Grape Expectations

“I love grapes,” I said sitting at the breakfast table. 

“Hmm,” Mr. Wonderful said sipping his morning espresso.

“Tomorrow we’re having fresh grapes for breakfast.” 

“Why tomorrow?” 

“They need one more day on the vine.”

“What’ll we eat for breakfast today?”

“… I have no idea.”

Ah, July. That glorious time of the year Charles Dickens wrote about in his novel, A Tale of Two Cities: It was the best of times, it was the worst of times, it was the age of wisdom, it was the age of… grapes. 

I’m not going to delve into the whole David Copperfield saga of how my grapes came to be. But I will say that after planting the grape canes last year, cutting them back last fall and watching them grow like gangbusters this spring, the end was now near and I had high hopes of how delicious these grapes would be. Yes, I had Great Expectations. 

It is well known that I love grapes. In fact I wrote a whole book about my evolving affection for vino, Evolution of a Wine Drinker. What is less well known is that I am fond of many grape products, from red wine, to white wine, sparkling wine, champagne, brandy— But I digress. 

Let it be known that I am not a wine snob. Oh, no! my Vitis affection goes beyond the fruit’s liquid and tasty libations and extends to its edible form of table grapes. After planting a couple vines of table grapes in the old back 40, the fruits had grown so much they looked like pearls, rubies or the plastic fruit bunches hanging from a cheesy Italian restaurant in New Jersey. The vines have taken over the backyard in lush, leafy ropes making an oasis of my formerly Bleak House! 

The only problem with the fruits of my labor was that the grapes weren’t ready yet. Nope, they needed one more day under the sun, on the vine, in the garden patch duking it out with the tomatoes. Not being able to eat them today was going to be difficult for Mr. Wonderful and me. Actually it would be Hard Times: For These Times.

Oh! But tomorrow! How grand it will be to eat grapes from my own vines for breakfast! Receiving the gifts from the vine will be like Christmas day! Like A Christmas Carol!

Bless my Dickens! What Great Expectations!

A Tale of Three Kitchens

“I found the kitchen I want!” I said pulling Mr. Wonderful in from the driveway after work.

“That’s what I wanted to hear,” he said, his lips curling into a smile. 

“Let me show you.”

“That’s exactly what I wanted to hear.”

“I poured you a glass of wine.”

“That’s precisely what I wanted to hear,” he said laughing.

Inside I handed him a full glass and pointed to three different magazine clippings spread out on the table.

“I like these three,” I said.

“Three kitchens?  That’s not what I wanted to hear,” he said emptying his wineglass and promptly left the room.

With the help of my thick file of kitchen picture ideas I had found the kitchen I wanted.  Or to be more accurate I should say, I found the three kitchens I wanted. 

1) White Kitchen:  I loved this kitchen’s clean lines, marble and the feeling of spaciousness that white imbibes a space with.  Of course being a mustard aficionado I’d probably have the white cabinets stained with yellow after the first meal of homemade hamburgers.

2) Yellow Kitchen: I loved this kitchen’s warmth and how well red and wood went with it.  I had a lot of red and wooden kitchen items that I could still use in this kitchen.  Plus the yellow walls would hide any errant mustard stains.

3) Blue Kitchen: I was shocked to find this blue kitchen among my favorite clippings especially after all the fuss I had made about how our old kitchen never should have been painted blue in the first place because blue belonged in bathroom, a pool or a sewer.  But this clipping convinced me it was just the ugly faded blue-green paint color in our old kitchen that I disliked.  I loved this clipping’s blue and the mixture of existing furniture pieces that it employed as opposed to all new, uniform-looking cabinets.  This kitchen had charm, order and personality.  It clearly belonged to a real person who had history.

Which meant, I loved particular aspects about each kitchen.  Perhaps I could combine the white kitchen’s island with the yellow kitchen’s large painting and wood countertops with the blue kitchen’s blue cabinets.  It could look something like this mash-up photo:

  

Yes!  That was the solution!  Take the best aspects of each one!  I found Mr. Wonderful in the living room engrossed in reading a new comic book. 

“Honey, I got it!  Our kitchen can combine all three.  What do you think?” I said flashing him the mash-up photo.

“Hmm,” he mumbled not looking up from his book.

Which is exactly what I didn’t want to hear.