How to Be Happy Despite an Extended Winter

March with snow on the ground, 17 degrees, wearing fleece robe over fleece clothing in the house, clutching cups of hot drinks, thinking of deceased folks etc. = misery, unless you must, no buts about it, take the car in for the fuel-pump recall, plus regular oil change and tire rotation -- "How long will this take?" "Hour and a  half, two hours" -- and decide that today the wait will be fun.

Realize via Google Maps that a liquor superstore known for wines is .3 miles from the car dealer, and toddle there on icy sidewalks and across strip-mall parking lots. Spend 45 minutes in two aisles each of a hundred linear feet of cabernets and red blends, like a library, organized by price, telling self "You can have only one," and choosing a staff-recommended Languedoc. On the way back, decide that a person who loved themselves would buy themselves lunch. At a hole-in-the-wall BBQ I have a fine pulled pork sandwich with pink applesauce and a Pepsi.

Upon return, the car service is finished. Realize the car now picks up like a swan when  in "eco" mode -- they fixed it! Drive my personal rocket ship to another store where before the holidays I bought a startlingly good random red wine, hoping they might have one bottle left, and miraculously they have restocked it and I buy 3 bottles. Cheerfully drive home, not hungry, with payload of wine thinking of happy and friendly occasions. The sun is out and it doesn't feel cold or windy now.

A Toast to the New Year

Reeve, my close friend who has 100 head of cattle, is usually very busy, but he took time out during the holidays and he truly does wish us all a very happy new year on this little blue dot of a planet.

Port in a Storm

I said to the doctor, “Did I do this to myself? Should I go back to never drinking, not even a beer a month, a glass of wine? Should I never eat meat? Give up dairy? Should I give up sex? Doesn’t that stir up hormones? Isn’t it bad for me?”

And the doctor answered, “It’s not just about longevity. It’s about quality of life. If you enjoy something, that is the best medicine. Do what makes you happy, and have fun. Don’t give up doing anything that a normal person would do.” (In short: "Live Life.")

So I ordered this case of port, a terrific extravagance; it is the first case of wine that I have ever bought. But it’s so good, will stay good for years, and I won’t drink it [all] myself. I’ll give bottles to friends, drink it with friends. And give bottles as a thank-you to the people who helped and encouraged me while I cried and was down, and to hosts who’ll invite me to parties and dinner. I’m going to have fun.

Wine Country

Pictured, my old schoolfriend Anthony from New York State, born in Brooklyn. Yeah, he's Italian. In fact he's a professional Italian, so wanted to visit Missouri wine country, about 30 or 40 miles northwest from the Divine homestead. Particularly Hermann, MO, because it's a German-settled town and his wife is of German descent. Germans settled there in the mid-1800s because its hills and view of the Missouri River reminded them of the scenery on the Rhine River. Immediately on the south-facing slopes of their hills they planted grapes. And this picture proves that wherever you have wines, you have Italians. He's holding up a blush wine. He also bought me a bottle of port -- he said, "this is the best domestic port I have ever tasted--" I figure I should listen to an Italian. Because he can't take it on a plane I will be shipping him bottles of port to Ithaca, New York. Missouri has 78 wineries.