Yesterday, my friend Eleni and I decided to take an impromptu ~~booze run~~ wine tasting trip to Oliver Winery in Bloomington. I love living in a a town where you can decide to do this after lunch and not have to alert everyone you haven't run away for a week. On the flip side, knowing I can just take 45 minutes to drive and buy wine on a Sunday from ONE location in the state gives me mixed feelings. At least we aren't living in Kansas.

After tasting practically all of Oliver's dry whites (I've yet to meet a red that didn't need to taste like Welch's grape juice just to get it down), Eleni and I bought two glasses of wine, some cheese and crackers, and made our way down to the pond. It would have been perfect, had my butt sweat decided not to make its way through my pants.

I left Oliver with a single bottle of the Creekside Traminette. Eleni, ever the fashionably booze-stocked lady I love her to be, bought three bottles for herself. Don't judge - SOMETIMES THAT'S WHAT A GIRL NEEDS.

Soon after our departure, Eleni reminded me we wanted to stop a roadside nursery off of 37, which proved to be the best idea ever (despite the onslaught of bees upon our arrival).