"There's no such thing as 'good wine'. If you think it's good, then it IS good." she said. "What???" I replied. "Just tell me what I should buy--what would be good. I don't know these people--what their tastes are. I know...." I paused. What exactly did I know?
Don loved his grandsons, owned his own business, owned a scooter -- one of those two wheeled dealies that were supposed to revolutionize travel but really haven't lived up to their hype -- Kate drank wine. They had grown kids, a second marriage and a hot tub.
But here I was in a grocery store in Lincoln, Nebraska talking to the florist-cum-wine somalier asking her for direction as I faced the store's meager - but still too daunting -wine selection.
She looked at me and sighed. "Honey, how much do you want to spend?"
"How many people are you buying for?"
"Two" I breathed deeply. This was getting easier. I could do this. My confidence rose and then she stumped me with "Foreign or Domestic?"
"I don't know" I wailed once again thrown into the depths of overwhelmed-ness (is that even a word?)
"Please," I was on the verge of begging for direction, "just tell me what you like."
"Honey, I like cheap and sweet - $4.99 for a bottle of Beringer Zinfandel is my style."
Shit, I thought, I picked up a bottle with a cool label. Shiraz from Austrailia. Hmmmm... Austrailia is cool, but is their wine any good?
At least, I thought, the label would look good on their shelf. That was my mode of operendis I decided. "There's no such thing as good wine - If you like the label, buy it."