Wine and Critics

I have a very primitive relationship with wine. I know what tastes good to me, and what tastes atrocious as sin. Example: the wine with the penguin on the label does not taste nearly so cute as the label suggests. I call that false advertising.

Sometimes I get nervous at classy functions, so I swirl my glass delicately and throw out words like, "tannins" or "bouquet." I've learned not to be too praising of wines either. A good wine critic always finds something wrong with it, so you must give vague and mixed feedback. For instance, "My, they utilized some lovely tannins for this Syrah, but it has a bouquet like the plumage of a wild sage brush." A good host will know what you really mean and take it as a polite compliment.

Pictured here is one of my favorite wines: the Broadbent Vinho Verde (aka, green wine). It has a blossoming citrus/floral bouquet but a disappointingly immature aftertaste that will keep you wondering why they didn't use better tannins. In other words, it tastes more like summer than a Corona with lime, it's an awesome green color, there's a pretty flower on the label and it's very affordable. In vino, veritas...

Joy, Janet and the Yellow Submarine

The Beatles were famous because they blended folk and rock into a hip new genre with shaggy hair and pointy shoes. I can tell you this because that's what my dad told me 10 years ago, and my sisters can tell you this because...

"Rebekah, pay attention." Joy said, without even looking at her, "Ted, how many sharps are in the key of 'E' major?"

"Four?" Ted offered.

There were five of us. We had more originally, but Jeff kept playing with gun shot noise on the synthesizer during class, and Sarah was a quitter. That left my sister Rebekah, Ted, Verity and myself. We were a Costco sized variety pack of personality. Every Monday was a private lesson with Janet Adams, but each Tuesday afternoon we crowded into the living room piano studio for a group lesson with her sister, Joy Henderson. I learned about actual music and theory from Janet, and with Joy I learned how to make music and fun hold hands.

"We have a very neat piece of music that we will be working on this week." Joy paused to ensure that she had captured our attentions and it worked, "It's a unique blend of two musical genres and I think you'll really like it. It's kind of like what the Beatles did. Does anyone know what the Beatles are famous for?"

Joy looked around not really expecting any of us to know the answer, or even who the Beatles were. We had all been homeschooled so it was a safe guess to say that we didn't know a thing about Eleanor Rigby or Yellow Submarines. Something poked me in that part of my brain where connections connect. I recalled my father telling me exactly why the Beatles were famous, and realized that it was time to regurgitate this information. I knew nothing of Abbey Road or Strawberry Fields, but I raised my hand and she nodded at me.

"The Beatles were famous because they blended folk and rock music into a hip new genre with shaggy hair and pointy shoes."

My sisters have never forgiven me for knowing this, or for the favoritism that it bought me with Joy Henderson. But they will thank me someday because now they will never forget the Beatles and why they were famous.

I might be on youtube...

Papparazzi girl,

put down your iPhone and hear;

dance, and peep no more.

I love music. Sometimes it is the white noise that I fall asleep to, sometimes it helps me forget about how much I hate exercise, and sometimes it grabs me by the hand and forces me to dance. Sometimes this happens in the car. Yesterday I heard Jason Derulo's new song, "Whatcha Say" and it beckoned me to dance. A girl in the car beside me took a video with her iPhone and probably had the whole thing on youtube before we hit the next stop light. Little did she know that I write a terrible haiku every day...

Unclehood

I dozed off reading Haiku and thinking about my nephew. The result is not entirely aligned with reality but at least I dream of being a good uncle.

You will stink your pants,

And I will change your diaper.

I am super uncle.

Moving Day

I’m moving boxes and papers that smell

like the attic my grandmother never had.

My room, stripped naked of its former glory,

stares blankly back at me with its oddly checkered floor.

I still see imprints and stamps of old wooden feet,

and there is a couch sitting in the kitchen, looking

more out of place than Pavarotti at a hoe-down.

I have enough dust and boxes to start my own attic,

but it will have to wait until the mantels and corners

of my mind collect more dust and boxes too.

Behind the Coffeehouse Counter

You stop seeing people after a while,

and everyone becomes a fragment,

or an enlarged detail obscuring

everything else about them.

She likes her coffee sweet because

nothing about her last divorce was.

He loves mocha frappacinos

but pretends they are for his pregnant wife.

She is a groggy shot in the dark every morning,

but blossoms into a latte with a milky flower for the afternoon.

He is a foaming pint of Guinness,

who tells me he would taste better in Ireland.

In the evening the pipe comes in with his books,

hoping to puff his way from freshman to Inkling.

He is the silhouette in the clouds of Black Cavendish,

studying only his books, and not the women.

My leggy, blue-eyed Americano sits at her table,

and I forget about pubs and coffeehouses.

She sips from her small paper cup as she turns the pages

of books about beakers and Bunsen burners.

These walls are home to a brewery of happiness.

It is a place where man does not live by bread alone,

But by every granule of every bean

Roasted for his happiness.

The Innaugural Blogging

The coming of Autumn

is determined

by a red dragonfly.

Dragonfly on a rock-

absorbed in

a daydream.

I do not know what this poem means, but it is a sacred tradition to reach for profundity at inaugural functions. I have long resisted the urge to blog for many good reasons, for many long years, for the sake of many good people but alas, I have given in. I will now subject the cyber world to snapshots of a few of the many things whirling around in my mind.

I will say, however, a few words on the purpose of this blog. This is not an attempt to appear sophisticated or intelligent, I gave up on that years ago. I hope to communicate civility and artistic talent of a lower and lesser degree, and above all a giddy and unabashed enjoyment of everything pertaining to the universe. [Note: I mostly wrote that sentence because I wanted to use the word "giddy".]

This post is already too long, but ready or not, here I come.