Where'd All the Bad Bottles Go?

I discovered a post positive COVID positive. Walking through a mid-2 star Laughlin, Nevada casino, second handedly taking in a carton of cigarettes in 18 minutes and not being able to smell a thing, was better than having a sense of smell. So I got that goin' for me, 

which is nice. 

While my taste buds aren't quite back to firing on all cylinders, I decided to consume a few beverages that had been on the refrigerator shelf for a while. I've been dabbling in the hard Kombuchas lately, liking June Shine the most, but not so much the other brands I've tried. Again, since I can't quite tell the difference, they were tasty enough when I revisited. 

This got me thinking, 'I should drink the wine...' Hold on. Moment of truth. I'm coming clean. Reluctantly. 

I (we, Beth included) are not fans of sweet red wine. So, if you've been kind enough over the years to gift me a Stella Rosa, or something similar, we've either shared with friends who enjoy said sweet wines, re-gifted it, or it's still in the pantry. But it IS the thought that counts, so thank you. Whew, glad to get that off my chest. Moving on.... 

But what if I never drink the wine? Like, ever? Which led to, what do you do with long shelf lasting wine? Throw it away, eventually? Re-gift it? Then I started thinking about stores and bars. Do they keep marking it down until, eventually, someone will buy it? Bevmo's 1 cent wine deal, anyone? Do they ship it off to adults in need overseas like they do with merchandise of the runner-up to the Tom Brady Trophy every February?

Relax, Eagles' fans. I know he's lost a Super Bowl. The entire trophy is named after him now. Not just when he wins his own trophy, which is just about always. 

Moving on. So, somehow on my new commute, which is longer than my previous commute, I made a connection to music and wine. Go figure. Listening to SXM I get re-introduced to some tunes I hadn't heard in a while. For example the other day on the grungy rock station, Lithium, I heard an old, semi-obscure Smashing Pumpkins song, "Rocket." Awesome tune that I hadn't heard in probably 20 years. 

Then I got to wondering, 'what about those songs on albums that no one listens to anymore?' Let's be honest, with the latest and greatest listening services, how often do you listen to an artist's or band's album start to finish? I can answer that: Now? More often than you, probably. 

A new thing I've started on my commute, which is longer than my previous commute, is I pick an album that I haven't listened to in forever and play it start to finish. I haven't done this too many times yet, but plan on taking more frequent deeper dives. 

The revisit of the Pumpkins album did not disappoint. What a brilliant compilation. Still holds up. 

                                     

Jane's Addiction's, (no, I'm not listing the, "Nothing's Shocking," album simply because you didn't visit this blog to see boobs) "Ritual De Lo Habitual," didn't quite re-deliver like I had predicted. The great songs were still great. But those forgotten tunes, eh, too anthemy and Perry Farrell's voice just got to be too much. 

Here's where you come in. But before I share that, I am fully aware that:

1.) this may not be at all of an original thought. I've never clicked on it, but have seen The Rewatchables, a movie review podcast, pop up on Twitter. I might kinda be copying that concept. 

And 2.) this could violate my own jukebox rule of owning a restaurant or bar. Yes, Beth and I have these, "if we ever owned a restaurant, we'd..." conversations all the time. I don't think it's really a goal or dream of ours because the thought of entering week 5 of the restaurant biz and no weekend or vacation in sight sounds less than good. But we do talk about what would be on the menu. And ambience. Specifically how, I'll be damned if I'm gonna let the guy that's been both day and night drinking solo at the end of the bar chose the music for the entire establishment. I've been at my local, identity confused, shit-show of a tavern, T's, and heard the juke go back-to-back from Jason Aldean to Warrant. It wasn't pretty. 

I've also experienced first hand how a sweet sounding, poolside playlist can get hijacked by a friend feeling now is the perfect time to share with the group the solo artist no one else has heard of but they used to watch at a dive bar of their college town, and feel confident the rest of the pool crowd has been missing out for the past 25 years. That wasn't pretty either. 

lol, now every friend that's been over and caught a beautiful mid-day-pool-time buzz is wondering, "did I do that?" The answer is no. I cut them out of my life. Kidding. It might have been you. You're forgiven. 

But I have faith in all of you. Some faith. And I realize I don't really have to commit to anything. So, what "it" is: I'd like for your participation in replying to this post, the name of an artist or band and the album you recommend for my daily drive. Be serious now. It will forever be a reflection of how I view you and help guide if we ever invite you over again for dinner! 

Cheers! 

The Collector

 Can anyone else say or read the word "collector" and not hear Morgan Freeman's voice from, Kiss the Girls? If you could, you can't now!

"This guy's a collector."

Breaking news! Last week I learned that my ills were not (only?) a side effect from my first dose of the Moderna vaccination but actually the effects of testing positive for COVID. Thankfully, the rest of the fam is negative, my symptoms were no worse than "I feel blah," and I can't smell (still) and can't really taste much besides toothpaste, honey, and Cheetos. I even tested my senses with this, 

and nothin'. 

