On Sunday night, I sent my husband to the store for two things: dinner rolls (to go with the lemon cream chicken pasta I was making) and red wine, preferably shiraz. That's it. Two things.
He came back with a bag of kaiser buns instead of rolls, and while he did buy a great bottle of shiraz, he also bought a bottle of white wine. But not normal white wine. Oh no.
He bought magnolia wine. This was not the brand, this was the actual type of wine.
I don't hate white wine. Not by any means. But this was not wine. It was like a cheap grape juice that had been bottled for way too long. When I asked what in the world motivated this purchase, he told me he bought it because it was a local wine and it was cheap. We are by no means fancy wine people. I love a good bottle of wine that's only a few bucks. But magnolia wine doesn't fall in this category. It's in a category all by itself. The category of wine that I will never drink again.
But the story gets better. Monday night J left for a fishing trip with a buddy of his. I told him to take the wine and drink it on the trip and to never bring it back. I wanted nothing to do with this wine. When I got home from work Tuesday evening, the bottle was sitting again on our table. But this time filled with daisies. While on his trip, he picked daisies for me. And to bring them home, he put them in the bottle. I guess I'd allow the magnolia to come back into our home, but only in exchange for some flowers.
I have nothing to complain about. He may not be great at choosing wine. But he does pick me flowers. That makes up for the magnolia! But we still need to work on distinguishing dinner rolls from sandwich rolls.
Oh....and notice the pink counter tops that I first wrote about here. I told you they were hideous!