It has recently been brought to my attention that whenever I talk to my fiancé about our upcoming nuptials I refer to it as "MY wedding." Apparently, he's not involved. I guess I'm marrying myself.

That should at least make the five o'clock news.

But, seriously, Andrew and I have both been trying to get in wedding planning mode, a mode we've never been in before. We keep being reminded of all the stuff we need to do: get a place, set a date, hire a photographer, get flowers. It's almost overwhelming, all the stuff involved. I mean, really, what is up with having to buy a wedding cake? I have a box of Duncan Hines, a can of frosting, and an oven. I fail to see a problem.

The other day we realized that we also need to register. Now, most people, particularly women, probably live for their wedding registry. In fact, I'm convinced that some women get married multiple times for no other reason than multiple registries (multiple registries are very satisfying).

I, on the other hand, am not much of a shopper. Sure, a shoplifter in my youth but still not a shopper in adulthood. I just don't really like to shop and I'm overwhelmed with the idea of figuring out what we need, what we want, and what we will end up taking back solely for the cash value.

So, Andrew and I discussed it and decided we'd only register at places housing gifts we love, gifts that will never go to waste, and gifts we don't think we can live without.

Keep your eyes open for our registry, available soon at liquor stores around the Denver metro area.

Hello out there to all my loyal reader. Yes, that's singular on purpose. Yet again I'm sorry I've been away. I was too bogged down to blog. Oh wait, I think I've used that joke before. Oh well, laugh anyway.

So, tomorrow night my fiancé and I are attending our engagement happy hour. That's right, you're all invited.

What's an engagement happy hour? Well, I'm glad you asked. Basically, an engagement happy hour is like an engagement party but way less formal. We don't want presents (though they won't be turned away (HINT HINT)), but we do want alcohol. If its red and in a glass, it's the gift of a lifetime.

I wasn't even going to have an engagement party; I've been in enough weddings to know that they get expensive, expensive for all the people involved. So, on top of the Hope Diamond I suspect everyone is going to get us for the actual big day, I didn't want to add another party.

But, our friends wanted to celebrate the big occasion and, since our wedding is a year away, we figured there was no reason to not get the party started.

Seeing how the happy hour begins at five, and really should be called "happy hours," I'm thinking I need to drink something that's not too strong. I don't want to end up a drunken fool in public (in private, I’m all about it). I'm going to try like heck to stay away from shots…no matter how much a lemon drop begs and pleads, I've got to be strong.

One thing's for certain, I'm sticking to wine as my drink of choice. Call me a wine snob, call me a wino, call me a wine drinking fool, I take them all as compliments.

For me, wine is the only way to do happy hour, engagement or otherwise. Without it, the term "Happy Hour" just doesn’t make much sense.

We'll, I'm back from Vegas and sad to say that I did not in fact hit it rich like I was planning. Turns out that the house usually wins. Huh...who knew? And here I thought those billion dollar casinos were built on people winning.

But, at least I didn't chase my losses: I didn't lose a lot of money. Or, worse, lose so much money that I find myself sleeping under the bridge at I-25 and Broadway (at least it has easy highway access).

Even if I had "lost" a ton of money, I think I won it back in wine. Some people win it back at the buffett, I win it back at the free alcohol.

Five video poker machines played

Three NFL games bet on

Seven hours of Black jack

All adds up to equal = too many glasses of wine to count.

Thus, I came back a winner.  

Tomorrow night I'm headin' to Vegas. I've been excited for this for months but last night I was attacked by a vicious cold (maybe it's the Bird flu). So, needless to say, I'm a little annoyed. It's no fun going on vacation and being sick. I'm hoping my cold won't come with me; maybe they won't let it past security.

I'm optimistically thinking that the worst of the cold will be behind me come tomorrow night. That gives me 24 hours to get it out of my system. Today I worked from home, and drank a ton of liquid (unfortunately no wine was involved). I plan to go to bed early tonight (after the first NFL game) and wake up to the melodic voices of cartoon animals singing. In other words, I hope to wake up refreshed.  

Once I get to Vegas, I could use some antioxidants. Thus, I'm drinking red wine. I figure if I alternate red wine with something nonalcoholic, say plain old boring water, I should be fine.

Anyway, wish me luck. Perhaps, I will get rid of my cold and hit it rich. If I lose all my money hopefully I can get a refund, though they've never given me one when I've asked before.

See you guys on Monday! Viva Las wine...and Vegas.

So on Friday night I got engaged. Or, as my parents would say, on Friday night Hell froze ever. Whatever Mom and Dad. Keep it up and no grandchildren. None.

At any rate, now that the engagement has occurred (to the man who really is the love of my life (Hi Andrew!)), the wedding planning has commenced. As someone who is not really much of an organizer, my trapper keeper was always the messiest one in elementary school, I've found myself a little overwhelmed: there is just so much to do.

Now, we could avoid all the planning and easily elope. I mean, my best friend lives in Nevada and Andrew has (until the intervention) a deep appreciation for gambling, so we go to Vegas quite frequently. In fact, I've been there twice this year and Andrew and I, plus my family, are all going again in two days. So, eloping would be easy. I can practically hear the Elvis impersonator/pastor calling our name.

But, here's the thing: I'm not an eloper. My whole life I've wanted a big wedding, not one with all the bells and whistles, but one with all the people I care about (there aren't really any bells and whistles that mean that much to me). So, I really don't want to elope unless all of "our people" are there, which kind of defeats the purpose of eloping.

Thus, it's off to the weddings plans. We haven't set a date but it will be September of next year. The only thing we've really decided on is our colors. As life long Bronco fans, we can't help but go orange and blue.

