A Spot of T

We are an Equal Opportunity Blog here at A Spot of T

For those of you who have been reading my blog for a little while now you will know a couple of weeks ago I wrote a post in which I was quite excited that Gregg admitted I was right and he was wrong.  I went on about how, with Gregg and I anyway, I am rarely right.  I also went on to say if you think I am stubborn you have never met my husband and that is why he is always right.  In his opinion.  So when I'm actually right?  When Gregg admits I'm right?  I shout it from the rooftops.  Or write it on my blog so he can't tell me what to do.

Only problem with that is, Gregg expects the same kind of courtesy back.  Even though I didn't write about what Gregg said I was right about, today?  Here and now?  I will write about what Gregg was right about.  And I'm not going for brownie points here.  If I were to be brutally honest with all my friends here, I'd tell you circumstances are that this memory of mine just doesn't work like everyone else and I can't for the life of me remember.  I do however remember I was right.  That stuck in this ol noggin of mine.  And that's the main thing.

So what was Gregg right about?  What does he bring up every single time he calls me from out of town?  Wondering why I haven't written about it on my blog yet?  He was right about red wine.  Gregg was right about red wine.  Did you all hear that?  Because I can yell it if need be.

The story begins after a visit to my doctor and I decided to start drinking wine.  Red wine.  Our son Michael works at a liquor store so I asked him if he knew of any good wine.  He didn't, but he said he would ask one of the ladies who work there because one lady in particular loves wine and is an expert in wine...picking.  He came home with a list of four red wines the wonderful lady picked for me to try.  I decided on one and the next time Michael worked, he brought the wine home for me.  Excellent.

I'm not a wine drinker.  I'm not even going to pretend I know anything about wine because I don't.  Bailey's I know.  Kahlua?  MMMmm boy do I know Kahlua.  And Vodka I really know.  But wine?  Absolutely nothing.  Smell it, swirl it, put it in the right glass, hold a pinky up while drinking it, it makes no never mind to me.  The hillbilly redneck in me doesn't allow for such nonsense.  It's strictly "Crack it open, pour it in a chipped mug and if it tastes good and doesn't bring on a screaming headache then by golly she's a keeper."

So when my son brought home my first bottle of red wine.....ever....it sat on the counter for weeks.  Then Gregg came home.  Then Gregg saw the bottle of red wine sitting on the counter.  Then he said "Oh red wine.  You're supposed to drink that warm you know.  I can't drink my red wine at room temperature."

I have known this man for 26 years and I can count on one hand how many times I've seen him drink wine.  And red wine?  Zilch.  Zero.  None.  So when he makes a statement like "You're supposed to drink red wine at room temperature." because he's Gregg and thinks he knows everything.  I make the horrible mistake of thinking I've got one on him.  You know.  Because he's in his opinion always right.  So I say "Ya right.  Drinking wine warm is ridiculous.  That doesn't even make sense."  Then he turns to me and says "No really, I heard some where you're supposed to drink red wine at room temperature."  I?  Didn't believe him.  It seemed impossible to me that anyone would or could drink wine at room temperature.  I like things chilled.  Warm wine?  Blah.

Gregg left for out of town and the detective in me asked Michael to ask the lady who recommended the wine if it was indeed to be served warm.  Guess what?  Red wine is supposed to be served at room temperature when you drink it.  This hillbilly didn't know that.  Which means it's not only a great lesson to keep your mouth shut if you aren't 100% sure about something, but it also meant.....da da dahhhhhh.....Gregg was right.  Damn.

Oh sure, I didn't have to say anything.  I could have gone to my grave never admitting I found out Gregg was right over the proper way to drink red wine.  My son wouldn't have squealed.  He thinks his parents are nuts have issues so him and his sisters stay right out of the way when it comes to Gregg and I and things like this.  But with Gregg?  I've learned in 26 years these things don't stay buried.  He waits.  All sneaky like.  Like a freaking Ninja.  And when you least expect it, jumps on you and let's you know how wrong you were.  And it's usually in a crowd of about twenty people with me turning fourteen shades of red.

So I thought I would be the bigger person and admit to him I did find out you are to drink red wine at room temperature.  And he?  Loved it.  Loved that he was right.  Of course he loved it more that I was wrong.  And what do you think was the first thing that came out of his mouth?  "Are you going to put THAT on your blog Joy??"  I said no.  He said "You have to.  If you're going to blog you should be an equal opportunity writer Joy."  I said "Equal opportunity schmequal opportunity."

So here we go.....

Gregg was right about drinking red wine at room temperature.  I was wrong.  There.  Stupid equal opportunity blog.

Kindness Can Start With The Simplest Of Things

I had a lot of dry cleaning to take in the other day.  When I got to the dry cleaners I use, I managed to get everything bundled up and into my freakishly long but chubby arms.  It wasn't really awkward, but my arms were definitely full.  To make things just a bit more exciting, out of habit, I also grabbed my suitcase size purse to take in with me because I didn't want to leave it in the vehicle.

So there I was.  Arms full of clothes, one big purse, sun glasses on top of my head and my vehicle keys dangling from the one finger that wasn't supporting any clothes.  My dry cleaner is in an old mall.  You climb up about 8 steep steps to get into this old mall and when you get to the top of those stairs there are no automatic doors awaiting you.  Which means everything is done manually.  Which is normally not a problem unless you have your hands full like I did that day.

I was pleased to see an old gentleman take to the stairs in front of me because that meant I wouldn't have to struggle with the big door when I reached the top of the stairs.  Or you would think wouldn't you?

