Daily Wine and…Rant - Rated M


May 10, 2010

Make Your Own Music

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One of my fondest memories of my childhood was listening to my father as he made his way around his daily tasks about the house …. whistling. He was a very good whistler. Who whistles anymore? I don’t. And if I sat at my desk and whistled while I worked, as the 7 dwarves recommend, I’d be quickly packed up and asked to get the flock out. Just pucker up and BLOW. Do we teach kids to make this simplest of sounds anymore? But I guess we don’t have to. We no longer have the need to make our own music. Just stuff a couple earbuds in those ears and we’re good to go. We listen to digital sounds, many of them totally electronically created— not a real guitar or trumpet or violin or drum among them. Never thought I’d crave the scratches and crackle an old turntable could spin out into the air.

Yesterday I ran into an old friend. She reported that her husband had taken up the lost art of yodeling. Yodel-ay-hee-hoo…Now the last time I heard anything close to yodeling it was the last time I suffered through the Sound of Music. And Jewel–she yodels, but apparently keeps it to herself because no one knows what that sound coming out of her throat is anymore and they ‘d much prefer to pay her to just continue crowing out those saccharine little love tunes for her rodeo husband. And on, and on, and on.

While I’m on the topic of bodily music, what ever happened to Bobby McFerrin who literally turned his body into an instrument thumping and bleating a capella? Talk about body sounds.

My father is not nearly as free with his whistling talents as he once was. He could trill with the best of them. Long live our own music-making ingenuity (Daily wine: Elderun, Elderberry Honey wine, kosher and sulfite free. I’m still on the honey-wine kick):

KickASS whistling:

Crazy yodeling:

complaints,current events,mead,rant

May 6, 2010

Apple Wine

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A good woman can cure all.

No… a bad woman can cure all.

I had to take the long way home from work tonight. Not my choice and only because of commuter traffic. I have a little bit of an anger issue and I’ll admit it…it’s not pretty. So when the cops had blocked off the entrance to Route 9 out of Berlin, that was the end of it….

Somehwere along the way I grew a hankering for some mead. The kid at the wine store didn’t know what that was when I stopped. Fed my frustration even more. For the dude at the wine store:

Mead: honey wine. It’s an ancient brew. It was the drink of the Vikings, those angry pillagers which might be why I suddenly wanted a big belt of some. Yo, you should know what it is for godsakes or go work at the gas station.

So what could possibly give me a tiny bit of relief from my mead craving (if not a good/bad woman)?

Some apple wine with honey brewed by the local apple orchard folk–also serendipitously along my wayward way home tonight. MMMMM. I’ve run bikers off the road, cussed out some good ol boy from Vermont who couldn’t tell green from red — and he was pissed at ME, the gall–visited my dad at the rehab place and now I’ve flopped on my bed with my mega Viking stein of apple/honey wine (not real mead) with my cat and a cool breeze coming through the screens.

Can’t bring myself to watch the news: that effing oil debacle and of course some of those robber barons only care how this will impact their chances for future drilling…Wow. Spend a few billion figuring out a REAL way to shut your fucking oil hole and maybe you can stick an augur back in Mother Earth, man!

a nice bottle of bishops orchards honey peach melba wine

Not as viscous or honey driven as mead, but a great alternative for frustrated Vikings.