Wanted a cheap wine tonight but didn't want to drive all the way to the suburban sprawl-hole that is Short Pump. So I stopped at my local Kroger, which has a nice wine selection, and scored this Spanish wine on sale (about a dollar off) for $7.79. Because South American and Spanish wines are still almost a well-kept secret, I always feel like I'm in on something special when I buy those wines, especially as compared in price to the other more popular regions, like Italy, France, and California. Speaking of wines, there's an interesting dialogue happening in the comment thread of RVA Foodie's post about a Sideways-style wine duel at his house recently. He better invite me to the next one.
(yes, that's my tree still up in the bg, don't judge!)
I am a sucker for anything in Spanish, and this wine is very drinkable, a little--not sweet exactly, but notes of sweetness. A little dry, but still pleasant on its own. Good buy for sure. Speaking of my affinity for all things Spanish, one of my students, a supercute, immaculately dressed specimen from Guadalajara, Mexico came in today, and was interested in our GSA. I'm looking forward to lobby day.
I might have played hooky from my second job tonight to go to the grocery store, come home and relax, wash dishes, drink wine, and jam out to my iTunes. So far I've had some great Tom Petty, Wild Horses, The Fray, Michael Jackson, John Mellencamp, and now some Queen, one of my all-time favorite bands. Some photos of Freddie Mercury remind me of my dad when he was young.
Do you ever feel like you were born in the wrong era? I wish I could go back and experience the 4o's, the 60's, 70's disco, so many different times. My mom is at the young end of the Boomers, so she really didn't get to see the 60's, so no cool clothes and stories for me. Instead, I remember bad yellow/orange upholstery and bad design that characterized so much of the 1970's.
I plucked yet another grey hair from my part yesterday. Because my hair is so dark, the silverly strands just shout out for attention, such a contrast to the rest of my mane. I remember telling my mom she'd have to stop plucking eventually or she'd have no hair left. Sigh. We all turn into our mothers eventually? I look so much younger than I am, which often vexes me, because I don't like it assumed that I am young and therefore inexperienced and/or naive, though I guess I should appreciate it, because it allows me to bridge the gap of friendships between my much-younger early-20s friends and those in their late 20's and 30's who are closer in experience to me, at least those without kids.
I read a REALLY interesting article in the Chronicle about modern friendships and social media, and when I have some more time this week, I want to craft a thoughtful response.