I know a good slice of pizza or a quality piece of chocolate when I taste it. I have a sensitive palate for water, turning my nose up at all sorts of bottled and tap without batting an eye. My taste buds can differentiate between a delicious piece of cheesecake or something whipped together by the infamous Sara Lee. I hate freezer burn and will turn away a lavish ice cream sundae if said ice cream is suspected of the burn. Pink chicken makes me nauseous, shiny deli roast beef makes me cry, mayonnaise is my Darth Vader. When it comes to steak I am all about fillet mignon. But we all have our blind spots. Wine is mine.
Don’t misunderstand, I like wine. I like it a lot. I like white wine. I like fruity, white wine and I like not so fruity white wine. I’m not a big red wine drinker, but will knock some back in a pinch. I just don’t quite understand the wine experience. I don’t really care if the grapes were grown in Spain, France, Washington, California, or on Uncle Pete’s farm in Topeka. I can’t taste accents of pear, apple or boysenberry in my wine. I can’t tell if my wine tastes earthy, buttery, dry or wet. I guess I haven’t built my palate yet. (Don’t worry that was an accidental rhyme and will not be followed by some sort of Seusslike monologue-I do love the good Dr. Seuss though, so maybe next time).
The problem of course is that wine is one of those things that as an adult you should know a thing or two about. Well, okay, I know a thing or two. I know that Mad Dog 20/20, despite its extensive flavor selection and undying popularity in 11th grade, is not really a fine wine. Apparently it’s not a wine at all. I know that the Riunite that my Ohio Aunties used to drink out of a jug, well not really out of the jug-they poured it into glasses-is not a great hostess gift in 49 of the 50 states. I know that if you find a bottle of wine in a doorway in your childhood apartment building, even if the cap is still on and the paper bag is still in nice condition, it’s probably not made from the world’s highest quality fruit. And, for some reason, I know that in 2003 the Merlot grape crops were particularly good, but I have no idea why I know that, or in what region that was true, or if someone at the wine shop was just pulling my leg. Those people in the wine community do have quite a sense of humor.
All is not hopeless though. I have a handful of friends who know as much about wine as I know about Hanna Barbera characters. (Wait dear reader, you didn’t know this about me? Well trust me; from Captain Caveman to Atom Ant to Squiddly Diddly, I’m all over that HB trivia). So from my friends I have learned some basics. Like don’t leave your wine bottle open (even with a cork or bottle stopper) in your fridge for a lengthy amount of time. What you consider a lengthy amount of time is of course, subjective. For instance for me four weeks is a long time to have a bottle of wine in the fridge, to my friend Micki four days is a sin. And apparently you shouldn’t save any red at all. An open bottle of red must be finished that very evening, even if it means Micki and Eddy are at your house until THREE AY EM finishing off the bottle! (Wait this advice is becoming suspect…hmm). From Susan I know that some wine needs to breathe, whatever that means. And she also has taught me that most people like Syrah and though expensive, it’s usually a sure thing. Or did she say most people don’t like Syrah? Or did she say most people don’t like Sarah, her old high school cheerleading rival? Yeah maybe I am confusing wine with whine, never mind that advice. From my guy friends in college (who we affectionately nicknamed “The Slobs”) I learned that the much beloved White Zinfandel has certain aphrodisiac powers that are quite strong, yet short lasting, leaving even the prettiest of girls looking disheveled and, frankly, ashamed as they come out of their wine coma, nothing between them and The Slobs but an empty gallon of White Zin. Okay perhaps, The Slobs are not in the same category as Susan and Micki. Still good advice is good advice.
