Only Ween could possibly capture the loco-ality of my harvest (in)sanity this chilly, fine October evening. One ton of Chardonnay grapes from the Bryan Vineyard in Quincy sit on the tarmac of The Blending Room awaiting the green light from our newest piece of tin.
Meet our mutilator/destemmer: harvest emergency purchase: new best friend:
Maude Elle Tee
And her parts. Henry Ford would be proud. (Except she’s Italian.)
It’s always a love~hate relationship in the wine industry. If you can find romance in that than you belong right here with me. Just listen to this song and you might understand the cognitive dissonance of THIS harvest moment and its wine~music inspiration. So soothing are the rhythms, yet so queer are the lyrics. Thanks Ween for making my evening more bearable.
Mutilated lips give a kiss on the wrist of the worm-like tips of tentacles expanding in my mind, I’m fine accepting only fresh WINE you can get another drop of this yes yeah you wish.
Mutilated Lips off The Mollusk by Ween
Cheers,
Sassy Frassy Lassie WeenGirl
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