Results tagged "Wine"

This is my favorite pre-ceremony picture…

But there are many more pics to come…

The wedding was amazing… And with the Bride and Groom now off, safely away to an island paradise, the rest of us — Or, at least I, now have to try to leave the bubble of awesomeness behind and get back to real life. It isn’t easy… an entire two days packed full of family and life long friends that I never get to see… Similar to my own wedding where it was hard to remember all of the conversations that took place along with all of the ones that I never had a chance to have… Regardless, it was priceless… I’m giving myself a week to detox, and I didn’t even drink but aside from a sip-a-loo of pinot noir (which suspiciously tasted  like the finest wine on earth). I’m sure that as the haze fades away, and the ability to feel my feet returns, there will be a lot more to share…

I have changed my email address.

I know, I know – whatever… no big deal, WHO CARES. People change email addresses everyday — similar to undergarments, dollar bills, REAL ESTATE and typewriter ribbon.

But here’s the thing. This actually is a big deal… because, unless you haven’t been paying attention, I tend to fear change.. I hide from it actually. Like right now… although I’ve hit my head on the immaculately clean (mind you) underbelly of this table a few times too many so I’m thinking of moving to a nice cupboard in the kitchen… although I fear the boy will frown upon my usurpage of his stockpile of veggie fries. I’m also out of wine. Because… I don’t really have a choice this time around due to a dollar amount involved with the decision, and honestly… I am quite sick and tired of the old one.

The old email address has a serious history that needs to be laid to rest. It has survived verbiage beyond comprehension — both on the outgoing and incoming.. and has bared witness to the point of standing trial on numerous occasions. It has fought, died, resurrected, been kidnapped, pillaged, surrendered, endured, succeeded and eventually won out on top of unspeakable battles. Times weren’t all tough though… the messenger also was responsible for delivering priceless (not really) works of art, design and prose that led to nothing less than success… not to mention massive amounts of ego feed–as I lick my fingers… I know, WHY SO GROSS?! In short, rms@bwdstudio.com has been my whipping post for just about six looooongfeelingmorelikealifetime years. Calling them tumultuous would be putting it mildly.

So, while I’m making this massive attempt to move on with my life after a half decade of dealing with the absolute sordidy-ist of sordidists… the wretcheds, the dirties… and yes, even the boondoggles, I have decided to let my electronic self go on to pastures unknown, and I wish it well. In the meantime… you can find me in the cabinet with the iced tea maker and salad spinner… sculpting my nails and waiting for the heatwave to go to my head while I attempt to tell the world to update their files: ry@rysalcreative.com.   
 

Seriously.
I need big ones.

(less than 5 miles from my house)

Because last night I went to my very first TOWN meeting, and all I can say is that I wish I had some balls. Seriously. And I have to capitalize TOWN in this instance because after listening to the rants of baffonery, my eyelids are permanently peeled back and my jaw is unattractively dragging on the floor. Of course, it didn’t help that I drowned myself in the biggest wine glass I could find after the TOWN meeting — but we are now just 5 hours shy of 24 hours ago and the overwhelming feeling of ickiness has yet to subside. So.. just what was I thinking? I mean. WHO DO I THINK I AM? Well, to start with, I am a resident of the TOWN of Southampton as well as a former small business owner. I am also a human being that likes to do silly things like… eat food, feed my family, and — on occasion, wear clothes. Unfortunately, living in Southampton TOWN also means that all of the silly little things that we like to do usually require leaving the TOWN to be accomplished. Because we are normal. We are average. We work really hard for the money and things that we have and therefore don’t have the luxury of buying all of our clothes at Saks or overpriced boutiques. Instead, we invite really wealthy people to come here to do that. In the TOWN that we live in. The TOWN that is our homebase… while we leave the TOWN to go to places like most of the country already has downtown. Places like price clubs… Old Navy… STOP-N-SHOP. And so, when I was told about a lovely new development plan for the location pictured above… One that will house a new grocery store and several retail chains… I took the giant bubble maker from the child and started running wildly around the yard chanting… SOMEBODY CARES, SOMEBODY CARES… only to end up sprawled on the grass staring DIRECTLY at the sun. 

