28 June 2008

The Case of the Missing Bottle

Contrary to popular opinion, I am NOT the serious drinker in this family. THAT honor goes to my sister-in-law who is so much louder, obnoxious and boisterous than I am, when she's drinking, that we decided a long time ago...she and my little brother ever split up, his ass is out of here. We're keeping her.

I also have a sister who got a divorce a couple of months ago, after 30 years of marriage. She is thoroughly enjoying her new-found freedom and spends a lot of time in learning situations...wine tastings, cooking classes, even a culinary weekend in Atlanta a couple of weeks ago. She is taking her drinking seriously...a little over the top in my mind, but then...that's my mind. Minding its own business. And having a hell of a lot more fun than SHE is! I mean...who gets too serious to have "peel the labels off the bottle" contests? She's just afraid I'll kick her ass when the label strips go flying into the ceiling fan.

Then there's The Big Kid, who has bar tended her way through college, and The Niece (five weeks younger) who runs a chain of restaurants in this end of the state. They are Official Drinkers, with a healthy dose of paranoid-ism thrown in so they are Official Sit-At-Home-Drinkers. Or Drinkers With Designated Drivers because they've seen the consequences. Which works for the mama who does NOT want to hear the phone ring at three o'clock in the morning to hear a recorded message saying, "This is the Limestone-Athens Correctional Facility, with a collect call." (That wasn't at this house. Thank you, God.)

There seems to be a family trend here.

Which brings us to the Missing Bottle, and the Short List.

My in-law's took a trip a month or so ago and brought me back a bottle of wine from a vineyard tour. Now, we open a bottle of wine five days a week in this house, but we don't drink wine. It goes with our food. And this was a white, so I stuck it in the door of the refrigerator for the next appropriate meal...by choice, we are red wine drinkers 90% of the time.

The bottle is gone.

We didn't drink it, and I'm sure about that. I didn't put it somewhere else, because...well, there's no where else to put it except the little refrigerator in the bedroom and it's not in there. I checked. (Yes, City Girl, there's a refrigerator in the kitchen. It's that bedroom thing, again.) So, because this is the country and we don't lock the doors, and all my family is within a five-mile range and the parties at the farm can be spontaneous, it just makes sense that someone needed a beverage and they took the wine. Which is fine; that's why the doors are unlocked and everyone knows where everything is. Have at it. I'll get yours if I need it.

Except the short list? Of people who would have taken that wine? They say they didn't do it...they are all ADAMANT that they didn't do it. In fact, The Big Kid text-ed The Niece and said, "Hey! I didn't know there was free wine at Mom's house!"

So now we're all pointing fingers at each other's drunken asses...each one of us is sure one of the others drank it and forgot. Which happens. Except, this is the country. City Girl and I have a friend who travels, and twice since Christmas he's stopped by here on his way home from the airport, come in and helped himself to a road beer or two. We live that way. So, like, Dwight Yoakum was in town recording and got thirsty? Donald Trump was at the local library and needed a fix on his way to the airport? What gives?

But this bottle? It wasn't my $2.99 chardonnay from the drug store, that I drink after I've had too much beer down at the farm. It was a "grown-up" bottle, and I'm getting curious...did someone take the wine, assuming it was my drugstore-fare...and not know the difference? I mean, I REALLY want to know...did that bottle of wine end up in a plastic cup, chasing a $6.99 liter, and one of these know-it-alls DIDN'T KNOW IT?

Maybe I ought to put the door knob back on the front door. If I can find the screws.

(I have a picture. Of the front door that really doesn't have a door knob because I painted it a while back and put the screws in a little plastic dish. And one of the kids needed the plastic dish to feed an animal so...she dumped out my screws. Somewhere. But Blogger doesn't think I need a picture.)

2 comments:

Helen said...

Honey, I have to tell you that Dwight Yoakam doesn't drink - scratch him off your list. It must have been Trump.

You have bigger problems. Donald Trump has been in your bedroom.

City Girl said...

I'd take a look at the chicken-theiving juvenile delinquents next door if I were you. They probably know where everything is in your house. They might even know where the front door knob screws are hiding....