Aged Adjectives

I have learned something new about myself. I love exotic cheeses and do not like fine wine. I went to this odd wine tasting event at the local art museum tonight. There were wineries from the finest of Italy and California and Oregon. We went from table to table pretending to describe each wine with a debonair vocabulary of finely aged adjectives.
A pinot noir that was berry-light, soft and velvety. A rose with a spirited sparkle to freshen the pallet. I played a game – tried to get each winery host or hostess to describe the nuances of this wine versus that wine. The funniest was describing the difference between two merlots. One had a gilded lift to it where the other was earthy and lusty. They all actually tasted – well - inadequate and overbearing to me. (That’s an adjective joke in case you didn’t catch it.) Give me a good ole Arbor Mist…..sort of a Hawaiian Punch with a kick to it. I know – I know – it is full of corn starch and food coloring….but it provides the same light-headed buzz for a lot less.
The cost of these bottles – shew….

I did learn that a reserve wine means it has been aged in the barrel and the bottle longer.

The Long Road Back

I looked at my last blog and realize it has been a long time since Christmas...even longer since Thankisgiving. Every day since Thanksgiving has been spent visiting, caring for, planning around, reporting on my father and his emergencies.


He went through quadruple bypass and valve replacement 3 weeks after he had his carotid artery repaired. He was in a coma for 7 days. It took another 4-6 to come fully out of it. He endured another surgery to put in a stomach peg so he can be fed through a tube. His 85 year old frame looks frail and very old. Even in all his pain see how he comforts his wife! My mother - she is strong too. Whatever it takes she does it.

He is in rehab - and they call him the little miracle man. He has gone from this photo to sitting up on his own, laughing, working hard to talk again (the incubation tube destroyed his vocal chords...they must heal.) and shuffling from here to there with a walker. Next week he comes home - to my house.

It's hard to have faith that at 85, you can come back. But some do. If anyone can - the little miracle man can. My kids and their families have been a great loving circle of support. They have visited, picked up stuff in their trucks, helped move furniture, helped decorate for Christmas, take down Christmas - whatever Grandma and Grandpa need.

The long road back is worth it - if you belong to us....and it is really not that far when there is always some one with you, carrying you, encouraging you, or stopping for a breath with you.

So come on home little miracle man. we will take the long road back together!