Oh Dear. Mama's in the Cooking Wine

     So. I had some downtime at work recently, and the new crock pot to break in. Which equaled thinking up recipes to try out in it, which equaled a phone call home and the request that Jasin go hit up the local Liquor store and inquire about a nice white cooking wine. Possibly some red cooking wine too, while you're at it. Just ask them for suggestions and buy whatever they give you, I instruct.

     I arrived home  to 2 inexpensive bottles of wine on the kitchen table, and the next day off, and, being a sucker for white wine, decide to give it a try. OMG. It was the best wine ever. Anyone following Facebook will know that, the next morning I stayed in bed, trying to think up a perfectly rational and acceptable reason for drinking wine for breakfast. Before church and a baby shower for my niece later that afternoon. I wandered downstairs to the noise of duck and squirrel calls their Father had so thoughtfully bought them the day before (The joys of living in the Boondocks and being surrounded by almost constant Gun and Sportsman shows. The deep South Rednecks have NOTHING on the WNY Southern Tier's gun/hunting/sportsman obsession.) and opened the refrigerator and had to really talk myself out of a perfectly respectable little sip of wine. I mean, really, when you think about it, it was going to be a busy day, I was going to have to wrestle with George through church, I was going to have to cook dinner, run errands, go to a baby shower, and my truck was not running right again. Who wouldn't blame me for a little tiny jump start to the day? A pick-me-up, if you will. Why NOT start the day all relaxed? I wouldn't even care about the ducks and squirrels that were bound to be descending upon my house en mass any moment now. I would WELCOME the adorable little creatures even, if I could just have a glass sip of that wine. But, I did not. And because of that restraint, I may or may not have impatiently told George there were monsters under the pews at church who eat little boys who do not behave in church. Paving my way DIRECTLY to hell, I imagine. (The health insurance does indeed pay for counseling, for those of you who wonder if  we shouldn't book an appointment....)

     For several days, I managed to just look at the cooking wine, sitting tantalizingly on the top shelf of the refrigerator. I had things to do, and children I was responsible for. There was only a glass left in the bottle anyway, after using it for my crock pot chicken in Sunday. No harm there, right? But, then there was the bathroom. And the fact that I had decided to clean and purge my entire house of 10 years of accumulation, starting with the smallest room; the bathroom. And, after 3 garbage bags of junk, and at least 12 years of memories, and having to make myself throw out baby barrettes, baby washcloths, journals of weight and exercise from when I was thinner, and suddenly doubting my worth as a housekeeper, mother and ever reaching skinny status, I was a miserable wreak who called Jasin and informed him it would be better for my mental status if we just left the house as is, and moved to a different one with new stuff. Then, I won a treat basket from the Library basket raffle. With lots of things, including chocolate inside it.

     If that wasn't a sign, I don't know what was. The universe could not have been any clearer. Does no one else see the connection of misery/wine/chocolate here? I thought so. So, not one to ignore the Universe, I poured half a glass of the magic wine, and grabbed a 3 Musketeers bar from the treat basket, a trashy novel, and snuggled into my recliner last night.
  
    Before I knew it, I was feeling soooo very good. I was relaxed and feeling on top of the world, completely okay with life in general, and having the urge to look through my phone contacts and see who I could look up and get in touch with. Instead, I decided to announce my wonderful elixir on Facebook, and how amazing I felt. At which several people demanded to know the name and brand of my magic cooking wine. I had to think long and hard, about telling anyone what it was. I could not possibly imagine letting ANYONE, ANYWHERE, EVER touching my wine. It was all mine, and I was not feeling up to sharing it. Ever. Seriously.
    
      A small part of my brain told me I needed to wander to the refrigerator, and type in the name and brand of the wine. And then, after posting this on Facebook, I may have followed it with a threat to people not to go buying all the wine. I have decided to go and buy 2 more bottles first thing tomorrow, when the liquor store opens. It's already in my head. "Drop this kid off at the Birthday party, that kid off to the Cub Scout thing, and then I can stop at the liquor store, grab a few bottles, and stock up, before I pick the other kid up from the sleep over...."

     Cheers everyone! Have a great weekend!!