Pretty things and boys -whatever their age

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My adored son knows I like pretty things- and wine- and this Christmas I found a lovely Spanish red with my stocking.  A rich, ruby red, plummy, earthy, notes of cherry, Juan Gil Monastrell – perfect for me and my untrendy fondess for the uber Tuscans.  A perfect start to a recent quiet evening in the midst of this robust holiday season.

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Perfect too, the dropping by of the adored son who came to borrow the Jeep, pick up gifts and other items he’d left behind, and use one of the couches as a pit-stop-restaurant.  Listening to some of my favourite women of jazz:  Norah Jones, Diana Krall …Basking in the glow of the Christmas tree lights and the candles.,..oh and perhaps the wine, and with the aforementioned son puttering about, I was feeling as blissed as bliss can be.  The son came over to give the motherofason the required kiss on the top of the head before leaving.  The mother sat and, as they say, had a good stare…

The candles were glowing, the mother awoke from her stare and moved across the room.  There was something in the light of the tree and the candles-  something muted and soft casting a shadow.  A turn of the head and what’s this?

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Guesses anyone?  Well it took me a moment.

Scrunched up and tucked into the wrought iron candle holder:  the white plastic take out bag…

Brett!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

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