Wine needs to breathe just like we do! Okay, just like some of us need to, anyway.

Sylvia lit a cigarette as she walked away from the now burning trash bin and toward the street. 'Well that was five minutes of my life I'll never get back,' she thought.

When asked about the incident later, she simply pulled down a bottle of red wine from her rack and explained, "Well, Craigy-Bear, I guess I'm just not a yoga person."

She thought she could hear her nephew smack his own forehead over the phone, but couldn't be sure. He did sound rather exasperated, though. "Those things were a gift, Aunt Sylvia. I bought you that yoga stuff so that you might learn to relax. You've been so keyed up lately for whatever reason and..."

"Did you know your Uncle Rod is thinking about selling the house?" she said. She placed a wine glass onto the no-spill grate of her Vinturi Tower and opened the bottle. "He hasn't even said a word to me about it! Can you believe that?"

"How would I know that? I've barely said word one to him since..." Craig paused. "Wait a second. Are you trying to change the subject, or is this why you've been acting so weird lately? I'm serious, I'm starting to worry about you."

"Craig, I'm fine. And honestly, who can relax with all that 'Lotus' this and 'Downward Dolphin' that those people do. And those breathing techniques? Ridiculous."

"It's Downward Dog, Sylvia, and it's supposed to help you find harmony and balance."

Sylvia poured the wine through the Vinturi red wine aerator atop the tower and let it fill her glass. "The only harmony I've ever found through 'breathing' has been after enjoying a glass of Cabernet once it's opened up a little. I tell you, I couldn't stand being there, and I used to be a bit of a hippy in my younger days."

"So you threw the mat, straps, and shoes in a park trash can and torched it."

Sylvia thought for a moment and took a sip of her wine, letting the now enhanced flavors and smoother finish roll over her tongue before swallowing and answering, "Fine. I may have overreacted some."

"That's it," he declared. "I'm calling Mom."

Sylvia nearly spit her next gulp of wine all over her kitchen counter. "Don't. You. Dare."

Back to top