Before I met the computer guy, I thought there were 2 kinds of wine, red and white. Now, there's really just One (and it's all we (and be we I mean me) want for Christmas, Midwest Auntie) but that's not really the point at all. The point is I can spill things. Have I told you this story before? If so, just skim the rest.
The computer guy and I were living in the Midwest in the house that used to be a parsonage next to the house that used to be a church, and we liked to have wine. And, we liked to have this wine in the living room in front of the TV every now and then.
I brought my glass of wine to the living room with its white walls and white ceilings and white carpet. It was a glass of Red Wine, perhaps a merlot, maybe even a Blackstone Merlot because before we discovered two buck chuck, there was Blackstone. For some reason that day, I wanted to sit on the floor. So, I sat on the floor with my glass of red wine. Red.
The glass started to fall.
I tried to catch it.
I almost caught it.
But, instead of catching it, I launched it up into the air.
It spun oh, so gracefully through the air sending a barely touched glass of red wine (red) onto the walls and carpet and ceiling.
I had spilled wine on the ceiling.
We cleaned it all up. Except for the ceiling.
Later, I married the computer guy, and we had both red and white wine at our wedding. I chose the white wine because of my history of spectacular spills and the fact that I would be wearing a white dress (white.)
I stuck with that white wine most of the day. It was a nice, fruity Sauvignon Blanc. But, then, I had one glass of red wine (red) near the end of the afternoon. I spilled it on my dress, the white one I wore on my wedding day.
This is the legacy that will stay with my children, I think, for a long time to come. This ability to spill things in a spectacular fashion. I think that Devin will be the one more afflicted with this legacy than Trevor. And, when they spill and smear milk and what-not and spaghetti and Froot Loops, I will just love them and then clean up their messes and remember the red wine on the ceiling.