January thaw

   Nodding off in front of my computer, after a satisfactory lunch with a high school friend, I perused my archives for something to amuse my devoted followers and came across the following.
Santé et bon appétit

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(First published in January 2015)
Bonjour cher,
   Here I sit, having toasted some small homemade pretzels and brewed a pot of Mystery Tea: while working, had thrown a small baggie of various teas in a satchel, to have on break. Found them after retirement.
   Temperatures here are mild for this time of year, in this zone. Woke to *Anthem of the Hoover Queen:* somewhere above me, one of my neighbors persists in running vacuum at least once or twice a week. Thankfully, this does not commence until after 8AM, while the pacing/clomping about, ensues anytime after 0500 hours. Fortunately, am not a light sleeper; never would have survived childhood in a large family if I were.
   Last I heard from you, a passel of college students lived downstairs: you commented on savory but unfamiliar cooking aromas. Do they play much music? As long as it is melodic and not too loud, it doesn't bother me.
   Today's mail brought two beautiful postcards from a penpal in Argentina, as well as a couple letters with Carolina postmarks. All that mail shall brighten this overcast day. Had some snow accumulation earlier; looked like a feather pillow had been torn open.
   Attended auditions last night and read quite well. Have not been active in theater for decades. Now waiting for call from director. One of the monologues he had me read was about getting fitted for a new bra - a subject to which I can definitely relate. The other was about what a bother purses are. I really think my chances are pretty good.
   Guess after supper, will go visit Man Upstairs. One of my neighbors asked why I go up there so often. Told her, he's good company and makes me laugh. Then she wanted to know, "Well if all you want is company, why not get a dog?" Are you kidding me? Pet deposit is three hundred dollars and ya gotta clean up after them; Man Upstairs is house broken and free.
   It's a chilly Friday night here in Tecumseh, Michigan, as we head into the fourth weekend of 2015. It has been a reasonably productive and most enjoyable week, particularly in the Bingo department: Monday at senior center, made back my fifty cents; Wednesday at the library, netted four books; and last night, here at the apartment complex, made a grand haul - head of cabbage, bag of carrots, frozen dinner, tube of blueberry refrigerator biscuits, dish soap and small box of candy!
   My errands for this twenty-third day of January included lunch at senior center and purchase of six pounds boneless beef short ribs. Got home, put three pounds in freezer, other three in deep pot, topped with water, bit of salt, pepper, thyme and turned on burner. Rinsed two cups Basmati rice, adding to meat. Friend called, we went to dinner  and I got back in time for evening card game.
   Perusing collections of stories I had written, came across one I hope you will find amusing.

***

   After fifteen or sixteen years, I had begun to suspect maybe I had been too long in Texas, but the time came when something happened to confirm my suspicion as certainty. I was, as Poirot says, "Exercising zee little gray cells" by working a crossword puzzle, when I encountered the clue *Red Bordeaux.* This much information was available to me: _ _ A_E_. All that came to mind was, "Who is Red Bordeaux, and what team does he play for?" Obviously, I had been dazed by Friday night lights.
   Now I will have to join Oenophiles Anonymous, because the other wine lovers won't want to acknowledge me in public. What's next? Will I embarrass myself by requesting a sommelier to bring a bottle of Chateau Ripple, or a glass of vintage Boone's Farm? Don't get me wrong, I'm no snob - I love Boone's Farm but come ON! Really, I did one of those V-8 forehead slaps when I finally deduced the word I'd been seeking was "claret." Which reminds me, did you ever see that Bellagio commercial with the LL jumping out of the name, running after the grape, and stomping it?
   Am reminded of world history professor who regaled us with following anecdote; While traveling, he had stopped at a convenience store for something to eat. Going through the beverage selections, he encountered his first bottle of Ripple and asked clerk what it was, receiving this reply, "Ripple, my good man, is a fine 89-cent wine." [This was the 1960s.]
   Anyway, guess I should be thankful not to have misread Bordeaux as Boudreaux, but it is small comfort. I recalled an episode of Murphy Brown in which a truckload of potatoes was dumped on Veep's lawn, after Dan Quayle had put an "e" on the end of singular form of potato, and wondered if anybody would leave a bottle of wine on my porch. Because, that would be okay, you know.