Being Tara (for a day or so)

Warning: This post is not written by Tara. Which is why there are (presently) no pictures. Deal with it.

Yesterday, I went with my sister and a few of her friends to the Roblar Winery in Santa Ynez. I had never been wine tasting before, and I was very excited. Ignoring the growing realization that wine gives me a headache regardless of how much I consume, or the humble acknowledgment that I really can't tell the difference between "hints of green grass" and "aromas of freshly mown grass," I had agreed to come along. We lounged in summer dresses on the balcony of the lodge overlooking rows of grape vines. We picnicked on local sandwiches, brie and baguette, with blueberries and fresh peaches. We said clever things to one another. It was a perfect prequel to my guest blogging here, because I was more or less pretending to be Tara. Only she would do all that naturally, and I felt - just a bit - like an impostor. The wonderful thing about wine, of course, is that after a few sips, impostor or not, you're just happy to be there.

As I am now, intruding, imposting, on Tara's blog, quite happily.

Me drinking wine is a little bit like me playing poker. I like wine alright, but I don't know anything about it really, and I don't know how to properly appreciate it. I just haven't trained my palate. Or something. I also don't appreciate poker. Unlike wine, it makes me mad. I feel like I have no control over my cards or the outcome of each hand. I don't understand it. I just haven't trained my...poker hand. Or something. But I really like the idea of both. You know when you're watching James Bond or Maverick and there's just something cool about the toss of the cards, the shlip shlip of the shuffle, and you think "I really like this game"?

That's me with wine. All you have to do is watch Bottle Shock. Or look at some pictures of Napa Valley. Or read one of those old mystery novels where the guy is hiding in the wine cellar between wooden barrels of red, and the butler comes down for the dinner selection and almost catches him...just barely! Yep. That's when I think, oh how I would love to be a connoisseur!

I haven't checked, so I'm not sure if this is the sort of blog where people leave lengthy comment threads. It should be. Mostly because I'm curious, and I will feel silly if I throw out a question and no one responds. (I used to hate being the last person to say anything at a slumber party before everyone fell asleep. My words would ring in my head in the silence until they turned into silly noise, and I was sure everyone was thinking, "why did she say that?" even though I knew they were thinking nothing. They were just dreaming. Same concept here.) So here's my question, and let's see what comes of it:

If you could be a connoisseur of something, assuming you're not already, what would it be?

Wine, poker, piano, roses, sea slugs...there are so many options. I am so very curious.