Did me and the gang of girls learn a danged thang about vino last night at the tasting of Empire State vinewares at the Butler Mansion.
I think not.
And there was not much in the way of sustenance by the time Yours Truly meandered in with Michele and Siobhan, having just snacked at Europa which gets two enthusiastic hai-karate kicks.
The wino people had their usual tables set up at strategic corners and apparently were in their respective cups by the time we did arrive to meet up with Sparky and Annie.
Liane Hansen was speaking from nearly inside the fireplace and all I could make out through the several bodies was that she liked puzzles. Or The Puzzler. I could spy her in between people and didn't get a chance to say Hi or whatever.
But the vineyard cupsers were amusing.
One cherubically-faced girl talked smack about a man I had zero respect for at a nearby table as he'd used metal s-hooks to hang a heavy vinyl vineyard banner across an original nineteenth-century painting. Sparky, Siobhan and I went over to tell him how disturbing this was to us and he looked at us with psychotically glazed-over eyes to state that it was not bothering him and that the event was nearly over.
Realizing that this would be like attempting to rationally discuss a matter with a Grant Street crackhead, I wandered away.
So there was that guy.
Then there was another, who, the cherub told us, burnt a patch of his own chest hair off with a device he used (past tense, apparently) to purify the air around him of the stank of those around him.
We listened all rapt and shit and then wheeled around to have a look.
Siobhan noted that he had a wealth of hair left to burn.
We moved along then to the newish Stillwater to hear Heather and Fellas perform and she sang all songs in a foreign tongue. YT first thought it was a scatting episode but, no, it was Portuguese.
Some pesky men insisted we follow them along to another joint and we soundly rebuffed their feeble attempts at disarming our Perfect, maleless Fun.
My beloved mother, Fats, just called to inform that she has just received the lush bouquet I ordered for her so she would have it before the Day of Moms.

Love of Holidays.