No Matter What the Weather, You and the Clouds will Still be Beautiful

The wine. Jumping Courtney on a bender, Dad’s wine is good this year.

Thursday, of course, was New Wine and Chestnuts Day, also known as St. Somebody Or Other Day. It’s the day when Italians deem the new wine “ready” for tasting. My parents have already been into the wine. The first bottle they drank was to make sure it would be OK for us on St. SOOD. The other 7 bottles? Well, they don’t have to make excuses. They’re my parents.

First, though, we had to make the traditional St. SOOD Trip to Ikea to buy Bookshelves. We went with Birch Billy Bookshelves and three Benno CD Towers. Kickass! Saint Aardvark has assembled them all while I have been glued to Guy Across the Street’s TV.

(Right now, GATS is watching THREE channels at once. There are several guys over drinking beer. One of them is wearing a green and white striped tuque with a pompom. Damn! I thought GATS was a shut-in, or an invalid, or a sad 70s relic who came into some money and got conned by a Future Shop salesman into spending it on a home theatre system so he could watch Apocalypse Now: Redux and smoke copious dope for the forseeable forever. How do you have a party in an apartment that small with a TV that big which is now showing Family Guy? Yet one dude is still hanging out in the kitchen, waiting for the kitchen party to come to him, I guess.)

Anyway. Bookshelves: up. Yummy.

Wine:

(those are the chestnuts, actually. If you store them in sand, they don’t go rotten. It’s TRUE!)

Usually my Dad’s wine, on its first go, tastes of, um, potential. You drink it because it’s wine and you eat the chestnuts and you get way too full and then you go to sleep and wait a few months until the wine tastes SuperGood! For months my parents have been saying, the new wine! It’s fantastic! But I didn’t believe them.

Until Thursday.

So good, my parents debated who would be a better US president: John Kerry or Hilary Clinton.

So good we ran a block and a half to catch our bus home, me carrying the carpet underlay and the orange wire basket, Saint Aardvark with his packsack full of last year’s wine.

So good, ER made me cry.

If I could afford to buy the world a Coke, I would ask if maybe I should offer the world some of this wine instead. It’s that good.