Although I am fussy about wine—nothing sweet, please!—I do not do any research before choosing a bottle.
This Thanksgiving's visit to the wine shop was no exception. I knew that I wanted white wine and resorted to an age-old selection process: I chose the prettiest label.
Nothing with surfboards, dogs, or maisons (although I did have a fantastic surfboard wine in Canada this summer)—just flowers and pretty, elegant script.
And, happily, the wine was just what I had wanted.
As for Queenie, my 110-pound golden retriever, the après-meal turkey remnants, double-wrapped, secured within a third larger bag, (trustingly) positioned by the door until a break in the rain, were just what she had wanted too.
She’d been waiting five years for this opportunity, and made the most of it while her foolhardy humans settled in for a post-pumpkin pie chat.
I think I’d better pour another glass of wine.