Cheapo Wino Review Wednesday

Remember on Monday, when I told you that my “7 things about me” would continue on Wednesday?  Well, I forgot that today is cheap wine review day.  Sorry to those that were hoping to read a story about my menstrual cramps or something just as insightful.

Today’s wine selection was brought to you by my local liquor store owner, Rocco.

The review:

Oracle Shiraz 2011  South Africa Coastal Region $9.99

Wine Makers Notes:  “This ruby-colored red shows delightful aromas of red berries and spice that emerge on the palate with a touch of oak.  A dollop of spice and all things nice.”

toutonselection.com Notes :”The Oracle Shiraz is a brilliant ruby-colored wine. It’s an expressive Shiraz with delightful aromas of red berries and an oriental spice that emerges on the palate with a melding of oak.”

Kim’s Notes:  “WTF, Rocco?”

Seriously.  After acknowledging its beautiful ruby color, I leaned in to take a whiff and holy hell!  I swear I could smell the feet that were used to stomp the grapes.

Rocco, you and your little yellow signs are dead to me.

pic from www.sqlj.org

Ok, now the taste…this is where it gets confusing for me.  Once you put the smell aside, the taste itself wasn’t that bad.  Overall, it was smooth, light, and low in acidity.  But damn, every time my nose went in the glass….Just. Damn.

I imagine it would pair well with other stinky shit, like swiss cheese and cabbage.

While this wine isn’t for everyone, I think it would be most appreciated by mouth breathers and allergy sufferers.  It’s also the perfect wine to take to your next Bingo night, grandma’s 90th birthday, an AARP meeting, or really anywhere with old people as their smell is the first thing to go.

CHEERS!

If you’ve had a great wine under $15, please leave it in the comments so that I can create a large Mommy’s Wine Resource Page.

 

Tips for Tuesday: Turn crappy stuff into cool stuff.

A couple weeks ago, my bloggy friend Jen, at Life on the Sonny Side made a comment on my Free Advice Friday post that got my wheels spinning.  She off-handishly asked if I might make something simple, like a DIY ice pack. Hmmm, a DIY ice pack…

Without my consent, my mind immediately set to work.

FACT- I operate on several levels. Conveniently, I also have an auto pilot function for boring tasks.

I’m not going to lie, my first ice pack design was something so awesomely inappropriate that I was almost giddy with…I guess, inappropriateness?  But I thought to myself  “Candy Ass (positive self-talk), your mama just might pass out if she reads this one”.

Damn it, I’m totally dying to tell someone…sooo,email me if you want to know.  But remember, once you read my idea, you can never unread it- let’s just say it’s for men. God, I hope someone asks me before I burst.

So instead, I’ve decided to take the safe route and make something that’s cute, useful, and completely appropriate, I think.

I don’t know about you, but we have an overabundance of crappy stuffed animals from carnivals, the boardwalk, and those money sucking claw machines (If you don’t believe me, read this post or this one).  We also have a klutzy family.  I thought, why not turn shit into gold!

A Stuffed Animal Icepack

Materials:

crappy stuffed animal

Ziplock bag

tape

scissors

water

Is it me or does he look a little worried?
Aww, it’ll be ok little fella.

Instructions:

Step 1 – Make an incision in his belly, keeping it below the bikini line so he’s not self conscious come swimsuit season.

But guess what Bear, it doesn’t matter how many god-forsaken sit-ups you do, that flap is never going away!

Step 2 – Remove most of the stuffing.  Fill your Ziplock bag with water, the amount will vary depending on your stuffed animal’s cavity size.  I judged my bear to be a 36C, but I ended up having to pour about half out (34A, I know the feeling Bear, I know the feeling).  Generously tape along the top of the Ziplock bag then insert in your animal.

*side note- Collin came home from school as I was working on this.  He saw the the bear sprawled out, stuffing everywhere, and me shoving a taped Ziploc bag of water inside of it.  And he asks “what’s for dinner?”. Really? That’s your question?

Step 3 – Either hand sew or machine sew its belly shut, being very careful not to puncture the bag.

Ok, HONESTY MOMENT…Something went dreadfully wrong.  I was about to sew the bear’s belly when I noticed that his fur was wet.  I didn’t want to believe I had a leaker…

Shit.  I had promised Ana that her bear (which she didn’t even know she owned until that moment) was going to become something “special”.  Shit.

Plan B

We call him “Snack Attack Bear”.  Really, it’s the best use of a gutted out teddy bear that I could come up with.

Plan B, for when Plan A was never going to work.

Summary:  I really think that this DIY Ice Pack could work.  It’s like the early boob jobs, it takes a bit of experimenting to find a bag that doesn’t leak.