I kid, I kid. About the Fantesca tasting, not about COVID positive results (that's not funny).

So how does Morgan Freeman get into the post? Well, in my passing of time, three things happened. 1.) I got caught up on a few 30 for 30 documentaries, one of which, Long Gone Summer, on the 1998 homerun chase between Mark McGwire and Sammy Sosa.

In the doc, I learned/remembered that comic book creator, writer, and collector Todd McFarlane spent $2.6 million in '98 on a McGwire homerun ball. 

2.) Tom Brady collected yet another Lombardi Trophy and Super Bowl MVP. At what point do they just name both after him? I'll start a petition while I quarantine. 

and 3.) My Spring wine club shipments are on the horizon, emails coming in with wine selection options, pick-up/delivery options, possible add-ons...

and I got to thinking, because, what else could I do while laying like Cameron, but unlike Brian Wilson? 

"Am I a collector? And if I am, how do I feel about it?" 

I know a lot of people collect things, from shoes to antiques, shot glasses to ticket stubs, and yes, wine, both unopened bottles and empties 😘 . 

So, as I lay, thankfully, not dying, but wondering if I'd be able to ever taste the wine I'm buying, I questioned the above questions. Which led to another question, how much wine should one (or two, or a family) have? 

The answer is complicated. I suggest: ALL THE WINE! 

But really, my line, or rules, which is ever changing, are as follows:

- I don't want to buy wine that I'm afraid to drink. If it's that "special" or pricey that I can't bear to crack it open, I shouldn't be buying it. 

- I always like to have options (multiple) to pair with weekend and weekly meals. Yes, there's a difference.

- I like to have some backups of "value," or great bang for the buck, wines.

- I like to be ready for visitors. I've got a pretty good grasp on the palates of our friends, family and book club members. It gives me peace of mind to be prepared for their visit, even if no events are currently on the Eldridge Family Calendar. 

To meet my own set of rules, I have enough wine in the house that some could think we have problems, but also so little that would give some readers anxiety. You know who you are; I don't judge. 

In conclusion, I've decided I'm not a collector. Yet. But if my current state of near tastlessness continues, Beth is going to need help consuming our weekend stash. 

Stay at Home Orders

Here's the long story of how we tried to get Beth's picture on a wine label. 

With no East Coast Christmas trip this year, the first miss in 19 years for me, we decided to spend our winter break GSD (gettin' shit done)!

For a long time, we've wanted a second refrigerator in the garage. In order to fit a refrigerator in the garage, and still park our cars in the garage, well, there was some work to be done. 

It started with the purge. Before Beth put away the Christmas decorations we took out every bin, tub, and box  and went through it all. With overloaded trashcans, 3 trips to The Salvation Army, and some neighborhood Facebook page giveaways, we were freeing up some space. But then came the picture bins. Big plastic tubs packed with albums, frames, and lots and lots of loose pictures. 

Before I get to THE pic, I need to share a connection I made and brag about my amateur accomplishment. In the garage sat 7 leftover boxes of tile from when we tiled our downstairs. Why so much extra tile, you didn't ask? Because I measured for the pantry, purchased tile for the pantry, and for 7 years lived with  not ever tiling the pantry. I'm not proud of it. 

\

But, it was the week of GSD. I had the tools and I'd run out of excuses. So I set out to put those 7 boxes of tile in their intended place. And voila! 

Far from perfect, but I can live with it. Back to the point, almost. There's plenty of opportunity to let one's mind wander while squatting alone in a pantry for a weekend. And being imperfect and real is what I love about the wineries that I love. Herman Story being one of them. While some tasting menus might suggest pairing a wine with "a braised lamb shank with a cranberry reduction sauce on chilled endive leaves," Herman's sending its members taco & salsa recipes, bottles of hot sauce, beer coozies, and stories like this this in our email newsletters:

I guess I just appreciate authenticity and maybe imperfection over fuss. 

Back to the pictures. We set up shop in the garage trying to sort our lives snapshots into categories to store them with some sort of purpose, when I hear, "Oh. My. Ghawd." Now, mind you, Beth says this a few times a day. Over the years I've developed a pretty good grasp on the tone to tell if it's worthy of me stopping what I'm doing to see/help, or if she's maybe just talking to herself. This was a good sounding one. She was clearly not in danger. Not mad. But I knew I should check something out. I looked up, and knew we had ourselves a Late Bloomer candidate. Wanna know what that is? If you're still reading, sure you do. 

Herman Story has a wine label, Late Bloomer, for it's Grenache, that real-life wine club members submit their own pics to compete to hopefully grace the label of the next vintage. A quick google images search will lead you to this:

That top, left pic, that's the first ever LB label and sweet picture of the owner/winemaker himself. 

So, Beth's, "Oh. My. Ghawd." gave us hope that maybe we can know the person on next year's Late Bloomer wine label and reemphasized the fact that I'm a great younger brother by not posting pictures of my sister. 

I present to you, our submitted pic. 

and that's how I spent my winter break