Come to grips with Riesling. I resolve to do this every year — along with losing weight and keeping the garage clean — and fail utterly. My problem is with the something-less-than-mellifluous German language. Who thought it was a good idea to convert whole paragraphs into single, polysyllabic words? When did the Germans decide that random word order was a good idea? How sensible is having three genders — male, female and “going through a process of self-discovery.” Anyway, I will overcome my aversion to German (caused largely by watching too many World War II movies) and submerge as best I can into the world of Qualitätswein bestimmter Anbaugebiete and Prädikatswein, from Anbaugebiet to Einzellage, this year. Maybe.
Organize the basement. Put the wine boxes in some sort of order. Start a cellar book so I can keep track of what I have in my re-organized boxes. Include in the book information about when, where and at what cost all my wine is acquired. Hide the book from my wife.
Drink all those bottles of wine that are past their prime but that I’m holding onto because they’re the last bottles of that wine I have. Sentiment be damned; the wine isn’t getting any better, so just fucking drink it.
Be a pain in the ass to my state representatives. I’ve put a prompt into my Google Calendar reminding me to call or write once a month to see how they’re doing on liberalizing Kentucky’s direct shipment laws, which are among the most restrictive in the country. My particular representatives are State Senator Tim Shaughnessy and State Representative Mary Lou Marzian, and by June I want to be well known in their offices as a crank. I will call or write, because that is harder to ignore than email, and when they have public forums I will attend and ask them in person.