Tag Archives: wine

Why is my dog purple?


I took the Queen for walkies today, go me! The weather was good (not pissing rain or looking like it was about to, not windy) and I was up, washed, motivated, and looking out the window at 3pm. The timing is important, because the local school lets out at 3:30 or thereabouts and I detest walking Herself through hordes of tweens. She doesn’t like them, they hog the pavement (sidewalk), and sometimes they try to pet her, which really freaks her the fuck out. I’m not thrilled to deal with them either, though I do like it when one says ‘that dog is savage!’ when we pass, because ‘savage’ means ‘awesomely cool’ and not ‘vicious throat-ripping beast.’

We had a good little walk, with no excitement. She did get to go into the post office with me, a rarity. I won’t take her inside if there’s a queue (unless it is people we know). She’s a big dog, I don’t want to scare anyone, and our post office is usually chock-full of old ladies. The Queen loves old ladies. When she loves you and wants to say hi, she does this funny front-legs bounce which can be intimidating. She’s under control, but just looks a bit excitable.

Today she got to put her feet up in the service window and say hi to the clerk; that was good.

We also went in the Paper Shop, to see if my mother in law was working. She wasn’t, but I had a little chat with one of her co-workers on issues of little importance. I do like my town.

We also had a short visit with Chris. Chris is… not all there. I believe the story is that he lives in a home for the handicapped, but by his own admittance. He always wears a suit, no tie. He perches his bony butt on the windowsills of various businesses up and down the main street and chain-smokes. Some days are bad days for him; when you say hello he doesn’t answer and his upper lip is caught on a snaggled lower tooth, making him look a bit deranged. Other days, like today, are good ones, and he’ll actually talk a moment and ask about the dog. He never remembers that he always asks the same things.

On the way home, Dogzilla likes to walk on the church wall as it gives her a nice perspective to survey every.last.moving.thing. I lean and wait while she checks out the ‘hood. Today, I noticed a purple spot on her lovely white fur. And another, smaller one, near it:


I know the pic sucks. It’s just for funsies.

It took me a moment to puzzle out why my dog had purple spots. Then I remembered: she was on the couch with iDJ last night after dinner. He was drinking wine. Red wine. He spilled wine on the dog!

I think he could officially have a drinking problem… at the very least, getting it into his mouth!

Wine sucks


I have to write something! I’m sitting here, just goofing around fingerpainting instead of putting words on paper. Um. Pixels on pixels? Just what the hell is it called when you write digitally, anyway? We need new clichés.

I actually do use paper on occasion. Mostly to make a quick note to remind me of something funny, or a good turn of phrase I want to keep, something I want to Google later, or a date of importance. I have a crap memory. I blame it on all those drugs I did in the 60’s. Drugs, at least, would explain why I cannot keep to a single topic in a paragraph. Bad writing? Probably. Do I give a shit? Obviously not. This blog is me upending my cerebellum and splashing around in the puddle.

How many topics did I fit in there? I could have kept going.

Right, notes. I have four from last night, two from conversations with iDJ and two from the KIBIS meeting. One of the ones from my beloved relates to wine, and I have a photo to share, so without further ado, let’s talk about wine!

It sucks.

Okay! The ‘meeting’ was great craic of course. I’m glad we are making an effort to have a get-together regularly. Lawsy me, I do need a social life. We mostly talk about our pets, because we are all animal people and all have at least two fur-persons in our respective homes. Our representative from Italy (hereafter Mrs MMC) currently has way, way more than two, in two countries and at least three houses. Wow! Loads of stories, and despite English not being her first language, she can really tell a funny tale. But I can’t share them, because I wasn’t taking notes. Well, except for those two times I mentioned…

Mrs MMC and I share our homes with menfolk, along with the other animals. We have picked menfolk who are particularly good at letting animals manipulate them. If one of their cats miaows at her hubby he panics, trying to figure out what kitty wants: Do you want me to make you a sausage? Some take out? A curry?

My other note was about when they are at his parents’ house. Now, they feed a lot of local strays, and there are a lot of strays. Mrs MMC catches and has them vet checked and sterilised at her own expense, by the way. Thank you! Anyhow, there are always a rake of kitties outside on the back patio. When the parents aren’t home, Mr & Mrs MMC leave the door wide open and let the furry masses troop in and out as they please.

Right, maybe you had to be there.

Back to wine. Here’s iDJ’s temporary workstation last evening:


Yes, my Halloween decor is over the top. Feic off. I love Halloween.

Please note he has the essentials: Plastic Halloween wine glass, Mac laptop, and a box-o-wine, all ready to hand. Blargh! Even if I could stand wine, I cannot imagine boxed wine decanted into plastic tastes good. Yes, dear, I know we’re broke (that is for when he reads this and gives out to me for making fun of cheapo wine in a cardboard bottle).

Ugh! Just now: I needed to check the internal temperature on my pork roast. I’m not allowed to bend over cuz of the bad back, so I got on my knees in front of the oven (I’m tall, this put me eye level with the meat thermometer). iDJ starts in right away about how he never sees me on my knees anymore. Like, as in prayer (we are atheist). I told him I was praying to the pork, then wished I never, ever, said that.

Back to wine. See, I hate it so much I can’t even be arsed to keep writing about it for 10 minutes! M’man was giving me stick about not liking wine, and pulled out his old standard, “One of these days. I’ll keep working on you.” This got him a glare of rage and a rant about how, at my age, I fucking well know what I like, and no amount of different colours or flavors of wine was ever going to convince me that wine is palatable.

He kept at me, and I finally shut him up by threatening him with the words that have been uttered many a time since blogs were invented – just not said by me.

“Don’t make me blog about this!”