“I don’t need no concert in the city, got a stereo
and The Best of Patsy Cline.
Aint got no caviar, no Dom Perignon but as far as I
can see I got everything I want.
I got all I
need and it’s alright by me.
I got shoes under my feet and forever in her eyes
staring back at me. It’s alright by me”
A simple but soothing voice, warm and soulful
spilling into my ears, filling my head and causing me and my stress bearing
shoulders to sway. My neck loosening and all the tiny bones that run down my back
unclenching as the banjo, fiddle and honey soaked voice coaxed the exhale I’ve
been chasing for months from my chest. I felt the arches of my feet raise as my
toes did as they want to do. Tugging across the carpet, up, down, back on the
heels as my teeth dug deep into the fleshy bit of my bottom lip and my floppy
hair spilled across my forehead covering one eye, my head bobbing to the
playful, joyful, thankful bit of music that pumped through my entire being. Pulled
at my core and made me actually smile…like a real, genuine, sincere smile. That
ugly thing has been on hiatus as of late. Sure I can fake it like The Best of
Cinemax chicks but to catch myself in an increasingly rare moment of sheer joy?
Well I would have been pink-cheeked had I not needed it so fucking badly.
Wasn’t the music really, although I have found
former Hootie and the Blowfish star Darius Rucker’s solo, more country stuff
wicked enjoyable, and I do still find him a whole lotta dreamy, it was the
simplicity of the words, the story and meaning behind them that had me bent, swerving,
feeling the tender and plushy bits of old carpet scraping against my flesh as
my feet shuffled beneath my chair. The message, “I don’t need no five star
reservations, got spaghetti and a cheap bottle of wine….as far as I can see I
got everything I want. I got a roof over my head, the woman I love laying in my
bed. It’s alright by me.” Resonating and pinging like one of those silver
pinball balls through me, bouncing around and slamming against the bars gaining
points and momentum.
Yup, been sucked into some wretched pre-holiday
uckiness that has sunk its teeth into my neck and has drained everything out of
me. My laughter. My snarl. My bite. My inquisitive nature. My desire. My
indignation. My cravings. My drive. All of it buried under a pile of “How come?”
that probably hasn’t any answers. It just is. People come, leave, chose you and
chose to leave you. Move on to better themselves, dislike you for no and a hundred
reasons, the trying to figure it out and fix it, Your issue not theirs. With the
playful pluck of banjo strings and Darius Rucker filling me from the inside out
I started thinking about the things that matter. The ones that are “Alright by
me”
Kicking
my shoes off after a long shift. Alright with me because it feels nearly as
good as wet lips along my ribs.
The
sting of ice on my teeth when I sip a much needed, icy martini. Alright with me
because I fucking earned it.
When
the sleep timer on the television in the bedroom kicks off. That metallic pitch
right before the whole room goes dark and the silence. Feeling like I can hear
the tips of my eyelashes brush against my cheek as I lie in the dark quiet and
remember…Alright with me because I need that time to, well remember.
Seeing
my mother’s face, in my face. Alright with me because I’m beginning to look
more like her, a legacy I’m proud to have changed a bit and when I see her
looking back at me through the mirror in the mornings, I miss her less and hope
that if there is a way, she’s proud of me.
Sobbing
while watching a sappy chick flick love story. Alright with me because I know
how they feel…
The
sting of bacon grease when it spatters on my skin. Alright with me because it means
I’m cooking and creating nourishment that will likely, hopefully, bring some
people I love joy…worth it.
Detecting
a corked wine. Alright with me because I am still the #1 corked wine sniffer
outter at The Wine Country. Got a little skill there me…
Crying
because I failed. Alright by me because it means I tried.
The
way I rant, stomp about and create little flaming disasters. Alright by me
because as much heartbreak as I’ve swallowed and given, these veins of mine are
still vibrant and pumping.
The
way I can sometimes smell the night before leaking out of me. Alright by me
because I am fine with being less than fucking perfect.
That
I am often pinned against a wall with someone “misunderstanding” me. Alright
with me because if I’m throwing that off, well I can’t be mad, I feel sort of
girlishly pleased. But um, back the fuck up.
That
the last vintage of Pierre Guillemot Savigny Aux Serpentieres filled my mouth a
little more than this one. Alright by me because it means I’ve had several
vintages of that glorious wine spill across my palate leaving a stain that I
can’t forget.
