Oh Thy Wine, How Dear Thou Art on Thine Lips of Mine!

Heart from pouring red wine in goblet isolated on white

I made a resolution to not drink as much wine in 2018.  My tongue was turning purple and it was getting to be a budget breaker.  You see I’m an anal accountant, although I’ve never done any accounting where that body part was involved.  So I quit on December 30.  I’ve found I feel a lot better, my pants aren’t as tight, and I don’t experience as much dry-mouth as before.

My wife went to a quilt show where she represented herself as a vendor, she even won three ribbons, 1st, 2nd and 3rd for quilts she placed in the show – a true Greenlee Trifecta!  She brought back a bottle of wine.  Now yesterday was a perfect day to sit on our lanai here in east Naples, Florida.  There were no rampaging Bears, Chipmunks, Squirrels or Raccoons.  There were no blood-sucking monster-sized mosquitoes, or midges flying up your nose and dive bombing into your wine glass.  It was a perfect day, no false nuclear attack alarms, etc, etc.

So I decided to have one half-glass of her wine. Whoa!  It was like I was drinking when I was 14 years old on cheap Boone’s Farm wine. That one glass had me super relaxed and even a little tipsy.  It relaxed me so much I was ready to go to bed at 7:30 pm, right in the middle of a documentary on Thomas Edison, who never invented anything related to wine drinkers, so I’m not sure if it was boredom, the wine, or a combination of the two.

Now I fully admit to being the type of person that if there is a bottle of wine to be opened it should also be consumed in one setting.  That’s means I get six glasses and my wife gets one.  Hey, I can’t help if she drinks slow and I have a big mouth. There’s a new Twitter trend going against me now – #BackOffWino.

This is the way I’ve always been when ever there is anything that provides me with pleasure.  For example, as a child my parents struggled financially, so candy was rarely in the house.  When there was, my mom created hiding spaces to keep me from eating the entire bag.  So I tried to outsmart her by leaving one piece in the bag where she hid it.  So a bag of 50 Snickers was reduced to just one Snicker.  It was always evident who did this, because of my sugar induced coma and its symptoms, severe stomach aches, etc.  I just thought I was a clever genius at the time.  The funny truth is one time my mother hid a bag that both she and I could not find until she remodeled her kitchen 20-years later. Serves her right, it is the oppression I endured that has led me to my affliction.  I’m writing a new book, “Mommie Dearest, No More Snack Hiding Places – EVER!”    At Halloween I’d pull a wagon so I could haul in about 300 pounds of sugar coated this and that.  This would last me about one week.

I’m also this way with Ice Cream Sandwiches, there is no box big enough to satisfy me.  Beef Jerky and Bacon are also casualties of the domestic bliss in my house.  I have no will power.  It’s the devil’s work I tell you.  In the past, if my wife left for a quilt retreat or a show, well, it’s a hedonistic ho down at my house.  Breakfast – eggs, bacon, bacon and bacon, orange juice and prunes – yes prunes.  Lunch – a sensible sandwich wrap with a layer of bacon.  Dinner – a salad, with bacon bits, and maybe some nuked leftover turkey leg.  This was followed by a small snack on the hour every hour, finished off with a bottle of wine.   Of course, like with my mother, I made certain to hide all evidence, except leaving one out of guilt.

Another of my 2018 goals was to lose weight.  I did some research and it appears there are about 3,500 calories are in a pound of fat.  Next step, find my ideal weight.  The BMI scale shows I’d be best suited between 140 and 183.  Now at 140 that would be close to my high school weight, which means I look like the Super Model “Twiggy”.  At 183 would equal my buff college days where regular weight lifting and running, playing football, basketball, tennis, etc.  I’m 58 now, yoga stretching exercises for flexibility is about the extent of my physical exercise, so that means controlling calories has to be the key.  This means you eat twigs, that’s how she became to be known as “Twiggy”. Twigs have 0.002 calories.  So if I eat the contents of my backyard, I’d be taking in about 300 calories, but I’d have to fight off my Raccoon, who is very territorial.  Even he hides twigs from me.  This means I will lose 60 pounds this week.

But I found the Walrus Weight Watchers BMI that stated 225 was about right for me and that’s exactly what I weight.  Woo Hoo! Perspective is everything.  So binging on a 1/2 glass of wine was my celebration for reaching my weight goal in just two weeks. Take that Jenny Brag and Weight Whackers!

I love wine, but I really needed to curb my enthusiasm for it, which leads me to a little poetry:

Oh wine, oh wine, it’s not just for winter or summertime.

It goes well with bacon sauteed in butter and bacon, which does not ryhme.

For those whose lips will never touch wine,

Pass it over to me it will be gone in no time.

Wine oh my wine, my readers love you too,

That’s why it’s a tag, to pull in a sucker or two.

I wish I could control thee for 2018,

But I picked the wrong year to stop acting like a rebellious teen.

Oh wine, my precious wine, I wish my budget you didn’t shatter,

Oh what the hell, here today and gone tomorrow, what does it matter?

I may not be kissed if you turn my tongue blue,

but I hear wine drinking celibate monks have a great view.

I will end this award winning poem in honor of you,

My wine, oh my wine, it’s time to unscrew.