You Asked...

Thomas: Is Ron for real?

Me: If you only knew how many times I’ve asked myself that same question. Don’t have the answer me amigo, the only thing I can say is, fuck I hope so.

Webb: How did you and your husband come to be?

Me: I met Call-o much like I met you, over the internet, but let me explain. Just about 19 years ago my sister, (then just a tot) and my brother, (still him, no job, no life and raging against…life I guess) stumbled upon a local chat board called Liberty. A small group of people, no graphics whatsoever, a blinking cursor and orange words on a black-ish brown background. You could chat live with folks, when the damn thing wasn’t down, which was like all the time. I didn’t pay it much mind but my siblings were captivated by the new medium so I was aware of it and would log on once in a while, late nights and those of us that lurk in them, we are the people the internet was created for.

I was very involved with someone at the time, someone that had me so bent around his…um, finger, that I wasn’t looking for anything or anyone, except of course in those wee morning hours when I was alone and he was, wherever he was. You get what I’m saying? That…finger, I wasn’t the only resident. So I would log onto this board and seemed to click with a group of people, way, way smarter than I and I found myself laughing more than I had in years…the exchange rapid fire and heart thumping in a way I had never experienced. Hooked. Not on anyone, but the voices that blipped on my screen and kept me company when everyone else was asleep, gone or ignoring me. Somehow I managed to rise to the top of the geek pile and found myself clicked into the um, don’t know what you would call them…kings of the compu-tards? One of those was Carl.

I hated him at first. Thought he was a total freak. Hated the way he stared at me and spent all his time, (in between being one of the quickest and funniest cats on the board) talking about his drug abuse and dropping out of college to tweak. Not my type, in the least. I was living in that nightmare through my brother, wasn’t looking to make friends with another one of them. We met, as a group several times, each time me whispering to someone, “Please, don’t make me sit next to him” before slipping into a booth at the local Denny’s at 2:00 AM or what have you and having one of them fail me and there I sat, this ex-tweaker sipping his strawberry shake, (another fail…ewe dude.) and munching onion rings while burning a hole in the side of my face with that blasted staring! Then two things happened. I knew he was wicked smart but don’t think I quite had a grasp of just how. Gathered at some sports bar, the group playing video trivia and here was Carl, getting every damn answer correct, and way before anyone else. I was intrigued, still dating another but…he was changing my mind. Then one late night at a group gathering, mass amounts of Southern Comfort, (still haven’t forgiven it) and I found myself next to Carl, tucked into a recliner, (nothing if not classy) and out of the blue, he kissed me. Done. Unwrapped myself from that, finger, and here we are.

Gabe: Tell us about one fantastic wine related moment.

Me: Oh man. Just one? And seeing as you are a new reader I feel like I should pick something a little tame but….gonna have to go with an old favorite.

In the midst of a tumultuous time in my life. Everything beyond confusing, loss and sadness weighing on me, pressing me and my dizzy frame against any glass that would have me. Prey to a pair of big brown eyes and long dark lashes…an industrious man wise enough to see the wobbling me that no one else could, coiling up and ready to strike. Not maniacal, eager and ready to swallow my sorrow, drown it in a big pool of accumulated want. My desperation and aching to forget, if only for a moment wafting off my skin, the aroma thick and oily in the air…powerful enough to rid a room full of dark wood, bunched swaths of blood red and vibrant yellow draped fabrics. There was nothing there, just he and I, playful taunts being lobbed but the reality of that one moment filling my lungs and flipping my, “Just do it” switch.

Dripping candle wax, the sting of lit matches burning my nose, my nervous but so willing hands flicking warm bath water droplets from the base of my neck as I wrapped myself in a robe and walked into that room…ready to forget and hopefully someday, be forgotten. Another kiss that would catapult me into love, again, if only for a moment, driving my fingers to pull at the thick terrycloth ties that kept him from me. Hands on my hips, a long stroke of a thumb from my stiffened jaw to my nerve induced shaking tummy. My body bare and there in the wide open, those dark eyes taking me in, drinking me in, my legs feeling as if they might just give until….I saw his gaze. So captivated, lost in his own domination but as I stood there I began to see…it was me, my bare flesh and naked soul that was driving him and making his mouth water. In one of the weakest hours of my life I found me, my power and now it was me devouring his longing. Hand plunged into an ice bucket, nails peeling foil, breathing becoming audible as I pulled at the icy cage, wrapped my fingers around the cork and freed us both with a pop. Icy cold Jean Milan Blanc de Blanc poured from a flute onto my collarbone, the sweetest river of froth running down my bare chest, an open mouth and tear filled pair of dark eyes tasting us both.

Sorry Gabe…

ADoC: Any one place, holding a glass of wine. Where and why?

Me: Dammit woman! There are like four thousand answers to that question depending on when you ask. Okay, gonna go with right this very second…and trying to ignore dark eyes, thick bunches of yellow and red fabrics, Jean Milan. I would say Beaune on Saturday, (market day) the smell of roasted chickens and greens filling my nose and making me light headed. The cobblestone streets and high-heeled, far more glamorous than I ladies that traverse them. I want a glass of mouth-filling Corton-Charlemage from Domaine de Montille to keep me company as I watch the families and shopkeepers shuffle by, gathering goods to share with their families. A long stretch of my short legs at some café, my head grabbing at every last nuance, my heart knowing this is as good as it gets.

