And no, kickster is not just another word for quitter. Kicksters and quitters are not the same thing. A kickster is simply someone who goes on tangents, who learns a lot about a particular subject or thing or idea, who maybe identifies with it for a while, and then perhaps moves on to something else once the particular kick has run its course. For example, I may or may not have gone on a vintage bell bottoms kick in high school. I also may or may not have gone on a country music kick followed by a rap music kick. Or a Sweet Factory kick. (You know, that store in the mall where they sell all different kinds of candy in bins and it costs about $100 a pound. I do have to say, though, that the high price of the candy was worth it because our Sweet Factory was right next door to Glamour Shots, so once I bought my eight-pound bag of candy, I'd just park myself on the bench in front of Glamour Shots for some eye-catching people watching. And if I ran out of candy before a particularly intriguing shoot wrapped, I could just pop back into the Sweet Factory for a quick refill. Quality entertainment, I tell you.) Anyway, because all of these things were just kicks, they ran their course, and it's not that I'm now against any of those things; rather, I'm just no longer particularly into wearing vintage bell bottoms or blaring country or rap music from my car. (Yes, I admit that I'd totally still be up for eating Sweet Factory candy on a bench in front of Glamour Shots, but that could be hard to arrange because I don't even know whether those stores exist now.) In any event, it's true that one can go on pretty much any kind of kick, for example: a peppermint sundae kick, a dress-smocking kick, a juicing kick, a Tae Bo kick, a Jane Austen kick, a Ducati kick, even a John Denver kick. (And yes, those are real life examples, but don't worry, I'm not naming names. You know who you are.)
Right now, I'm actually on a West Wing kick. I never watched the show when it aired on television, but I've spent the past several months watching the show episode by episode from the very beginning. And let's just say that from here on out, I'm likely to name all of my pets after characters on that show. It's just that good. (And I'm not even a political person. Not really, at least.)
But here's the real point of this post. (I think.) I'm also on a boxed wine kick right now. Yep, you read that correctly. I'm on a boxed wine kick, and not in an excessive-drinking-who's-that-wino kind of way, just in an oh-my-if-you-haven't-had-boxed-wine-since-you-lived-in-a-dorm-room-then-you-really-should-give-it-a-another-try kind of way. And here's why.
1. It's incredibly inexpensive. One of the brands that I like costs about $15, and one box of it holds the same amount of wine as four bottles.
2. It lasts for up to six weeks after you've opened it. (The airtight spigot and bladder keep oxygen from getting to the wine.) If you're like me and you sometimes just want to have one glass of wine while you cook, or while you blog, or while you bake cookies for your book club meeting the next day (like I'm supposed to be doing right now), and if you often go out of town or find yourself very busy several nights in a row, then you know how annoying it is to open a bottle of wine, have one or two glasses, and then just have it go bad before the next time you have a chance to have a glass. With boxed wine, I can pour myself one glass of wine whenever I want and not worry about whether it will be a week or two before I have another. (I do have a wine vacuum sealer, and that helps save bottled wine for several days, but certainly not for up to six weeks.)
3. It's good for the environment. The production and transportation of boxed wine is much cheaper for the wine makers and distributors, and perhaps most importantly, it is estimated that the carbon cost of producing and shipping a single three liter box of wine is half that of producing and shipping a 750 milliliter bottle of wine.
4. The packaging is cute. Yeah, this is one situation where I firmly disagree with the saying "don't judge a book by its cover." I mean, how else am I supposed to pick out wine? Forget about things like body and bouquet and finish. Aside from the price and perhaps the place of origin, the cuteness of the name and the design of the packaging are the things on which I rely when picking out wine. Seriously, never underestimate the power of good design. And because boxed wine has such a bad reputation, wine makers are really going out of their way these days to design attractive boxed wine.
5. Finally, I don't have a wine cellar and am not really into that kind of thing anyway. (Most boxed wines have a "use by" date on them, and if you're always drinking your best wine, then you're always drinking your best wine.)
Okay, so the next time you're at the grocery store buying wine, consider checking out the selection of boxed wine and giving one a try.
And now, on a totally unrelated note, Zelda ate a hole in her brand new bed this afternoon. Sensing her apparent boredom and frustration with her life, I decided to take her for some apparently much-needed off-leash play time at her favorite park near my house. However, instead of redeeming herself during this off-leash play time, Zelda decided to take a dirt bath, which for those of you who may not know about these things means that she rolled around and tunneled her way so forcefully through a pit of dirt that she managed to turn herself an interesting brownish-gray color, sort of like a failed Just For Men attempt. (Yes, of course I chased her, but there's just no catching her while she's dirt rolling and tunneling. I will add that all of the other dog owners thought this entire scene--picture me running after Zelda, halfway bent over and chasing her in circles through the dirt--was mighty funny, that is, until they realized that their dogs were likely to follow Zelda's lead.) All of the dirt-rolling and tunneling just resulted in an emergency bath for Zelda, which is not something that she typically enjoys. Nevertheless, I think she had so much fun at the park that the bath was a small price to pay. She's happy and snoring at my feet right now. And I swear she grinned at me today, which only convinces me even more that one day dogs will be able to utter words. And yes, I realize that means that I'm a little bit crazy. I'm okay with that.