But then, as the dictionary defines typical, a complete and total anti committee was formed resulting in last night’s meeting. I wanted to go and tell them all about how expensive it is to live here… as if they don’t already know… I wanted to stand up for the developer and say HEY THIS IS GOOD. I wanted to say, this is MY DEVELOPMENT! GO AWAY. There were some valid concerns, traffic and residential issues… but when the character attacks started my ears began to ring… And then I was all done. Frozen solid into a impenetrable block of ice… which, interestingly enough, was defying all laws of science considering the amount of sweat I was starting to produce. This was being televised. And hey… these people were being REALLY MEAN. Was I really going to do this? Was I really going to stand up in front of these 100+ REALLY ANGRY ANTIS and say… “Like, yeah, I Tooootally need to shop”… I imagined myself strutting.. how was I going to walk without legs? And then I heard myself talking… leaning into the microphone, “balls” was all that came out. I started to become one with the folding chair… I sunk down low. Then someone passed me the petition and I voted YES — signing my name… as it was ripped from my hands by an ANTI I thought… why do they need my name… and then they passed it on among each other… all noting who had voted yes… They knew. THEY KNEW IT WAS ME. And when the ring leader stepped to the podium to ask if anyone had anything POSITIVE to say, I fell hands and knees to the floor and crawled out of the room. Completely silent and without any sign of balls.

But this isn’t the end. I mean not really. This was the first of several TOWN meetings that I plan to attend in the hopes that my voice will eventually leave my brain and land somewhere meaningful. Let’s just hope that I can find the skill of public speaking while being right about everything all the time so that everyone does exactly what I tell them to. Right? Because I need this AND SO DO YOU. And all those REALLY MEAN ANTIS who were glaring at me in an attempt to burn a hole somewhere to pour the brainwash in… just give me a few days to  grow a pair so big that you’ll NEVER see me coming.    

It’s official, my sister is getting married.

And although I’m not so sure how she’ll feel about this little online announcement to the UNIVERSE, I’m going to be THAT PERSON, and lay it all out there. Because this is exciting and I NEED TO TELL EVERYONE. I mean why keep it a secret–Why keep BOUNCING OFF THE WALLS when I have the INTERNET at my finger tips?

So… when she asked me to head out to our parents house for some necessary planning, I threw the kid in the car and did what I was told. But then our Mom surprised us by pulling out Nana’s wedding dress — which not only fit my sister — who is gorgeous, by the way (just in case you needed to know), but also sent us to the world of 1939 to when she was married… And just what are we going to DO ABOUT IT? Well we are going to drink wine, lust over the antique fabrics and decide to turn the headpiece into a necklace OF COURSE. I mean REALLY. And what would make Nana happier? The queen of the accessory…. the reason beads were invented…the spark that ignited it all.

Did I mention that I was excited?

Guest Bird #11 – Melissa

Melissa Siig is a freelance writer and mother of 2.5 kids living the dream in a small mountain town in California. She blogs about life’s crazy adventures at MountainMommaMusings.com.

It was the drink’s name that got us into trouble. “Dew Drop.” Vodka, splash of sparkling wine, fresh grape juice, and something called St. Germain. The latter ingredient was what really got our attention. What was it?  We were intrigued. While our table pondered the possibilities, the restaurant owner overheard us and came running over, very excited. He was dressed like a movie star, with a purple velvet sports jacket, a white shirt with not many buttons buttoned, and a few silver chains. I couldn’t place his accent – Australian, South African?

“St. Germain? You really must try it. Made from ElderFlower. It’s fabulous,” he said excitedly, adding that the drink was imported from France but created by an American right here in Colorado. All the bar shelves in Aspen restaurants were stocked with it. I guess it was the drink of the moment.

He offered us a taste. Of course, we couldn’t refuse anything free in this overly-priced town.

The bar manager brought over a small glass with a clear liquor in it. It smelled like spring-time, like apples and melon. Delicious. Yes, of course, we would have a round. Mine arrived in a martini glass, with two green grapes floating on the bottom where olives normally rest. But Siig’s was different. His came in a big tumbler and was more bubbly. Our new BFF Lauren the bar-manager came over and looked at the drinks, her pierced tongue clucking unapprovingly. Turns out none of them was actually the real Dew Drop. They were “alternatives.” Apparently, the bartender had already had one too many drinks of his own, even forgetting a key ingredient in my cousin’s mojito, which tasted like bland soda water mixed with mint.

But we were quite enjoying our “mistakes.” It had the desired effects. Soon, our table was rolling with laughter. I swear I saw a 70-year old proper woman at the table next to us sucking on the fingers of the man next to her; my cousin Jordan stole my mom’s cell phone and started texting her boyfriend. “What are you wearing?” he wrote covertly. The answer came back: “White shirt and jeans. What are you wearing?” When he responded: “leopard-print thong” the gig was up. I guess that particular item is not in my mom’s panties’ drawer.

