and we're back

Well, sort of. I'd planned to begin the first full week of the first year of the new decade with my ducks in a row: house cleaned, office organized, laundry done, bills paid, e-mails replied to, hair washed, dog groomed, fridge and cupboards stocked. But my house and office are a mess, my dirty clothes still in the suitcase, my inbox full, the pot of gruel I cooked to sustain me this week inedible. I haven't showered in days, let alone brushed the teeth and cleaned the ears of my dog.

So. We really are back: Back to exactly where we were when I left off last year, spending more time with my fleece-clad ass on the couch than my nose to the grindstone.

A toast, then, to the couch.

Wait. Do you need something to fill your glass? A nice wine to sip while you sit on your couch, toasting your couch? (God, I love my couch. It's an oasis. An oasis of denial and procrastination, but a nice place nonetheless.) Because I have a recommendation. Not for a specific bottle of wine—Couch Jedis are too lazy by nature to be oenophiles (though we do have strong opinions about what's good and bad)—but a recommendation for where to find wine recommendations.

For awhile now I've relied on the wine reviews of a guy called Tuta who writes for a local wine shop. And now Tuta has started his own wine bl*g, which means that I can sit on my couch drinking wine and reading about wines I hope to one day buy and drink while sitting on my couch. (It's called the circle of life, people.)

The yachtsman and I are not big spenders—we rarely buy a bottle for ourselves that costs more than $15, and we must love people very, very much to bring them a bottle that costs more than $20. But even when the wine Tuta's reviewing is out of my price range, I enjoy his writing. He provides interesting historical background and describes food pairings that make me salivate, but what I like best is the way he makes the often-stuffy language of wine accessible: "The taste is lightly herbal—a sprig of juniper, a crab apple, a pine cone—like things a child might bring home from a long walk." Because I can rarely find the crab apple or the pine cone in a glass of wine, but I think I could taste the treasures found on a long walk.

Cheers, then, to the couch and to the dirty floor on which the couch sits. To the wine we'll drink, to the dog's unbrushed teeth, to resolutions and good intentions. To things changing, and to things staying the same.