Sara: Favorite Housewives franchise and favorite wife?

Me: Guilty pleasure! Tie my ass up, I love this shit. Hands-down, Jersey. Without question or hesitation. Those chicks are nuts and not embarrassed to be so. Something about that is infinitely endearing to me. So my favorite wife, Caroline Manzo. Badass, sick of drama and the one soul I would crave if I were in that nightmare of a show/life. She also reminds me of my mother in-law, so I understand her. Plus those tots?! Damn…thank you mother nature. 

Anonymous: Do you ever think that some of us are sick of hearing about you and your life? That we come to a wine blog to read about wine?

Me: Think? Moi? Nope. Sorry, you’ve come to the wrong place….might I suggest checking into one of those life things that people are always talking about? If you are here, reading my silly bullshit looking for scores or tasting notes…why are you still here? I felt kinda dumb when I read your question but the more I thought about it, who is jerkwad here, you or me? Hate to break it to you kid, think it’s you. But hey, the Wine Blog Awards are coming up and I’m sure there are troves of wickedly compelling, wine based, blogs for you to drool over. Aren’t you excited?! I know I am….

Winey the Elder: Okay: you are driving across America and you can have three people join you for the journey. Strictly a platonic, engaging drive. Who's in and why?

Return trip home, you are in an RV and now you can have three people to eat/drink with and, well the rig has a bed, so you can recreate at will. Who's in and why?

Me: This one has been on my mind since you posed it and for that I send you and hug and a “damn you!”. Like ADoC’s I’m going to have run with this one in the moment. Too many options, historical figures and whatnot. Need to be real, be me and think of what I would actually want. So first leg, that platonic and engaging trip, I would say Michael Jackson (might be because I have Off the Wall blaring on my ipod right now) Dorothy Parker, (personal hero so why not?) and my mother. Some weird part of me would love to watch her be both tweaked and captivated by them. She never really liked either all that much so that trip would be like revenge and  seeing as loves me some arguments it’s a win.

Trip home. Oh dude, this was way harder. Considering the trip I had just come from, I think I would have to stretch my inner demons. Seeing as nothing inspires and drives those skin stretching monsters like him I have to have Dave Matthews. Can’t think of anyone that can make me crave absolute debauchery like those growling but articulate and stomach churning words of his…I am picturing an acoustic strumming of sort. Damn, maybe answering after a few gin and tonics was not the best idea. …

So anyway. A bed, an RV, Dave Matthews and, gotta go with my Amy. The closest friend I’ve ever had and yet she doesn’t get the whole Dave thing, this trip might cure her of that. Might also make us some half-baked, sloppy kissing, glasses licking, (Amy, you remember that?!) bunch of heathens but who cares? It’s my RV and if you don’t like it, tough shit. So here’s the rub…gonna leave one spot open…who’s in?

Wayne: What's the one job/profession that could steal you away from the wine biz forever?

Me: Simple, novelist…cuzz that’s easy right?

Anonymous: What is your inner totem animal?

Me: This here was a source of contention here at my pad. I quite simply said “Cat” which was met with all kinds of strife and arguments. Turns out, according to the gentlemen that are in my life like 24/7…I am either a panther, (husband) or and otter, (son). So your guess is as good as mine.   

Anonymous: Best wine you have ever tasted?

Me: You’re new, so I forgive you.

Carolyn: Okay, my question. Preface: Two of my four children were born after my 40th birthday, one out of wedlock. I adore them all and wouldn't change anything. My question: What about another baby? (Please don't bwahaha, I'm serious.)

Me: I would never make fun of such a serious question. My son is the single most significant thing in my life and there are times when I wonder if I would be here if it weren’t for him, his timing and the role he has played in making me a much stronger woman. I am forever awed by and grateful to him but maybe like one of yours, he was not planned or expected. Even as a little girl I wasn’t built with a mommy suit, therefore it was nothing I ever thought about or craved. Even now, I would absolutely take that ride with Jeremy all over again but other than that, not something I want. In fact, part of the reason Carl and I waited 11 years to get married was he thought he might want another child, I knew I didn’t. I refused to take that dream from him but was also unyielding in the fact that I knew I wasn’t willing to be the one to give it to him. So no dear lady, no more kids for me. I have my wees next door to fill any tiny people need, my sister and her husband are working on making me an aunt, (come on swimmers) and I can wait until instead of mommy I hear, grandma. Maybe it’s because I started so young, I mean I was more a mother to my sister at times than our mother was, so I had a baby on my hip from the time I was 11 years old….shit, maybe I’m just selfish but I am kinda feeling that me time. 

Anonymous: Do you ever regret being so open and exposing so much about your personal life? I feel like I have known you forever and we’ve never met and I can’t believe I’m alone in that. Don’t you ever wish you had a thicker barrier between you and us?

Me: Never and for the reason you just stated.  

Thank you all for not only playing but for being curious. That was so much fun for me and made my Sunshine Award all the more….rewarding. You folks, you move and inspire me.   Thank you.