“I
didn’t think that wine was drinking. I think I want more fruit or more aged
Burgundy than what you have here” sort of Alright by me because it makes me
strive harder, work harder, look deeper.
The
rash I have gotten from wearing sweats that are too big while I am working out.
Alright by me because those irritated little bits of skin remind me that I am
making myself uncomfortable in an effort to make myself more comfortable.
Being
told that I am closed minded because I don’t tout or promote certain wines.
Alright by me because I am now looking for the best prices on airfare to France
in April because I have been asked to attend the Les Artisans du Champagne at
Les Crayeres as well as having the importer invite me to stay on through
Burgundy and the Loire. Big, (as in fat) fish in a smallish pond, never in a
million years would have thought…
I
get annoyed with my staff at times. Alright by me because it means that I
expect more, because I know they have it in them, and we wear the badge of
being…better.
I’m
like a savant when I make love. I spend hours letting my fingers trace and file
away each and every inch of the very few men I have ever succumb to in that
way. Alright by me because it means I was in love enough to spend hours, days if
you would have let me, with my fingers, nose, eyes and mouth gathering and categorizing
your each millimeter. Loving like that is alright by me…
I
don’t particularly like Cabernet Sauvignon. Alright by me as there are so many
other varieties that need me, my nose, my lips and my particular brand of RAWR
more.
I
was once married under the moon to a man that spent years trying to run away
from me. Alright by me because I still love him and all I need to do to visit
with him is slip outside. The trickle of water over stones, the in and out of
my own breath, the big swollen moon hanging above the both of us, the “My Love,
I miss you so” always just there beneath the moon and waiting…just as I will
forever be
I
like to fancy myself some sort of a writer and at times, I am terrified to
speak. Alright by me as it assures me that I am still as humble and befuddled
as ever. I still giggle when I hear someone call me a specialist and seeing the
names of the people I do in my email box….even now, takes my breath away….
At the end of the day, no matter how long and full
of bullshit…I have this one voice, these wide open eyes, a heart that while
bruised is still vulnerable to true love. A palate that is respected and
encouraged, willing and wanting to learn more. I wear an older lady’s face
while still having a young woman’s laugh. I protect those I love more than I
would ever myself. I am sad but full of hope. I don’t want to talk but I want
you to hear and feel me. I’m forever afraid and waiting for the other shoe but….I
got this stereo and The Best of Patsy Cline. Spaghetti and a cheap bottle of
wine…
Alright by me.
7 comments:
...and don't forget to go out walkin' after midnight...that's alright by me.
Two points:
1. I have a cold--nose stopped up, head blown up--but last night at dinner, I picked up a glass of wine that I was not going to drink just to see if I could smell anythig. Said to my wife--it's cork sick. She sniffed, tasted and said that I was right on.
2. I don't hate it, but if I never consumed another Cabernet Sauvignon I would not miss it.
We ought to start a club.
Thomas,
We can call ii the HeShe Man Cabernet Haters Club, and seeing as Ron got Charlie in, le divorce, we should be able to get away with it. Funny to me, you and I are so freaking much alike...even with the cork detection thing.
I do marvel at our similarities. One day, we should categorize our differences, just to be sure that we weren't separated at birth--by 25 years of course.
Right?! I was a late bloomer so you never know...
My Gorgeous Samantha,
They always say it's the little things in life that make us happy. So if you're interested, I have a little thing you can borrow.
Cabernet Haters are just so "In" these days, I'm amazed you and Thomas have joined that club. I'm busy hating Gruner, orange wines, Lodi Zin and Pinot Gris. Lot of clubs to be in--the dues are killing me.
I'm surprisingly ill-equipped to smell TCA, but I can almost always taste it. VA, on the other hand, I can smell blindfolded.
I love You!
Hey Ron, can't you read?
2. I don't hate it, but if I never consumed another Cabernet Sauvignon I would not miss it.
I don't hate CS, I just don't find most of the wines produced from it to be interesting, certainly not as racy as I like wine to be. I rarely eat the kind of foods that CS does well beside, and I am mainly about wine with food. If I need to dwell on something, I always have my belly button.
Ron My Craveable Love,
We didn't just join some group, you have to know better than that. Thomas and I, we are old souls which is why we spurn orange wines just as much as junkie Cabernet Sauvignon. Hating on Gruner is far trendier than hating on Cabernet Sauvignon so you my sexy groom, you are the hipster here.
TCA is like smelling salt to me....blows my head, nose and palate to shit. Thankfully I am easily distracted by little things so....what was that offer again?
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