was too late.

I write this to alert all pet owners - ask your vet what diseases and afflictions might be inherent in your pet. The only thing I had ever heard of to be wary of for setters was hip displaysia. Even if you think you're being paranoid, knowledge is power - the power to keep your pet alive in some cases.

On this day, we mistakenly thought Zach had absorbed or ingested some weed killer - and we were totally wrong. We watched helplessly as he panted incessantly; tried unsuccessfully to throw up; to get comfortable by laying down in several positions; tried to stay cool. He didn't eat nor did he drink and as a result, no pottying. When we took him to the vet, they made him as comfortable as possible, tried to alleviate the air in his stomach and sedated him to stop the panting.

Surgery was available but it was expensive and the odds of success were not good. So we had to say goodbye and let God welcome him. After hours of crying we started to look up GDV/Bloat on the Internet. They listed what dogs are susceptible. Surprisingly to us, it looked like a resume for Zach.

Breed - Irish Setter is #4 most likely to get it.
Genetics - Large/narrow chest confirmation, a breed standard for setters.
Age - Dogs over 7 years of age. Zach was 7 and a half.
Gender - Male dogs are twice as likely to develop GDV. Zach was all boy.
Eating habits - Dogs fed once a day are twice as likely to develop GDV as those fed twice a day. We feed once a day.
Temperament - Nervous, anxious, or fearful appear to be at an increased risk of developing bloat. Zach operated at Mach 10 all the time.

The vet was generous and kind in telling us there was nothing we could have done to prevent it. But I really feel that had we known, we'd have done some things differently. RIP, my sweet Muttles. You are missed.

If you'd like more information please go to this very helpful link: http://www.peteducation.com/article.cfm?c=2&aid=402