These are really going to be the quickest of the quick takes, guys. Not even any pictures this time! Sorry about that, but it’s 9:07 here in Vegas and not only am I sleepy after a full day, I have a little man who needs breathing treatments. Yes, again. It seems that Liam’s lungs are permanently in crisis mode, so that every time he gets a cold, some stupid little lung operator hits the panic button and he coughs, wheezes and generally sounds (and looks) terrible until the cold goes away. So it’s back down albuterol alley for us. And now…
These takes must be so quick that I can’t even take the two seconds necessary to center them. I hope that doesn’t bother you. It’s already kind of bothering me, but I will prevail.
They don’t have to be so quick, however, that I can’t take small sips of port in between typing quick takes. Yum. I’m so glad I didn’t give up alcohol for Lent.
I know that the year is coming in which I must give up alcohol, but I don’t want to see that terrible day. Next year I think will be the year of giving up entertainment, so possibly the year after. I’m not sure. But I know that it will be sad, and although I will be consoled by chocolate (because what kind of nutcase gives up both chocolate and alcohol? Certainly not this one) it still won’t be the same.
Given all my references to how much I love wine and martinis, you guys probably think I’m a huge drunk. Well, I’m here to tell you that I’m not.
On Tuesdays and Thursdays.
Hahaha! Just kidding! I actually try to limit my drinking to one or two glasses every other night or so, because when I drink every day it becomes a habit, and habitual drinking=major badness. But when I have more than two glasses, they just start to go down like water (yummy water) and I have trouble drawing the line. Usually that line is drawn when the bottle is sitting upside down over my glass, dripping its last drips of glory.
Because I’m hoping to avoid a flood of emails telling me that I have a problem, I’m going to end with a complete justification of my love of the fermented grape, brought to you by John Keats.
O, for a draught of vintage! that hath been
Cool’d a long age in the deep-delved earth,
Tasting of Flora and the country green,
Dance, and Provençal song, and sunburnt mirth!
O for a beaker full of the warm South,
Full of the true, the blushful Hippocrene,
With beaded bubbles winking at the brim,
And purple-stained mouth;
That I might drink, and leave the world unseen,
And with thee fade away into the forest dim:
PS: If you leave a comment in my combox reminding me that Keats died tragically young, I’m going to cyber-slap you.
And for the record, no, the lack of sugar is not going to my head. Obviously.
Go see Jen. She has takes as well, hers are also quick, but she doesn’t talk obsessively about wine.
Oh, fine then, just one picture:
|Bread and wine. Oh, heaven. Do I have to go to Confession for lusting after a picture?|