Then we started doing the ChaCha. No, not the dance. It’s a number you text to find the answer to any question. We started writing: “Who is Melissa Siig?” Answer: “Sorry, no one of importance. We have no answer for you.”

Ouch. And here I thought I was a world famous blogger. Nothing like technology to put you in your place.

As we left the Wild Fig giggling, our heads swimming with the sweet scent of white grapes and ElderFlower, the acid jazz and electronic music of the French band St. Germain played above our heads on the loud speakers.  I guess we hadn’t so much gotten into trouble (unless you count my middle-of-the-night headache) as stumbled into synchronicity.

I have been inspired. And by saying that – I don’t mean that I was enlightened or that some random hot guy pushed me over the edge… What I am saying is that this Holiday thing has me smitten. I am actually really loving it… and I promise that this will be the last time that I write about it…

Until next year, of course. But you see, the thing about it is that I don’t think that I have ever looked at this time of year the way I am currently… I don’t think that I have ever attempted to analyze myself and how I behave… or not behave when faced with this time of year. It is stressful… The shopping, which I have not started, and the decorating, which was completed in record time while my 2 year old took all the ornaments off the tree as I put them on. The planning of seeing each and every deserving relative despite the 4 to 5 hour car rides to actually do so… while still having a nice quiet Christmas morning all to ourselves at home. Not to mention the possibility of guests, food, booze and the constant battle with money. Damn you GIANT ECONOMIC DOWNFALL. Not to mention CHURCH and the reality of what it all means paired with the guilt of all things Catholic. Did I say I was loving this?

Survival combined with rage and yoga.

My tactic? Irreverence…

Not in the proper defining DISRESPECT… not in the disregard of authority that I must participate and ENJOY the holidays… just.. taking it all as it comes. Doing it proper if it happens and wrong if it must. A new found calm that one should be relaxed when faced with multitasking on limited and ever decreasing brain cells. But I am not alone… so I asked via internet of great things… what about you this time of year? How do YOU handle Holiday stress? Rage or yoga?

Jojo said: Chocolate, red wine, avoidance, screaming, and getting outside as much as possible.

aslapintheface said: I play “chicken” with the people in the Wal-Mart parking lot. Just kidding. The little security guy told me to stop. Actually – I am a huge fan of the warm bubble bath with some good magazines or a book.

mstinak said: Karate chops.

jeristhird said: I go to bed early.

Mona said: Sierra Nevada Pale Ale. If it’s particularly bad, margaritas. No red wine, though, because it makes me hot and angry…even if I’m not already angry.

ChattyAli said: Rage, definitely rage. Also depression.

cipsi said: Rage AND Yoga. At the same time.

puasamanda said: Oh, rage, rage, rage. I love a good rage. It makes me feel all warm and
fuzzy inside. I do yoga, too…but I won’t give up my rage, dammit!

momdot said: Rage. Is there anything better?

iheardsheknits said: I second the red wine. I don’t have the energy for rage or the motivation for yoga

brilliantsulk said: I deal with stress by redesigning my blog. Then I get stressed and drink vodka, fall asleep, wake up and start all over again…

suelagunatic said: I handle Holiday Stress with a shotgun. (wish)

quirkyjessi said: Neither and both? lol It can get stressful and things can get really hectic, but I usually just push through.

So – there it is. A big holiday season filled with tons… and I mean TONS of alcohol, chocolate, bubble baths, going outside, sleeping, karate, creative forces, pushing and shotguns–Just good ol’ irreverent rage and yoga at the same time. I think we might just make it through…

In the North East, autumn is truly the commander of all seasons. A complete and total unpredictable monster of a season that holds beauty and gale force winds in it’s grip–only to release when one least expects. Complete and total wash-outs turned to reds, yellows, oranges against the bluest possible sky. And temperatures that require layers–Ts covered by fun big sweaters and scarves acting as jackets. And then there are the boots. A designer’s delight. Comfort food to singe the slight chill in the air and sleepy from Budhi’s warm rice wine… A reprieve before the cold.

A lovely day, thanks to the Southampton Historical Museum… I agree with you Hayden, a little wine sipping would have been great… Hint hint vineyards of the Long Island New York North & South forks… hint hint indeed.

Continue Reading Southampton Harvest Festival…