Let’s consider pinot grigio for a sec: it tends to be the solid utility player of the wine world. Goes with the flow. Good in any situation. Kind of like that girlfriend in your crowd who’s pleasant, agreeable, low maintenance, and up for whatever everyone else wants to do. Yet wait for the right occasion, and voila—she’s glammed up to the nines and the life of the party.
…too…busy…to…post #getmeoutofhere #pleasepassthewine
I’ve got a bone to pick with the person who invented homework. Oh, and dinner.
Dear Scientific Community,
I heard something on the radio last week that sent me into a spiral of despair, rocking my parental philosophies to their very core.
The five second rule isn’t real.
Apparently, you have again set out to prove that just as much bacteria can collect on a piece of food that has sat on the ground for five seconds as would collect on a piece of food sitting there for, say, 30 seconds. Or five minutes.
Who: Forward by Herzog
What: Petite Sirah and Chenin Blanc
When: 2013 and 2014
Where: Clarksburg, CA (available at www.cawineclub.com)
Why: Because someone needs to learn to clean up after themselves on my commute to work.
There I was, just driving to work, minding my own business, singing (rather brilliantly, if I do say so myself) along to my tunes when…..BAM. A huge piece of construction equipment (I live in Ohio, aka The Land of Orange Barrels) came sailing toward my little car. Seems it had been lying on the road, halfway into our lane, when the vehicle in front of me clipped it in just the right way to send it flying towards me.
Does anyone else hold their breath every time the phone rings during the school day—convinced it’s the school nurse calling!?!?
Note: This post was inspired by Glennon Melton’s “Don’t Carpe Diem”over at Momastery. Do yourself a favor and read it, if you haven’t already: it’s a great one!
Oh yes, I remember: standing in a checkout line with tired young children, one or all of them whining, and an old lady looking at them adoringly then turning to me with a nostalgic smile to say, “I hope you’re enjoying every minute!” As guilt-inducing as those comments were, I miss them. I do because I’ll tell you what: nobody is saying anything like that anymore. I’m not sure when the “we-don’t-think-they’re-cute-anymore” age officially starts, but I do know that no one looks at my 13-year-old boys and my 17-year-old daughter with a doting smile that says, “carpe diem,” particularly not if one of them is doing anything outside the realm of normal, like wearing cheetah pants with patent-green-leather boots or sporting freshly dyed hair.
All week I think “I’ll get it done this weekend.” Then the weekend comes and I think “I’ll get it done next week.” It’s a problem.