When I started this blog, I planned on writing about knitting. Hence the name: Knitting in Flashes. I’m expanding my writing to include not only knitting, decluttering, redecorating, sewing, and other crafting delights, but the rest of my life, which I thought was going to end last night.
Mr. Aitch and I have friends. We have friends that drink wine. We have friends that occasionally give us wine.
Last night we tried one of the wines we recently received. It’s made by some hippies in southwestern Pennsylvania.
Mr. Aitch poured generous glasses for both of us.
The bouquet was flowery with hints of raspberries and honey. It also had touches of “fragrant” tea and raisins. Whatever. I like raspberries and honey. I drink tea. It was ok. Sweet but ok. For the first few sips.
I was enjoying our lovely dinner of roasted chicken, mashed potatoes,and corn and sipping the wine when all of a sudden I grabbed my chest to pull out the burning arrow that I was sure pierced my bosom and set me on fire.
My friends, this was not your everyday heartburn. This was heart inferno.
Mr. Aitch, the ever attentive husband that he is, noticed my extreme discomfort and rushed to get me some strong antacids. Fifteen minutes later the flames were extinguished and I knew I would live.
I should have known that when Mr. Aitch took one sip and wanted to give me the rest of his glass, that something was wrong. One sip for Mr. Aitch was one sip too many.