Recently I added to my list of advisers my coworker Gail. Now a fourth-sixth grade teacher, Gail used to own a wine shop for seven years. She’s somewhat of a connoisseur. She has written articles for wine magazines, knows the taste and temperature distinction in grapes in the California wine country and knows the difference between Yellow Tail and well something fancier than Yellow Tail. (yes, my not-so-wine-savvy-friends there is something fancier than Australia’s finest out there). I had to call Gail the other day as I was heading into the wine shop (a.k.a the wine aisle at Albertson’s) to buy a bottle to bring to Micki’s for dinner. This is risky, bringing a bottle of wine to someone’s house, especially someone who knows something about wine. Gail was helpful, though a bit rude as she put me on hold so she could talk to her pet squirrel about his dinner; so as she was asking her squirrel questions like do you prefer something oaky or fruity, I was looking at the cute labels on wine bottles. I guess you could say I was distracted as there are so many choices out there. Maybe I stopped listening to Gail. I settled on Cupcake Chardonnay (sassy label) and some bottle of red with a super cute kangaroo on it. I am not at liberty to say the brand as Gail might be reading this blog and could choose to throw her hands up and never advise me again. Let’s just say that the kangaroo is the logo for a certain mass-marketed super sweet Australian brand. It’s like the Hershey’s of chocolate or the Domino’s of pizza. It was a bad choice, as they don’t even grow grapes* in Australia, but dang, it said it was imported!
At this point you might be asking, What does this blog really mean? Well I have no idea. You can take it to mean that I am not so cultured when it comes to wine, or you can take it to mean that I am very cultured when it comes to L’Eau (French for water), cheesecake and pizza. But I think you should take it to mean that you can show up at my door with either Kung Fu Girl Riesling or Sauvignon Blanc and either way I’ll let you in, just be sure to leave the shiny roast beef at home.
Sunday, October 17, 2010
Sunday, October 3, 2010
The Shaky Voice
First of all let me start this blog with a good old fashioned apology! I have been so wrapped up in all that is September (back to school for me, for Madison and Max and now for Mike, too) that I only managed to squeak out one blog in the past month! I love blogging, so it pained me not to be here typing away. I have always enjoyed writing--perhaps even more than I enjoy talking. Well, that might be a stretch; after all I do love to gab, to converse, to shoot the breeze. Most people know this about me, so it usually come as a surprise when I tell them my number one fear--public speaking.
Okay, perhaps it's my number 15 fear, the first fourteen would have to do with gruesome death or end-of-the-world scenarios, you know, nothing you want to read about here. Let's save that for the big wigs like Stephen King and the Brothers Grimm. Public speaking really plagues me, yet, it is something I long to be good at. I can visualize myself standing in front of a crowd of thousands telling stories off the top of my head-no index cards or loose leaf paper, strutting naturally across the stage, using big words and knowing what they actually mean. I look out at the crowd and they hang on my every word. I open the lecture to questions and I answer everything with an intelligent, clear and thoughtful response. That's the fantasy. Let's just say I'm not there yet.
We all have our fears, but let's be honest, some fears are easier to avoid than others. Let's say you are afraid of sharks, well maybe you stay out of the the Great Barrier Reef. If it's dark you fear, sleep with a night light. Or let's say it's heights that make your stomach turn, then you choose not to scale the Eiffel Tower. But there are some things you just can't avoid, if you fear spiders, strangers or Starbucks, they're every where and you're kinda screwed. The same can be said for public speaking. Though I am not expected to give a speech on a daily basis there are certain times each school year when I am required to speak to a crowd and sound knowledgeable, while I'm at it.
Okay, at this point you might suggest that I am doing a form of public speaking every day in front of my students, but to me that feels different. I can't explain why, but I am totally comfortable talking to children in large or small groups. In my experience they make a less intimidating audience, though I am sure there are people that would argue the opposite. Like I said, as a teacher, there are occasions when I must give a parent education night or a presentation to fellow staff members. In recent years I have been told by coworkers that they can't even tell that I am nervous. That's because I have learned to cover some of my more obvious flaws.
