The Fat-Blasting Dance Mix DVD just gave me 50 whole minutes to remember why I exercise in the privacy of my own home. That wasn’t pretty.
Driving down a steep, windy road:
Erin and Dan: “Weeeeeeeee!”
Dan: “It’s like a roller coaster!”
Colin: “Well, yeah. Except we’re in a 4-person car. And there’s a steering wheel.”
Ya got me, Colin.
This morning I walked down to the Avenue to buy a birthday present for a dear friend. I just happened to find a little something for myself as well. Seemed only fair, right?
I knew I moved to the right neighborhood the night I verified that my house is within stumbling, errrr, walking distance from the local wine bar.
Last night, my husband Dan told me that if I have to borrow something twice, then I should probably just buy it. Now he was talking about wine buckets at the time, but I’m fairly certain I can use this directive to my advantage for many other future purchases.
Many. Other. Future. Purchases.
So you’ve never heard of a foxy pocket, eh? Much less a foxy wine pocket? Well, here’s the deal. Grandma used to give us kids cash at Christmas and other holidays, telling us it was for our “foxy pockets.” She instructed us to do whatever we wanted with the money and that we didn’t have to tell anyone about it (especially our parents).
I thought we were the only ones who used that term (and that Grandma was a little crazy) until I, in a fit of nostalgia, was searching the web for any references of foxy pockets. Then I found a relevant article over at Money Saving Jewels: “Every woman should have a few bucks, that her husband doesn’t know about, to do with as she pleases.”
BINGO. Turns out Grandma wasn’t crazy and was, in fact, genius. GENIUS.
Here is my actual foxy pocket. Like, I really have that in my purse. (Hold your tongue and say that.) Except I spent the cash eons ago.
So where does the wine fit in? Well, I feel the same way about wine as I do about cash. I should indeed have a few bottles of wine around at any given time to do with as I please. (Mr. Foxy knows all of this, but he pretends to not see me drinking. Or hoarding cash.) Also, I tend to favor dresses that have pockets in them. Because pockets. I recently discovered at a wedding that these pockets do a very effective job of holding leftover wine bottles that the hosts may (or may not) be handing out at the end of the reception. So I christened them “wine pockets.”
Turns out foxy pockets and wine pockets are two of my favorite things. Thus, the Foxy Wine Pocket was born. Doesn’t it have a nice ring to it?
I don’t know—maybe I just had too much wine that night.
Last night we celebrated Earth Hour by turning out all of the lights and going to bed. I’m sure it had nothing to do with the 3 bottles of wine we drank with our friend Linda earlier that afternoon. Nothing at all…