At last month's book club, when I was still estranged from wine, Tani served this†:
Unfortunately, I have no idea how good it was, but the bottle is certainly worth the price of admission.‡
[SUMMARY: Proving one can take enjoyment without partaking of the wine.§]
A couple of weeks ago, I was heading to the pay station of the parking lot I frequent downtown and I saw two guys on the sidewalk. All over the sidewalk, actually. They were gesticulating broadly and cursing at the top of their lungs and taking up the *whole* sidewalk.
I secretly hoped they'd be gone by the time I got there.
One was carrying a briefcase. Surely they had to go to work.¶
[SUMMARY: Silly rabbit.]
The Businessman awkwardly opened his briefcase just wide enough to extract a bottle of wine. He and his compatriot proceeded to drink straight from the bottle.
Just as I passed them, Compatriot sucked down the last of the wine, theatrically wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and said, "Chardonnay!" in a gleeful voice.
At the time, I wished I had the guts to take a picture, because I was definitely blogging it in my head.
Lucky for me, people who carry wine in briefcases are not as environmentally conscious as you might want, and the next day when I struck out from the pay station, I saw the bottle sitting there on the sidewalk.
I got my picture. And there is a frog on it. So good things come to those who wait.#
[SUMMARY: Little life lessons here at the Rickety Blog.]
Also worth the price of admission.
†FOOTNOTE (crossed): And her homemade Tiramisu. From which I was also estranged. It was all very strange, being estranged as I was.
‡FOOTNOTE (double-crossed): Hint: Admission was free, but don't let that distract from the whole Bitch experience.
§FOOTNOTE (swerved): The grapes are *still* sour.
¶FOOTNOTE (paragraphed): No, and don't call me Shirley.
#FOOTNOTE (pounded): ...and are willing to be pushed into the gutter by sweeping arm gestures.
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