It's a long way to Tipperary

It's a long way to Tipperary it's a long way back home. . . . Or something or other. Let's just say, I went on a power walk tonight, knowing I would be at a bonfire occasion and prepared myself, by buying my most "favouritest" wine ever. Ya, ya. . .I know it's a cheap one, but it's the one I started drinking it out of silver goblets when I was just a a spring pea out of a pod. It is on rare occasion that I do buy a bottle of wine for myself, because my husband is quite the snob when it comes to vintages and dryness, ahhhh the anal retentiveness goes on. He was on nights, so I thought, here is my chance to buy my memories. I did it, without guilt or shame. Castlevitro. It has some spunk. It has just enough bubbly goodness to get you over the hump. No, I don't drink normally, because, that's when I start with the verbal diarrhea, and the funny stories that seem to haunt me. It is like drinking a really yummy tart raspberry. I truly recommend it to the non snobby wine indulger's. So, the power walk was intense, and I had developed quite the thirst, not realizing that those fuzzy bubbles would have such an effect, I drank at least a litre. Considering, that only two standardized drinks, are my threshold, I feel/felt quite happy and light. Except when my chair fell over because my dog pulled towards the bull. Such is life. The evening was spent down the road at W.B's house, with Gibbles and Wookie in tow, and a bunch of other stray Huronians. Ah, the snap crackle and pop of the fire, compounded with the mid summer breeze, and the smell and piercing eyes of the bulls behind us, made for an enjoyable evening. It may not make for an enjoyable morning, but c'est la vie. Frappez la rue mon amies. Je tres bonne, avec la vin et la champignons. Sacre blue. C'est dommage. Get out the cornichans. Je suis tres fatiquez.