Wednesday, November 7, 2012

Whining about no wining

In addition to wearing a helmet, the older doctor wanted me to stop drinking. At all. I thought and how in the hell am I going to cope with talking to you?

Apparently wine is bad for my brain. I type these words oh-so-reluctantly.

After the accident it was not an issue. My body couldn't handle it so wine didn't even taste good. But eventually I went back to a glass or two with dinner. It was a ritual.

Now that's over with.

It's easier than it sounds, at least in my case. My thinking is definitely clearer. Most of the time I don't miss it.

Except that case of Gist Ranch Cabernet Franc I had been meaning to order. Smoky, earthy with subtle cherry blossom notes. A big, dry, understated red you can't get anywhere else. After all, Thomas Fogarty supports SBI so this would be all for a good cause.

I'm gonna order it anyway. Serve it to other people and watch them enjoy it and get really stupid.

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