fragments

I squatted in the gym, tots all around me. My three year old on my knee, her blond hair sweeping across my face. I can smell her, the smell of apple juice, soap, and toothpaste, the smell of a young child, the smell of my offspring. The gym is a blur around me, toddlers everywhere, each on her or his own mission. They move too fast for me, I can't grasp a particle of image, of their participation. Tears stream down my face, my daughter's hair is wet. My eyes are swollen. "I want daddy to pick me up", she says. "I love daddy". I can only imagine that I am standing on a fault line, straddling it. The crack has opened up so big I can no longer keep my balance. I am falling in, toward the center of the earth. Maybe release will come.

Such despair, I feel as if I have no one. I have nothing. I am nowhere. I am - not.

My daughter gives me a final hug and falls in line, the children leave the gym. Me? I am still in the middle of the room, squatting there. Wondering where I am. I bring myself to my feet. Hear my 40 something knees cracking, the crepitus is audible.

I can't cry anymore, I think as I stop at the redlight. A police car is behind me. Taking me to jail for destroying all I touch? Such pain at my forehead. Maybe if I stop eating, the hunger pains will drive out all else. Get skinny, reach that number. A win-win situation.

Tuesday's Wine Post

Some good wine recommendations at affordable prices. You can buy at Sams. www.samswine.com If legal in your state, you can have the wine shipped.

1998 Château Roc de Boissac Puysseguin St.-Emilion $10 Yep, that’s the price, one Hamilton – and for a 1998, no less. (A berry nice vintage in St.-Emilion.) A blend of Cabernet Franc and Merlot that is medium-bodied, terrifically soft and silky – those six years in bottle didn’t hurt – with scents of dark cherry compote, a touch of dusty earth and leather edging in. Here’s a steal, nonetheless perfect for an expensive meal of prime rib or filet mignon.

2000 Peachy Canyon Cabernet Sauvignon “De Vine” Paso Robles $15 Finding good California Cabernet for less than $25 – much less at $15 – is a tough dig. Here’s a stout Cabernet, very characteristic of its vintage and variety (dusty earth, dark brick color, hints of eucalyptus over flavors and aromas of Kir-like cassis liqueur and blackberries). You’d think that this would pucker you up with even a wee sip, but the tannins are frilly for so much depth, color and weight. It’s a bit hot (at 14% alcohol), but that doesn’t persist in the finish. Go for charred red meats as a table match.

2004 Villa Bucci Verdicchio dei Castelli di Jesi Le Marche $16 I’ve always lapped up this producer’s wines since I first tasted them many years ago. Ampelio Bucci took this heretofore workaday grape and buffed it into a sleek, finely-etched white worth standing among the world’s fine wines. At once tight & linear, soft & juicy, with buckets of lemon-y, citrus-y, crisp green apple aromas and flavors, all snapped shut with zesty acidity. It wants fish, shellfish, seafood, but wouldn’t turn down veal piccata or chicken paillards.

Pomegranates

I am on a pomegranate kick currently. My daughter, Chloe, asked me to buy her one at the grocery. They seemed to be past prime but I bought two anyway. I got one out of the fridge last night and ate it over the sink. They are work to eat and it takes time to access the arils, which are distributed throughout the pom in separate sections. I enjoyed the pomegranate so much, I ate fast and greedily, not wanting to share the succulent fruit with anyone. When I first started eating pomegranates, I put the arils in my mouth and sucked on the juice filled sacks. After all the juice was gone, I spat out the seeds. The seeds are a little woody, pulpy. I now enjoy the whole aril and eat the seeds too. I like the way they pop and release a spurt of sweetened cranberry-like flavor.

HOW TO EAT A POMEGRANATE

1. Cut off the crown and then cut the pomegranate into sections.

2. Place the pom in a bowl of water and then roll out the individual little sacks into the bowl of water with your fingers. Discard everything else.

3. Strain out the little sacks (arils) then eat the arils, seeds and all.

NUTRITIONAL INFORMATION

The pulp (seed) is 82.3% water and contains 63 calories per 100 grams of the edible portion. One pomegranate provides most of the body's daily potassium needs, a little vitamin C, a healthy dose of fiber, and no fat.

Tuesday's Wine Post

A recommendation of Italy's Piedmont region, as follows:

1999 Barbaresco Martinenga is very nice (even when I came back to it at the end of the tasting): a nose with mint, rose, plum; the palate is harmonious, with fruit, prune pit, and balance

1997 Barbaresco Camp Gros Martinenga smells of peat and kirsch; the palate is Barbaresco-typical, tannic and yet harmonious

1996 Barbaresco Cayun Martinenga smells of liquorice, fruit brandy, kirsch; the palate is evolved, fine, fresh, with a strange note on the finish; the aftertaste is a bit hard

1986 Barbaresco Cayun Martinenga is splendid - it smells of rose, leather, mushroom, toffee, rhubarb tart; tannins are velvety, the mouthfeel is fine, the alcohol is much less felt than in the younger Barbarescos

Fall of Innocence or Fall From Innocence?