Summary of the Summary:  As I’m sitting here, I’m wondering why I didn’t use those little gel packs that they use in coolers.  Why the hell did I fill a Ziplock with water? GAWD!

Ok, do all the same steps but replace “Ziplock bag filled with water” with “little cooler thingees” and really, this whole DIY Ice Pack should work.

An award! I can’t understand why I got it- but I’m taking it!

My wonderfully talented bloggy friend Jen, at Life on the Sonny Side bestowed upon me the “Very Inspiring Blogger Award”!

You can’t imagine how flattered I was until you’ve read her blog. Her writing is so warm, so beautiful, and it seems to just flow from her heart straight to her keyboard. I like to imagine tiny bluebirds fluttering around her as she writes.

So you and I are probably equally baffled as to why I might inspire her. After all, my writing seems to flow straight from my ass. But not one to look a gift horse in the mouth (I need to look that phrase up), I grabbed the award and ran! But hold on- it comes with some strings attached…

Luckily, the rules to this award are simple, they state that I have to share 7 things about myself and then pass this award on to a few bloggers that inspire me. Ok, 7 things? Have you guys noticed that I tend to elaborate a bit? We may have to split this sucker up- I mean after all, you’ve got things to do today, right? Here we go…

7 things about me

1. I almost failed driver’s education.

Yes, it’s true. I remember pretending to forget my scheduled driving times because I dreaded the stress of operating a vehicle that could potentially kill someone. Call me crazy. Unfortunately, this led to make-up sessions with my teacher that were filled with anger, resentment, and anxiety…on his part.

During one drive, he said I was the most nervous driver that he’d ever been forced to ride with. Forced? Way to build my confidence Mr. Johnson. Anyway, I was about to accuse him of overreacting when I suddenly swerved off the road to avoid hitting a low flying bird. Maybe he had a point.

At the end of the semester, though he wanted to, he couldn’t technically fail me because I had attended every class and passed every test. So here’s what that sneaky bastard did, he required that I get a Driver’s Permit instead of a license. This meant I’d have to drive with my parents for months before I could legally drive alone.

“Fine”, I said.
“Come again?” said my parents.

I don’t think they wanted to ride with me either.

But guess what…when I went to the DMV to get my permit I walked out with a WHAT!? WHAT!?…yeah kids, the DMV screwed up (go figure), I got my license!

Later that night, to demonstrate their faith in my driving ability (and because they didn’t feel like getting dressed), my parents sent me to pick up subs for dinner.

Wahoo! For the first time ever, I was going to drive by myself!

On the way to the sub shop I was amazed at how different it was to drive at night. It was so dark. So hard to see. Did I mention dark?

It didn’t occur to me until I got home…I forgot to turn on my headlights! Well, Mr.Johnson, that’s what happens when all of your stupid classes are held during the day. Jeez.

2. I have a cactus phobia.

You know how many of your childhood memories are almost forgotten except for the really awful or really wonderful ones. Yeah well…CACTUS. Maybe my mom will say it happened differently, but this is how my memory goes…

Setting: Me, sitting in the shopping cart. A table lined with various cactus plants is next to me. The table is shopping cart level. Many of the cacti look thorny but some look almost soft & fuzzy.

oh so soft

I’m not quite sure what these plants are but I want to touch them.

Mom: Kim, don’t touch the cactus plants. (she turns away)

Me: ok

(don’t touch, don’t touch, don’t touch,- ohhh, they look so fuzzy, must touch)

Holy hell! Before I knew it, cactus needles were buried deep in my palms! Let me tell you, I DID NOT grab that shit half-assed. Oh no no no, I squeezed tightly, hoping to feel every inch of its cute little fuzziness.

Quickly thinking, my mother bought tweezers and we stood outside of the store’s entrance as she plucked every thorn out of my hand.

At that point, the whole thing becomes a blur. But according to her, many people walked by us that day, me sobbing and her plucking my hand and saying “I told you not to touch”.

Yes, people probably thought I was being tortured, yet no one stepped in to save me. Real nice 1970’s people, real nice.

To this day I refuse to come within a foot of nature’s cruelest plant, the cactus. Truth be told, I’m most resentful of the cacti classified as “fuzzious bastardidis”, those are the ones that really piss me off. They seduce you with their appearance of softness and before you know it, you’ll disobey your mama just to touch one.

3. Oh shit, this is getting long guys. Let’s call this Part 1 and I’ll let you absorb all this incredible insight into my psyche and we’ll pick up on Wednesday (Tomorrow is Tips for Tuesday).

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