January 18, 2007 by Amy

Red Red Wiiiiiine…

I didn’t post today, as I was too busy at work.

But now. Now I am at home. In my home. Where there is wine, unfortunately. A whole bottle of Yellow Tail Chardonnay, which has made its way through our kitchen, into my wine glass, and then into my mouth. It’s not red wine, as indicated in the title, but wine nonetheless. I am entirely too tired to search for any sort of appropriate title that would aptly reflect my indulgence in Chardonnay this evening.

Yes, yes. I am posting, once again, under the influence of alchohol.

And yet, yet my friends, I am still able to self-edit. Somewhat. I at least still know the difference between its and it’s. It’s is a contraction for “it is.” Learn that people. It’s pretty simple. Also, the only other way you would use an apostrophe and then an “s” is when it’s possessive. As in, “I own this.” Like, “It’s my house that has power now.” See that? Yeah, I wrote, “It’s my house that has power now” because it really is my house that has power now.

Dear God. Take away the bottle of wine. Right now. Oops, too late. I drank it all!

So. We watched American Idol tonight. I must admit that we only watch this show for the first episodes, with the freaks, and the last show, when it’s phenomenal, to use M’s words. I adore Simon Cowell. Love him. M said, “He says the things we all think, but don’t have the balls to say.” Which is sort of how my FIL described me a couple weeks ago, only my FIL won’t say anyone has the balls, or doesn’t have the balls, to say anything. Because my FIL is very much a gentleman and wouldn’t use those words. I myself try to make it a little less rough in that I usually refer to them as cajones, like using a foreign word will make it a little less crude.

You know, touch typing becomes a lot more difficult when you have your fingers on the wrong keys. Just a little tip from me to you.

Secret Message to Saara: You can call me anytime you want to talk, about anything, even the deep stuff you don’t think anyone else would understand. I hope you know that.

Secret Message to Jen-Nay: your e-mail about the A/C vents cracked me, and M, up. We’re pretty sure that at our last house, our cats left enough milk rings (the rings that come off gallon-milk containers when you first crack them open) in our A/C vents to re-build Wichita entirely in plastic. Just so you know, our “new” A/C vents are about a foot from our 8′ ceilings. However, our return air vents (yes, our house is 50 years old) are very low, and I’m sure will be filled with toys by the time Zozo is 12.

Not so secret message to Bridal Beano: Thank you very much for our conversation this evening, where you pretended not to notice that I had indulged in almost an entire bottle of wine this evening. Use sunblock! (I can get that for you. I work in a day spa, you know. We have good shit there.)

Not so secret message to Groomtay Shawntay: Good luck, buddy!

Okay, M is telling me he is tired now, so I probably should wind this up. I could go on and on and on (wine does that to me, you know), but I will sign off now. And so continues my almost-every-day record of posting to my blog.

Dedication, people. I am nothing if not dedicated.