Different people react to fear in different ways. When I am nervous I speak loudly and my voice quivers.I get very cold and physically shaky. I always take an extra sweatshirt with me when I am flying across the country (yep, I also have a fear of flying-ready to sign me up for therapy yet?) because I know I am going to be freezing for the whole flight. The cold is sometimes accompanied by sweat, which is in my opinion ridiculous, but it happens. The worst part for me, the part that is horribly embarrassing is the physical shaking. When I was in fifth grade I did a huge research project on Betsy Ross. I really got into the role, had a costume, a very well-written report and was excited to present to my class. I could not tell you a single thing that was in that report, but I can tell you that I quivered so much that the only thing my classmates could hear was the sound of shaking paper. If you think I am exaggerating, think again. I saw my fifth grade teacher about ten years ago and she said "Remember that time you did the report on Betsy Ross and you stood there shaking like a leaf, I felt so bad for you!" Remember it? I've repeated it over and over again through they years! In high school I gave speeches during election time to run for class office. I always won, just going to show you that teenagers can be some of the most sympathetic people on earth. Even in college when I was presenting a project on how to make a Japanese kite out of paper, I shook so hard that my friends in my class couldn't make eye contact with me for a week! So now when I give a presentation I do any thing I possibly can to avoid holding things. I memorize what I will say, I call on assistants to help with visuals and I involve my audience whenever possible! It's a clever technique that works much of the time, but not always.
If those things aren't bad enough, occasionally, instead of breaking into a nervous sweat, I get the giggles. And by giggles I mean it starts with a small snicker and ends with an inappropriate and uncontrollable cacophony of laughter. This can also be traced back to childhood. One time in a Hanukkah play the boy speaking before me accidentally said "All the pee-pee" instead of "All the people" I laughed so hard that I thought I was going to pee-pee myself all over the stage. I couldn't recover and in my mind the play was ruined. In seventh grade I was selected to read a Christmas poem with my friends Jessica and Erika, the auditorium was full of parents, grandparents, teachers and students. I managed to get the giggles somehow and the three of us never got through our poem. They say laughter is contagious which was very unfortunate for Jessica and Erika. We were pulled off stage by a very angry teacher. If only she knew I wasn't being disrespectful, just nervous. I've even gotten the giggles at a funeral. Maybe two funerals. It's not a good thing to have happen.
Like I said in the first paragraph September is always a busy month. This month I had to do both a parent night and a presentation for the school board. I have been doing the September parent night in some form for so long that I almost wasn't nervous, but about fifteen minutes before we started I actually began thinking, "I'm not nervous, that's so weird. It's so crazy that I'm not cold, or shaky, or giggly. I think I might be over my fear. After all my coworkers say I always look confident." Umm yeah, you can imagine how I talked myself from calm to frantic in under fifteen minutes. It wasn't my best night. This past Wednesday was the presentation for the school board members. For some reason I gave a presentation that required me to use some hands-on materials. One was very small and I had to hold it up for the board members to see. They probably couldn't see it anyway as my hand was shaking too hard to make out what I was holding.
I tell my students that the more you practice something the better you become. We've all said that to our children because 99% of the time it's true. (One percent of the time you might practice and practice something, like let's say the clarinet and still your band teacher gently suggests that you find a different hobby-I know, I know, t-h-e-r-a-p-y). So yes, I know to be a better speaker I need to get up there in front of the crowds more often. If I was really ambitious, I'd look for public speaking opportunities. But, I'm just not there yet. For now, if I am going to get up on stage to sweat, giggle and shake, I'd like to do it in a dance club in Paris after a rewarding day of scaling the Eiffel Tower.
Okay, perhaps it's my number 15 fear, the first fourteen would have to do with gruesome death or end-of-the-world scenarios, you know, nothing you want to read about here. Let's save that for the big wigs like Stephen King and the Brothers Grimm. Public speaking really plagues me, yet, it is something I long to be good at. I can visualize myself standing in front of a crowd of thousands telling stories off the top of my head-no index cards or loose leaf paper, strutting naturally across the stage, using big words and knowing what they actually mean. I look out at the crowd and they hang on my every word. I open the lecture to questions and I answer everything with an intelligent, clear and thoughtful response. That's the fantasy. Let's just say I'm not there yet.
We all have our fears, but let's be honest, some fears are easier to avoid than others. Let's say you are afraid of sharks, well maybe you stay out of the the Great Barrier Reef. If it's dark you fear, sleep with a night light. Or let's say it's heights that make your stomach turn, then you choose not to scale the Eiffel Tower. But there are some things you just can't avoid, if you fear spiders, strangers or Starbucks, they're every where and you're kinda screwed. The same can be said for public speaking. Though I am not expected to give a speech on a daily basis there are certain times each school year when I am required to speak to a crowd and sound knowledgeable, while I'm at it.