I could rant and rave about what happened next but I'm not going to.  I'm sure you see where this is leading.  The old gentleman gets to the top of the stairs with me close behind him, opens the door just enough to get himself in the door and then lets the door close behind him.  I am so close to him I could practically touch him if my arms were stretched out, so I refuse to believe he didn't see me there.  He did the exact same thing with the other set of doors inside.  Opening that door just enough to get himself in and then letting it close behind him.  Letting me struggle with both doors while my hands were full.

Years ago something like that would have really bothered me.  Good thing for me I'm older and wiser these days.  I actually felt sorry for this old man.  If he can't show kindness towards a complete stranger, how is he to those he loves?  Does he love anyone?  Does anyone love him back?  And maybe that is the problem.  I don't lose sleep over it and after this post I'll probably never think about that old man again.  But in the here and now, I do wonder about the rudeness of people sometimes.

The story does get better though.  A man coming out of the bank, which is situated just inside the mall, saw what happened and came over to the old gentleman and said "Whoa buddy.  You have to hold a door open for a lady.  My dad taught me that and he's about your age.  You should be ashamed of yourself."  The old gentleman wouldn't even look at him and kept walking.  He did however find time to say, "Shut up and leave me alone."

I thanked the man, who I'm guessing was around my age and he smiled but shook his head and said "I get so embarrassed when I see a man treat a woman like that and unfortunately I see it happening more and more all the time.  The part I'm most embarrassed about is it is normally old men like that or guys my age."  And of course me being me, I asked the fine gentlemen if he would like me to go outside and then come back in so he could hold the doors open for me so we could do this right.  He laughed, told me to have a great day and I told him the same.

Not all men are like this of course.  It's like saying all women are drama queens and gossips.  Or all teenagers are useless and rude and every other thing I've heard our young youth of today called.  I am here to tell you I have never run into that with a teenager.  I have had many a door held open for me by wonderful teenagers.  People of all ages actually.  Gregg's father looks to be about the same age as the old gentleman I encountered on my way to the dry cleaners and there is no way I could ever see him doing that to anyone little own....let alone!!....a woman.  Gregg is very much the same.  Gregg is a middle aged man who, at our son's graduation, gave me his arm while we were walking up the stairs knowing I had heels on and to help me.  And our son Michael is also the same.  Michael is a teenager.  Who in the dead of winter will hold out his arm so his mother can hold on if we are leaving a building and it might be slippery out.

There are good people all around.  Polite and nice and helpful people all over the place.  So I'm not going to focus on one rude old man.

But if you are out?  If you see a person struggling?  You should help.  I don't care how old you are, what ethnic background you come from, what beliefs you have, what gender you are....you should help.  And it can start with something as simple as a door ok?  Ok.

Sidetracked Much

The weekend is over and I'm not going to lie.  It was freaking awesome.  And now I sit in my office on monday morning and everything is quiet and it's looking like it's going to be another nice day out today.  I will take nice.  Nice is good.

I have tried once again to upload the video of the Grand Opening winner and guess what?  I did manage to upload it.  But?  It cut off the last minute and some of the video.  So it gets to me counting to 52 and then......nothing.  It stops.  When I look at the video that's downloaded to my computer, it is 3 minutes and whatever but on Youtube it's only 2 minutes and 18 seconds or something like that.  So I erased the whole damn thing.  Oh the frustration!  And I'm talking HOURS of trying to figure this out people so I didn't give up without a fight.

The kicker is.....the video sucked in the worst of way.  I'm not lying here.  I showed my youngest daughter and she just stood there.  Then she finally said "Well your voice is nice on there mom, even if you do sound like you're mumbling a bit, but the lines blinking on the video is unbelievable and nothing is showing up.  It's all just a big blur."  So there you have it.  Even if I could get all of the video on, you can't make out what you're looking at.  Man I suck.  No more wine for me when doing videos.  Although it wasn't the wine, I just know it.

But I will be taking the Flip out this week in my travels so maybe I'll catch something interesting along the way.  Maybe.  I was driving by the military base the other day and there was a helicopter flying so low I thought it was going to touch the top of my truck.  Then it started dipping and diving in the field at the base and I kicked myself I didn't have my camera or Flip....which I always carry in the truck just for things like that.  The one day I don't bring them and there you go.  I'm telling you right now, it would have been cool.  Although I often wonder if I were to film something at the base, or take pictures, if the military police will come and make me erase it.  If they see me taking the pictures that is.  Hmmmm

One of these days I will take my Flip and when I'm walking on the massive trail at the base at 8:00am, I will let you see all our gorgeous soldiers as they are training.  They go for walks on the trail early in the morning while carrying those heavy backpacks on their backs and there is nothing finer, and I do mean nothing finer, then walking early in the morning and when you come to the pack of soldiers on the trail, you hear "Lady on the traaaaail!!"  Then as they all part and let you walk through you hear "maam" "maam" "maam".  And me?  Well of course I'm me and say with each spoken maam, "Oh well aren't you the sweetest."  "Why thank you."  "Well bless your hearts." "True gentleman all of you."

This only happened once because I haven't been back that early in the morning again.  I wouldn't go that early again because as much as I loved our soldiers being so polite and nice to a chubby older woman....I was a bit embarrassed.  But if I get over that sillyness and can some how figure out how to hide my Flip, yet still film those wonderful men....I'll be doing it.  If only to show you how proud of them I am.

Wow did I get sidetracked from what I was originally going to post.  I was going to post something I wrote about my dry cleaning adventure last week.  Well I guess I know what I'm posting tomorrow.  Maybe if I get sidetracked enough, I'll manage to get a weeks worth of posts up and ready.  Good grief.