Bottling Wine

My dad makes his own wine. I don't exactly remember when he started doing this, but it has to have been at least seven years. I think. I don't know, but I know the wine he bottled today was three years old. The big glass bottles have been sitting down in the basement for three years, and my mom has been bitching about it. Every time we were down stairs together, she would say, "I wish he would bottle that goddamn wine!"

But, he let it sit for three years. I woke up and he was pouring the wine in bottles. I bet my mom was ecstatic, though she wasn't admitting it. The thing with alcohol is that the longer you let it age, the better it is. So, the three years definitely payed off, I guess. My dad tasted it and said it was delicious. My mom and Angie liked it too. I'm only 20, so I didn't taste it, though I'm sure one sip wouldn't have killed me. But, I have six more months until I turn twenty-one, so I'm being good.

Today he bottled some kind of white wine (I don't know what it was and I'm too lazy to get up and ask. When I know, I'll fix this :)) and Zinfandel Blush (the red wine). Six months from now, I'll let you know what I think about them.

We have a lot of bottles of wine in the basement now though. Which is fine. It goes pretty fast because we give it to everyone for Christmas, anniversaries, and birthdays. Maybe I'll give my fellow blogger, Kayla over at Sip Worthy a bottle.

Queen of the Woods! (and Ticks)

Our first dog, Shiner was Queen of the Woods. She was always in the woods. Sniffing, running, digging, pooping. She was always doing something. She also had a lot of ticks on her over the years. Of course we always give our dogs tick and heart-worm medicine, but it doesn't seem to help to keep ticks off of them when they are in the woods all the time.

Now that Shiner has passed away, Brandy has taken over her job. Everyday she seems more and more like Shiner. Not the sick Shiner that we have known the last few years, but the healthy, digging, dirt covered dog that we fell in love with. She sits on the back of the couch watching over her woods. She loves belly rubs like Shiner did. She poops in the woods. She digs. She runs around the house like a psycho women. She's so much like her, it's scary. We are waiting for her to kill her first ground hog.

Anyway, this morning my sister came over. She was sitting in the chair petting Brandy. It was a very relaxing morning, when all of a sudden my sister screams, "Ew! She has a tick on her!"

I just looked over at her. So take it off, I thought.

"Go get dad!"

I got up and went down stairs to get dad. Of course, he was on the phone with an old friend. I told him and my mom and left. I came up and told my sister that he was coming, and I knew he would eventually. So, my sister sat in the chair with her hands on poor Brandy's face freaking out over this small bug.

I sat laughing at her. Eventually, Dad got off the phone and came up. He looked at my sister. He said, "I gotta poop."

He walked back into his room and my sister scowled. "Can't you take a poop later? There are more important things than pooping!" She shouted after him.

"Not to his colon and bowls," I said starring at my computer.

"Get it off," she said to me.

"No," I said without looking up. "You found it you do it."

My dad did take the tick off, so no worries. But, not until after his poop. Priorities man, priorities. 

If don't know what ticks are, my fellow blogger Justin over at A Conscious Omnivore just posted about them today. What a coincidence. You can find the post here!