Okay, at this point you might suggest that I am doing a form of public speaking every day in front of my students, but to me that feels different. I can't explain why, but I am totally comfortable talking to children in large or small groups. In my experience they make a less intimidating audience, though I am sure there are people that would argue the opposite. Like I said, as a teacher, there are occasions when I must give a parent education night or a presentation to fellow staff members. In recent years I have been told by coworkers that they can't even tell that I am nervous. That's because I have learned to cover some of my more obvious flaws.
Different people react to fear in different ways. When I am nervous I speak loudly and my voice quivers.I get very cold and physically shaky. I always take an extra sweatshirt with me when I am flying across the country (yep, I also have a fear of flying-ready to sign me up for therapy yet?) because I know I am going to be freezing for the whole flight. The cold is sometimes accompanied by sweat, which is in my opinion ridiculous, but it happens. The worst part for me, the part that is horribly embarrassing is the physical shaking. When I was in fifth grade I did a huge research project on Betsy Ross. I really got into the role, had a costume, a very well-written report and was excited to present to my class. I could not tell you a single thing that was in that report, but I can tell you that I quivered so much that the only thing my classmates could hear was the sound of shaking paper. If you think I am exaggerating, think again. I saw my fifth grade teacher about ten years ago and she said "Remember that time you did the report on Betsy Ross and you stood there shaking like a leaf, I felt so bad for you!" Remember it? I've repeated it over and over again through they years! In high school I gave speeches during election time to run for class office. I always won, just going to show you that teenagers can be some of the most sympathetic people on earth. Even in college when I was presenting a project on how to make a Japanese kite out of paper, I shook so hard that my friends in my class couldn't make eye contact with me for a week! So now when I give a presentation I do any thing I possibly can to avoid holding things. I memorize what I will say, I call on assistants to help with visuals and I involve my audience whenever possible! It's a clever technique that works much of the time, but not always.
If those things aren't bad enough, occasionally, instead of breaking into a nervous sweat, I get the giggles. And by giggles I mean it starts with a small snicker and ends with an inappropriate and uncontrollable cacophony of laughter. This can also be traced back to childhood. One time in a Hanukkah play the boy speaking before me accidentally said "All the pee-pee" instead of "All the people" I laughed so hard that I thought I was going to pee-pee myself all over the stage. I couldn't recover and in my mind the play was ruined. In seventh grade I was selected to read a Christmas poem with my friends Jessica and Erika, the auditorium was full of parents, grandparents, teachers and students. I managed to get the giggles somehow and the three of us never got through our poem. They say laughter is contagious which was very unfortunate for Jessica and Erika. We were pulled off stage by a very angry teacher. If only she knew I wasn't being disrespectful, just nervous. I've even gotten the giggles at a funeral. Maybe two funerals. It's not a good thing to have happen.
Like I said in the first paragraph September is always a busy month. This month I had to do both a parent night and a presentation for the school board. I have been doing the September parent night in some form for so long that I almost wasn't nervous, but about fifteen minutes before we started I actually began thinking, "I'm not nervous, that's so weird. It's so crazy that I'm not cold, or shaky, or giggly. I think I might be over my fear. After all my coworkers say I always look confident." Umm yeah, you can imagine how I talked myself from calm to frantic in under fifteen minutes. It wasn't my best night. This past Wednesday was the presentation for the school board members. For some reason I gave a presentation that required me to use some hands-on materials. One was very small and I had to hold it up for the board members to see. They probably couldn't see it anyway as my hand was shaking too hard to make out what I was holding.
I tell my students that the more you practice something the better you become. We've all said that to our children because 99% of the time it's true. (One percent of the time you might practice and practice something, like let's say the clarinet and still your band teacher gently suggests that you find a different hobby-I know, I know, t-h-e-r-a-p-y). So yes, I know to be a better speaker I need to get up there in front of the crowds more often. If I was really ambitious, I'd look for public speaking opportunities. But, I'm just not there yet. For now, if I am going to get up on stage to sweat, giggle and shake, I'd like to do it in a dance club in Paris after a rewarding day of scaling the Eiffel Tower.
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