My Week 268: In Space, No One Can Hear You Drinking Wine

The other day, Ken and I were watching the news and there was a story on about the International Space Station. It was due to receive a shipment of supplies, among which was 12 bottles of fine French wine. “See,” I said, “I could totally be an astronaut if there was wine involved.” And then the story continued to explain that the astronauts wouldn’t be DRINKING the wine—it was an experiment to see how wine AGES IN SPACE. First of all, does anyone actually age wine? Aren’t you just supposed to drink it right away? I mean, the only time I EVER aged wine was when I had a bottle of Chardonnay and somehow it rolled under the couch, and I didn’t find it until we were re-arranging the furniture. And let me tell you, a Chardonnay that’s been lying next to a heating vent for three years pretty much tastes like cat piss. Well, at first anyway—then you get used to it. (Just kidding—I threw it out after the first glass).

At the wine store where my family “makes” wine, the owner is always telling me off for not filling the bottles high enough, because “too much oxygen will get in and, over time, will spoil the wine”, and I’m like, “How long do you think this case is sitting around for? Cuz I’ll be back next month.” And I put “makes” in quotations marks because our role is to order it, pay for it, then come back after 4 weeks and bottle it. What happens in between, I have no idea. All I know is that we show up at our appointment time, and put the wine in the bottles like a well-oiled Rube Goldberg Machine, with me filling the bottles, Dad corking, Mom as the label affixer extraordinaire, and Ken melting the foils on. We have it down to a fine art. (Fun Fact: I couldn’t remember the name of the Machine initially, and all I kept thinking of was a “RuPaul Machine”, but that would involve us the four of us being in drag and throwing shade at each other while we worked, and MY GOD, wouldn’t that be f*cking awesome?).

At any rate, as soon as we heard about the wine being aged in space, I said, “Well, I guess I couldn’t be an astronaut after all if there’s no wine. Watch—I’d get caught sneaking it and NASA would send me home on the next Russian shuttle” and Ken laughed and said, “That’s the ONLY reason?!” and he was right. Here are three other reasons why I could never be an astronaut:

1) I hate countdowns.

I’m the kind of person who thinks counting down is stressful. Like, when they say, “3, 2, 1, Blast-off!!”— do we blast off when we SAY “Blast off” or right AFTER we say it? And I know that some people HATE it when you ask questions for clarification and will get irrationally angry at you (*fake cough* NASA *fake cough*), but if I’m pushing a button that will launch me into space, I should probably know the EXACT moment to do it.

2) I abhor a vacuum.

I’m very much like nature in a lot of ways. For example, I have done several Facebook quizzes and know that if I was a fossil, I would be ammonite, if I was a dinosaur, I would be a Triceratops, and if I was a flower, I would be a lily, which is a weird coincidence because my first name is Hebrew for Lily. Anyway, just like nature, I hate vacuums. They are extremely noisy and yes, I know that a space vacuum is completely different, but I’m sure I would hate it too.

3) There are no Fluevogs in space.

Fluevogs are very fancy shoes, with only around 300 made in each style, and I have just discovered them. A couple of weeks ago, some of the women I work with went on an expedition to the Fluevog store, but I had to catch the train and couldn’t go. The next day they all came in wearing these outrageously cool shoes, all in different styles and colours—I heard someone once describe Fluevogs as the kind of shoes you would wear to an Alice In Wonderland Tea Party, and it’s true. I was super-jealous, and I wanted a pair too, but there was no way I was getting to the store anytime soon, so I checked the local Facebook Buy and Sell site and wouldn’t you know it? There was a pair in my size being sold for HALF PRICE by a woman who was a mutual friend of one of my friends, which meant we were almost sisters, and her house was on my way home from the train station. She’s only worn them once and they were gorgeous, so I bought them. When I got home, I showed them to Ken who said, “Aren’t those heels a little high? How are you going to walk in them when you have arthritis?” Silly Ken. You don’t WALK in Fluevogs. You just stand there feeling glorious. I don’t think NASA would appreciate me wearing pose-y shoes with my space suit, and I sure as hell couldn’t do a space walk in them, but DAMN they are f*cking fabulous. My Director saw them and called them “Bathroom Shoes” because you wear them somewhere special where you only have to walk to the bathroom and back in them. But wait—if space is a gravity-free environment, I COULD probably wear them all day.

So hey, NASA, if you’re interested in a middle-aged woman who’s ready to drink all your wine, is named after a flower, and who is prepared to drive your spaceship in the most kick-ass shoes you’ve ever seen, give me a call in 3, 2, 1…

52 thoughts on “My Week 268: In Space, No One Can Hear You Drinking Wine”

  6. Lol, leave your answer machine on at all times, I would hate for you to miss that call. Oh and increase your personal insurance because I’m sure you will take a tumble in your shoes especially if you’ve just had a drink of cat piss…. sorry wine 😉 …..love your posts, they make my week ❤️

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  8. Would you believe I have a bottle of wine from the year I was born? I could have had it on my first birthday but it was a little young and so was I. Wine experts tell me it’ll be at its prime when it’s fifty, and so will I, hopefully. I’ve tried to keep it properly stored and all that but it’s been moved around a bit so I also hope I won’t take a sip and go, “Ah, yes, that was a good year for cat piss.”
    And that reminds me that there was an episode of Columbo where he caught a wine expert with a heated bottle of wine, and and another where a chef was killing people with a poisoned bottle opener. So maybe you can’t be an astronaut but you could be a detective, taking down people for abuse of wine.
    Also those Fluevogs are amazing and I think you should find a pair in Ken’s size for his drag outfit.

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    • There’s actually a Sauvignon Blanc from NZ called “Cat Piss on a Gooseberry Bush”. It’s a pretty accurate description! I have to find out if they make Fluevogs in anything higher than an 11–I know several people who’d be interested!

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  10. I hate vacuums too, they are just so noisy and sucky! S. Always gives in first and cleans the house. I do sometimes use a broom.
    We have wine from our previous life. Just as well, since we have no money now, but a nice bottle is never a problem. The difference between a £5 bottle and a £20 one is the lack of hangover.

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  13. I didn’t read the full news about wine being sent to ISS, just saw the headlines few days back. I also remember a follow-up headline that many people criticized this decision (because the wine was so expensive?). I naturally assumed the real objection was based on ‘don’t drink and drive’ principle. I mean you don’t let people drive a car in a drunken state, and giving them free pass with a spaceship? Come on. Then I thought…wait, no body is actually ‘driving’ ISS, that thing is ‘stationed’ in space. I was getting gradually more confused. Today after reading your blog all my confusions cleared up. Now I have a very clear understanding what all this is about. Thanks.

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  14. I have a regular customer and kinda friend who own’s a cabinet shop on the front (is that the proper terminology?) and a wine shop on the side (cuz that is) and he once gave me a nice bottle of aged stuff. I can’t remember why. I used to run into him all the time at “The Post Office” which has nothing to do with letters and everything to do with beers and steaks and burgers and shots and one time he asked me “did you ever drink that bottle of wine?” and I responded “not yet, I’m saving it for a special occasion so it’s still on top of the fridge.”

    He about lost his mind.

    I think he probably would have told me that next to a heater duct would have been better than on top of the fridge which he said was “the worst place to ever leave wine!” I think he was physically mad, and his wife looked at me like I was from space. Why do wine people think everyone should know everything about wine or should appreciate it as much as they do?

    Anyway, I eventually drank it.

    It tasted like piss.

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