inspired by champagne

Okay, not how you're thinking. But in a way, well, yes.

Steve got a recliner today, partly with some birthday money from his parents, and partly as a present from me for taking his PE test, and partly because we finally found one that has a head rest tall enough for him, yet is not a huge, billowy, awful, suicide-inducing sight, like most recliners. And to kick off the holiday weekend we went to get some champagne. When we came back to the house, Steve was happy to see that our Kince had not claimed his new chair. No, the Kince still sleeps in the ten-dollar yellow chair from Castaways. I love that chair. And that store.

Speaking of Castaways, I am drinking out of a classic (think black-and-white movie) hollow-stemmed champagne saucer that I bought last time I was there, for thirty-five cents. Kind of like this:



I have no idea whose it was, unlike the vintage suitcases I bought there once, which, from the luggage tags, I found out had belonged to Lahoma Roaten, the mother of one of my dad's childhood friends. Castaways is full of small-town history like that.

Anyway, back to what I really meant to write about. Champagne, the very fact of it, the nature of it, the perfectness of it, inspires the way I see life. I don't even drink it that often, and I'm not saying my life inspiration is alcohol; it's not the alcohol in it (as I type that I can hear my friend Will saying, "That's what they all say.") but really, it's the, I don't know, the effervescent luxury of it, the idea of it, the happiness of it. It's always the drink of celebrations. Life is a luxury and a celebration, when you think about it. A sumptuous affair of moons and stars and music and sunsets and springs and winters, and glowy green grasses and roses with soft petals that feel good against your face. And champagne.

Champagne is one of the many things that makes me know that life is beautiful. Not because I use it as an escape or something, just a treat that is glamorous and lovely. It just sparkles in an un-everyday sort of way, like a chandelier, or a star, or a diamond ring, or a drop of water on a spider web.