A Little Punch Drunk

While there is usually one kind of kitchen witchery or another going on here at my house in the hills, today is one of my favorites!  You see, for several weeks I have been carefully watching little balloons dancing in the air atop many dark glass bottles.  A few days ago their dance became somewhat lackluster, and this morning they were found to be completely dead on their feet, thus signaling the completion of fermentation of my blackberry wine.

Things became quite busy in the kitchen today with several batches to strain, bottle, taste and seal.  In short, it’s been a damn fine morning!

All that tasting resulted in a couple of sweet things:  One, I got a pretty good buzz going by noon (trust me when I say that’s not a regular occurrence,) and two, all that lovely blackberry wine eased the sore throat I’ve been nursing…or maybe it’s just gone numb…I’ll take it, either way.

I haven’t made much writing progress this week, as I’ve been sick with the start of school crud that my daughter has no doubt carried home with her.  I broke down yesterday and went to the doctor because I saw an alarming amount of blisters on the back of my tongue.  It turned out to not be blisters at all, but rather some rogue taste buds that have mistakenly come to believe that they are in a race with my ass in terms of size…sigh.  Regardless, the finished wine seems to have put some pep back in my step, lol.

Because I’ve been sick, I decided to look over an old piece I had written to add to my blog instead of writing something new this week…turns out that I either had the writing prowess of a nine year old last year when I wrote it, or my illness has caused me to have an aggressively judgmental mind set, because it was pure garbage!

Stephen King says to always let your work simmer for a couple of weeks and then read it again before you decide if it’s good or not.  I guess we could call that the fermentation of the written word.  Perhaps a year was just too long and spoilage occurred…

How do you feel when you return to something you wrote long ago, does it rest on your tongue like a sweet blackberry wine to be savored, or do you often find yourself puckering in confusion??

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