You may or may not be aware that Mr. Beers turned fifty just this past October. Oh yes. There was a party where many people celebrated. Many of them brought gifts to Mr. Beers. A lot of those gifts were bottles of wine. All kinds of wine. Thoughtful guests brought wines with beautiful labels. Some brought wines with funny labels. Cabs, savs, merlots, pinots - they were all represented. Mr. Beers ended up with enough wine to last well into the next year.
The house in which we reside was built in the 1920s. It’s a wonderful old place with what I believe I’ve heard certain realtors refer to as "great bones." It has thick plaster walls and lots of charm. Living in a house built in the 1920s is an adventure in and of itself. It also has antique plumbing and wiring. I like to refer to the water pressure as "European." The lighting in most rooms is slightly dim.
The dim lighting when paired with the somewhat failing eyesight of middle age can seem at times an inconvenience. Some days I’m not sure what color my socks are until I walk outside on my way to work and see them in the natural light. But there’s an up side. It’s also kind of a blessing, when one looks in the mirror and doesn’t see every line in one’s face, or the stray hair growing out one’s ear. With more perfect vision or better light, I might be afraid to leave the house at all.
This past Saturday evening Mr. Beers and Mr. Bobo were invited to make three stops on the Holiday Party Trail. Three great Christmas parties in one night - well, actually, two Christmas and one birthday - details, details. Anyway, in an effort not to show up to anyone’s home empty handed, we grabbed three birthday celebration bottles of wine and tagged them with "Happy Holidays" and headed out into the night.
It was at the first stop - Party Number One - that I became aware of another problem with the lighting in our 1920s home. At least I’m going to blame it on the poor lighting. It was just about the moment that I walked into our hosts’ home with one of those "Happy Holidays" bottles. I placed our merlot with the rest of the wines that other guests had brought. That was when I realized that I had presented them with a half-full bottle of a lovely red wine. I mentioned the gaffe to Mr. Beers in a most discreet aside, and decided to remain mum. "Most likely, they’ll assume someone at the party opened the bottle and had a glass," I reasoned.
So the next time I head out with a bottle of wine I’ll double check and make sure it hasn’t been opened. But in the meantime, it’ll be our little secret.
The dim lighting when paired with the somewhat failing eyesight of middle age can seem at times an inconvenience. Some days I’m not sure what color my socks are until I walk outside on my way to work and see them in the natural light. But there’s an up side. It’s also kind of a blessing, when one looks in the mirror and doesn’t see every line in one’s face, or the stray hair growing out one’s ear. With more perfect vision or better light, I might be afraid to leave the house at all.
This past Saturday evening Mr. Beers and Mr. Bobo were invited to make three stops on the Holiday Party Trail. Three great Christmas parties in one night - well, actually, two Christmas and one birthday - details, details. Anyway, in an effort not to show up to anyone’s home empty handed, we grabbed three birthday celebration bottles of wine and tagged them with "Happy Holidays" and headed out into the night.
It was at the first stop - Party Number One - that I became aware of another problem with the lighting in our 1920s home. At least I’m going to blame it on the poor lighting. It was just about the moment that I walked into our hosts’ home with one of those "Happy Holidays" bottles. I placed our merlot with the rest of the wines that other guests had brought. That was when I realized that I had presented them with a half-full bottle of a lovely red wine. I mentioned the gaffe to Mr. Beers in a most discreet aside, and decided to remain mum. "Most likely, they’ll assume someone at the party opened the bottle and had a glass," I reasoned.
So the next time I head out with a bottle of wine I’ll double check and make sure it hasn’t been opened. But in the meantime, it’ll be our little secret.
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