Oh, Woe is Me

"Stop your wining, you wimp", I told myself in the mirror this morning. So, what, I am in the middle of a divorce. So, what, if I let my automobile insurance lapse. Yea, what's the big deal if two days after the insurance lapse, I smashed my vehicle into the back of another. Why would anyone distress over the fact that my passenger and I had airbags smacked into our faces while I moved my clothes from my home to an apartment. So, Sallie Mae is threatening to sue me. Yea, my body aches from lack of exercise, lack of proper nutrition, collisions, and moving. I have no car. I have no money to buy a car. My daughter's dance lessons, entry fees and costume fees cost as much as a car it seems. Nah, it's nothing to worry about. Seriously.

In a Scarlet O'Haraesque fashion, "I won't think about it today, I'll think about it tomorrow. After all, tomorrow is another day".

Seriously though, lots of curve balls but I am on my way to a better life. I am tired now but I will feel strong soon. I will eat better. I will exercise. My treadmill is moved and ready to plug in. I will plot out a running course in my neighborhood soon. I will bike to the grocery store when able. I will catch up on missed classics. I will put the kids to bed, exercise, and then settle down in my terry robe with a glass of wine and book in hand. (Maybe I will learn German). I will breathe deeply, sigh, dream. I will love. I will live. I won't miss an opportunity to love, I won't miss an opportunity to live. I will debate the fine points of jelly versus jam, and science versus religion. I will share wine with friends. I will finally, finally, have my "NO TV week moratorium" every month.

Are ya jealous?

A Turpentine-Dipped Brush with Fame

When I was born, my father took me to a geneticist and asked him to code "Republicanism" into my DNA. My father was very Republican in the 60s, 70s and 80s. I come from a family where Republican politics was once important. (This has changed because the Republican party degenerated and because we wizened up).

You can imagine how excited my father was when I got the opportunity to meet Richard and Pat Nixon. It was 1972 and Mr. Nixon was running for re-election. On his campaign trail, he planned to stop in Ashland, Kentucky, to participate in a political rally in his honor.

Ashland was buzzing with the news and an area promoter created a contest. The contest was to find some school children to pick state flowers and present them to the First Lady.

My third grade class won the contest. We were excused from school one afternoon to pick goldenrods (essentially weeds) from a nearby bug-infested field. After the bouquet was prepared, an essay contest was held among my peers to determine who would actually deliver the bouquet to the President and First Lady. I won, and in the spring of 1972, I had about 6 seconds of minor fame. At the rally, the Mayor announced that the state was presenting the Nixons with a bouquet made from state flowers. He then introduced me and read my essay entitled, "How Presidents work". I walked onto the stage with the goldenrods (ticks, mites, lady bugs and beetles were probably plucked from the field to ride among the golden fronds).

My parents beamed with pride. I gave the flowers to Pat, and Richard shook my hand. Photographs were taken of the three of us together.

As I returned to my seat, I decided that I liked the Nixons. Richard had smiled warmly at me and told me that I was a smart young lady. (As I recall, my essay was picked because I grasped the concept of the presidential cabinet). Pat laid her hand on my cheek.

When the crowd began chanting, "four more years, four more years". I joined in, demonstrating my ability to multiply by fours and shouted "four more years, eight more years, twelve more years". I would have continued multiplying if a lady hadn't asked me to be quiet. I was upset and began crying. My father explained that all Mr. Nixon could receive were four more years. President's can't serve more than two terms.

Who knew that only a short time later America would be rocked by Watergate, one of the greatest political scandals of all time? I guess I could be partially responsible for Nixon's fall from grace. The bug-infested bouquet I delivered may have given him the idea to "bug" private meetings.

WINE DON'TS

1. Don't drink wine from a coffee mug.

2. When going to a wine tasting, leave your pet monkey at home.

3. Don't eat chocolate chip ice cream and pickle relish with a fine Italian Barolo

4. It isn't necessary to stick out your pinky.

5. Don't chew bubblegum while tasting.

6. No, mixed drinks aren't white and red wine swirled together.

7. Don't put cabernet sauvignon in the freezer, it's not that good slushy.

8. Don't drink the wine two weeks after it's uncorked.

9. Don't open the cork with a pocket knife.

10. Don't be a wine snob.