18 kinds of cold

I don't know the final degree reading we'll bottom out with today, but it's cold enough for this Alabama native to be thankfully indoor, fleece socks instantly on feet. Today I met up with my old manager, CC, to check out the wine tasting at Vidalia. I think I might have liked the restaurant more had I been expecting full-on dinner, but I'll stil say it was pretty nice. I ran into CH at the tasting, which was an unexpected surprise.

CC and I ordered a bottle of chenin blanc, which was new to me. I really liked it... highly recommend it. Very subtle, but still really good. Think I may have found a new fave white. It was great to catch up though, having not seen her since pre-Christmas. One of the topics we ended up in a round about way discussing was the whole genre of 29 going on 30 men. What is the deal there? Anyone care to share some sort of insight into that? Ironically, a couple days ago I ended up finally seeing The Last Kiss -- which was but of course focused on the exact same topic. I thought 40 was the big age that triggered the mid-life crisis. With the move to people staying single longer in the city, has 30 become the new 40? I remain adamant though that no guy gets a straight up get out of jail card upon reaching that pinnacle -- no carte blanche. I just don't get it. Last time I checked, guys were still able to have children at that age, so really what's all the fuss?

I did manage to scurry in my front door in time to see Grey's Anatomy, the only show these days I actually really follow. I missed the beginning 15 minutes and still managed to be enthralled enough to find myself crying at the end of it. How?? Have I become that person who can't watch some certain show (um, Grey's) with any other human being because I'll end up inevitably at some point welling up and fighting back tears? Argh. But on the flip-side, I'm a big believer that crying is cathartic. I'd much rather be shedding tears over someone else's catastrophe than over my own issues. Not to say I don't have my own... but thankfully Grey's has been my cleansing ritual as of late.

And now, with the cold knocking on my door, my bed is calling my name. I'm looking forward to my weekend... lots to do on the horizon. But somehow, I just know that come Sunday evening, I'm going to be wishing I had another weekend all over again. Then again, the art of sitting still is something I've yet to master.