Would you rather live with someone who was a perpetual optimist (a Pollyanna)…

Or someone who’s a realist with an eye for micro details that can turn complaints onto an art form? (Looks at self in the mirror and raises hand for the latter.)

Lately, I’ve been in a weird sort of headspace…

On the one hand, I’m uber grateful for my life.

On the other hand, I’m a woman over 40…

Don’t ever try to pick a fight with me, I’m simmering with rage and sick of everyone’s nonsense. So, don’t even attempt it.

And yet everything is turning up roses. But that’s not to say I haven’t had severe setbacks and personal traumatic events occur over the past year.

The top of the wonderful list is Mr. W&D, and I recently got engaged.

My business is growing (but I did lose over $100,000 last year in badly structured deals – which felt like I lit it on fire).

I’m finally feeling gorgeous again despite gaining two dress sizes (I lost 130lbs over three years ago. So my weight has always been a massive struggle for me, especially since I love to eat and drink).

I don’t tell you any of this to brag. I say it to because you MUST celebrate your wins.

Take a minute and think about what’s going GREAT for you.

It doesn’t matter if you’re not exactly where you want to be financially, physically, or emotionally. Hold the feelings you want to feel.

You’ll get yourself that much closer to the actual state of being that you WANT. Instead of focusing on what you don’t want…

I tend to complain about things that don’t matter. 

Like…

Why aren’t all the coffee table books facing the same way?

Why does this geode cost $200?

Why does the mailman shove everything in the mailbox so I can’t get anything out?

Like I said, I complain about things that aren’t important. Because I don’t believe in complaining about what you really want. Just go and get what you want.

The past week I’ve hated the front yard…

The shrubs and flower beds are overgrown, and our mulch looked like we got it from Wood Chippers R’ Us. Not to mention the weeds in our yard are living their best life ever.

I must have listed 13 things wrong with our yard that Mr. W&D just stood listening to, while blankly sipping on a whiskey sour. while texting the lawn guy.

Which then spawned a trip to World Market via the interwebs of course. I ordered rustic storage bins, Moroccan steel lamps, and galvanized steel tubs to store logs for winter in on our patio.

We picked up everything thanks to contactless pick-up. And a pleasant surprise greeted us in the parking lot. We met his sister, who was jonesing for a trip to Ulta. Donning masks, we chatted outside the store and then went our separate ways.

At home, I’ve been obsessed with watching “Somebody Feed Phil,” on Netflix. If you haven’t watched this show, he’s the cutest Dad type, he eats and travels. I miss traveling so much.

So, Phil was eating his way through London, which happens to be Mr. W&D’s 2nd hometown. Phil stumbled into a batch of fish & chips from Ken’s Fish Shop.

It was mouthwatering, of course, I wanted to make it.

I had no idea how to cook traditional fish & chips, so I took to Pinterest for recipes.

Nearly 75% were too complicated “rice flour?” Really, Gordon Ramsay? I don’t think cockney Ken is using rice flour in his batter. Just stop it. Now.

Finally, I found a simple one. It was one cup flour, 1 1/2 cups VERY COLD good English beer, two teaspoons baking powder, and teaspoon salt. I had cod in the freezer, and we bought potatoes so we’re off to the races.

I will do a proper recipe post for it later on.

Now came the set-up…

After I drank the leftover beer and got everything organized, I took it all outside to fry the fish on the patio.

Because there’s no way, I’m deep frying in our house. I cannot.

And since I am terrified of deep-frying, I wanted to do it outside where the danger can set upon the outdoors, and I can run away screaming. Maybe I’m being a tad too dramatic?

By this time I needed a refreshing glass of wine so that I could fry outside in 90-degree weather. Because once I decide on a project, I’m committed.

Mainlining 2011 Sonntag Geschlossen Grüner Veltliner 

Cue 2011 Sonntag Geschlossen Grüner Veltliner, Austria by vom Boden…

I needed something refreshing and light enough not to get me swizzled while I was dancing with the devil. The devil being searing hot cooking oil.

This wine is refreshing and had me feeling good as hell (Lizzo reference, but I digress).

Let me tell you about this pleasant surprise. I don’t even know how I stumbled on it. But the label had me intrigued. Very minimal.

And when I googled “Sonntag Geschlossen” (the translation would be “closed on Sundays”).

The winemakers are Florian Schuhmann and Marcus Sonntag. It turns out Marcus is a computer nerd, and he took over his father’s vineyards.

He let Florian bottle the wine because Marcus couldn’t be bothered. I appreciate someone who sticks with their strengths and doesn’t try to be a jack of all trades.

This is the first vintage from their duo, and it’s stunning.

I thought the wine was mislabeled with 2011, but no, I was wrong (and I don’t say that often). This wine has been barreled aged for seven years in a barrel that’s over 100 years old and holds over 2,400 liters. I like how the Austrians go big or go home.

It’s clear greenish-gold when poured, finely structured, elegant, clean, crisp, and refreshing.

The wine tastes of lemon curd, golden apples, pears dipped in brown sugar caramel, torn shreds of golden brioche, a touch of ginger, and lemongrass.

I drank this wine all day. It’s not hurling mineral rocks at you, but kissing you gently with a mineral finish.

Since we aren’t Wachau where most Grüner Veltliner hails, we aren’t paying the premium of those prices. You can find this wine for $29 a bottle. Get it, and thank me later.

The fish frying was a harrowing experience…

I was sweating bullets and afraid I’d burn myself the entire time. But then I felt that the food would feel my fear and not come out properly. Don’t judge me. I think the food knows if you’re afraid of it.

So, I took another huge gulp of my Sonntag and forced myself to chillax.

When ate dinner, the fish was crunchy, airy, and delicious. We licked our fingers it was that good.

Do yourself a favor this weekend grab yourself some 2011 Sonntag Geschlossen Grüner Veltliner…

Pronounce yourself closed on Sundays to do nothing but enjoy wine.