Today, I woke up BEFORE the sun rose, which is a cruel punishment on a Sunday, when one has to spend five out of the seven days rising before the sun. It was random, really. I was awakened from a lovely slumber by, of all things, a sore toe! I know, right!? A crazy toenail woke me up at 4:30 a.m.
All I have to say is thank goodness for coffee! In fact, after I poured my first cup and took a long slurp, I uttered out loud, "Praise Jesus for coffee!" And I was being sincere. Really. Praise Jesus for the man or woman that thought through the growing, harvesting, roasting, grinding, and brewing of coffee. That dark liquid miracle in a cup has gotten me through a myriad of foggy mornings, and I, for one, am eternally grateful.
Now, if we're talking about an evening beverage, allow me to introduce you to my newest favorite bottle of booze!
|Pardon the funky fridge photo. That is all healthy stuff you see in there.|
Moscato is my latest wine de jour. It is just sweet enough but not too sweet, like those cough medicine sweet wines that make me gag. And a Moscato isn't too dry. Dry wine gives me a stomach ache ... oh sure. I would probably grow to enjoy a Chardonnay, but why bother when you have Moscato?
Some brilliant sommelier, or wine maker or whatever you call the person that has been sooooo brilliant, has come up with an ingenious invention, so to speak. That of a bubbly Moscato; I mean, it truly is bubbly heaven in your mouth. Those bubbles can be dangerous, however, because it is just a happy dessert in your mouth sort of experience.
Which is why I am super careful about how much of it I drink, well, that and the fact that it contains soooo many Weight Watchers points, and I am getting ever closer to reaching my 10% goal (almost a year after "joining up" again), and man! It feels so good grabbing stuff off the rack at Goodwill, as I did last night, and donning it, only to discover that my biggest issue is to make sure it isn't TOO big or the worst color ever for my skin tone. Oh I have a long way to go before I am at the end of this bumpy ride, but it feels soooooo very good. I am so very thankful to the faithful few that have encouraged me as I attempt to drop what equates to a small child from my body -- they have cheered me on, not allowed me to rationalize my bad behavior, and have been nothing but happy for me.
Isn't it amazing when you have cheerleaders on your team? I use to think that cheerleaders were not necessary to the vital role of a team, but I am beginning to see that they, in fact, have a very vital role to play. They keep morale up. They keep the crowd roaring. They provide the entertainment factor necessary to get through the rough patches in the road to victory (or possible the train wreck of defeat). I can't say that I have tons of cheerleaders on my team, but those I do have, cheer hard and cheer loud.
I thought for a while that I wanted to be a cheerleader in middle school. Then I found out that I would have to create my own routine, and, well, that ended that thought. There are a lot of things from my youth that seemed so important at the time that really isn't that much anymore. I suppose that's the way it should be. We mature. Our tastes grow -- hopefully, for the better, and we, in some cases, gain some taste! Case in point, below.
I used to dab, okay, maybe drown would be a better word choice, the perfume contained in this adorable little bottle. The bottle is much cuter than the perfume smelled. Thank goodness my perfume tastes have grown to something that smells slightly better than wallpaper paste! Still, to be able to see that old Avon perfume bottle, a collector's bargain, at $8.00 (only $3.00 or $4.00 more than what the original cost, I am relatively sure) did my heart good. A bit of my childhood right there in front of me. And then I remembered where I was ... an antique/peddler's mall. The full understanding of my age began to sink in as I stood marveling at that little bottle.
It was random, really ...