So this might be the funniest/saddest/weirdest confession you’ll ever read. I love wine (that’s not the confession). But BFing Baby D means that I can’t indulge that often or as much as I’d like in one sitting (yes, I’m a certified wine-o). So the other day, I read about Sutter Home’s newest “wine”, Fre. The catch? It’s alcohol free. By some weirdo process they take the fun out. So, I jumped and actually went to get it. Does it taste like my fave Pinot? Negative. Doesn’t even come close. But did I just pour myself a glass to go through the motions of typsifying my night? Why, yes indeed I just did!
It’s kind of like when I quit smoking. There are still times now when I feel like I need a cig in my hand. Do I want to smoke an actual cigarette? Heck no! But something about the motions of it makes me feel so comforted sometimes. Is that sick? Like when I’m sitting in traffic on the highway, I’d love to blast the radio, roll down my window and just take a drag. But I don’t really, I just want the comfort of the motions. Or, when I’m at an outdoor cafe type place and I’m having a cocktail (ok, this hasn’t happened in a long time but I know it would be one of those times I’d get the feeling). I want my wine glass (with real wine) in one hand, and my cig in the other.
So weird the comfort of going through the motions, like the fake-yawn and fake-glance around….am I nuts?