When it comes to liquor, as much as I have greatly appreciated all the open bar weddings I've been to in the past, those are, well, sort of really ridiculously expensive. So, my hope is to do away with the "open bar" and have one that is only partially ajar, in the form of wine and beer.

Since wine and beer are affordable, particularly compared to the crown royal some of my bridesmaids (ahem, Steph) would order, I think it would be fair to have them free. After all, all you really need is beer and wine….minus the beer, of course.

But, my problem is this: working in the wine industry, I've become a bit of a wine snob. I mean, I hardly ever even buy Boone's Farm anymore. This has made me want to provide all of our wedding guests with the top of the line wine selection. However, barring a huge win in Vegas, we are on a budget.

So, I pose a question to you, my loyal readers: what types of wines have you served at your weddings and what would you recommend or definitely not recommend? If anyone has any suggestions, or simply wants my address to send us a wedding present, please contact me at jenn@savoreachglass.com.

An operator is standing by.

On Saturday night, I had a run in with some bad wine….really bad wine. Now, I'd like to say that I knew the wine was bad because I awoke to it standing over me with a knife, threatening to attack. That would make for a much cooler story.

But, instead, my story is kind of lame. Still, that doesn't mean you get to quit reading.

It all started with the Denver Bronco game that aired at 7 pm. As a lifelong Bronco fan, I was determined to watch the game and, as I did, I felt my hopes of an undefeated season drift away. My team looked kind of bad. Yet I, always resourceful, found solace in two things: it's only preseason, and there's always wine.

On Saturday night there was wine….sort of.

The badness of the wine came to fruition when I poured it in a glass, tasted it and it tasted, well, bad. I can't even describe the taste, though I know it's something I wouldn't drink willingly. It was kind of a gross flavor, with some really gross flavors mixed in. Yeah, that's the gist of it.

It all started out so innocently….

My boyfriend brought over a few bottles of wine that he'd had in his possession for quite some time. He said he didn't think that he stored them properly and there was a chance they had spoiled. "Nonsense," I said to him, "They don't look bad at all. In fact, that bottle over there just winked at me." I insisted that we drink them.

On the first bottle, I was right. It tasted fine.

The second bottle, however, was another story. It smelled a little musty, but that wasn't enough to deter me; my taste buds needed proof…..and proof they got. The flavor, needless to say, was not wine, but it still gave me something to whine about.

I think that was the first time in my life that I've actually tasted wine that has gone to the dark side. I've definitely tasted a few that - though not yet to the dark side - were making their voyage. But, this one takes the cake as far as bad wines go. But, don't worry, it doesn't take a good cake; it takes a bad one, like a urinal cake.

Okay, so I've been away for a while. Sorry about that. I didn't forget about any of you, my loyal fans, I mean, friends. I actually was quite busy with another project, one that wasn't wine related. I know, crazy, right? Let's all show our shock at the same time. Ready…one, two, three: Gasp!

It felt good to get that off my chest.

So, anyway, how are you guys? I feel bad because, let's face it, I never really ask.

Anyway, enough about you, let's talk about me.

In today's blog, I really have to write about what I did on Saturday night. Tynan, my boss (a.k.a. my friend who gives me money two times a month), had my boyfriend and me and a few other people over to his house for a five course dinner and wine tasting.

Now, I figured it would be good: Tynan is a great cook (he puts my Hot Pockets to shame) and he knows more about wine than anyone I've ever met. After all, he's a sommelier. But, even knowing that it would be good still didn't prepare me for how great it was.

We started off with some homemade guacamole and crackers, then had some incredible corn chowder. This was followed by tuna that was awesome (all the cats around the neighborhood actually began peeking in the windows, looking at us through jealous eyes), and topped it off with a rice and chicken dish that, I'm not ashamed to say, I would have eaten my body weight in. The final dish of the evening was chocolate. I am female, therefore, Tynan had me at "chocolate."

I can't recall all the wines we drank, but we drank quite a bit. I know there was a Pinot Noir and Riesling in the menu, and a lot of other kinds in my liver. Right where they belong.

The food, the wine, and the food and wine pairings were absolutely incredible. Hopefully Tynan will have me over again soon if I kiss up enough (Tynan, if you're reading this, you looked really nice today).

Perhaps he should put the menu, and what wines to pair with what foods, on our website so all of you guys can play along at home. If we don't include you, then I just kind of feel like I'm gloating.

So, every Thursday night, I play on a kickball team...and by "play" I mean I stand in the outfield picking grass and hoping the ball doesn't come my way. Turns out, I kind of suck at kickball; my hopes of going pro were gone forever the moment I put all my might behind a kick and the ball sailed five feet…okay, really four.

Darn the kickball career, I guess I'll just have to be a super model instead.

Despite the crushing of my dreams, there is a bright side: kickball, you see, isn't really about kickball; it's about drinking. Playing kickball and not drinking is like living in Utah and not having more than one wife. Yes, it's just like that.

Erroneously, many people assume that wine and kickball don't mix: they think that kickball is a sport solely for beer and jell-o shots. To this I say, "Pish posh!"...only I don't actually use the words "pish posh" because that makes me look kind of lame...or British.

Kickball isn't just for beer and jell-o shots, it is also for wine: you just have to get a little creative.

Since most parks have a strict no glass rule, it's not like you can bring in your Riedel wineglasses and pop open a Pinot. Sure, you could bring in plastic wineglasses, but then you still have the problem of the wine bottle being glass. I suppose you could keep it hidden, in say a fashionable brown paper bag, but you still run the risk of discovery. Next thing you know, you are thrown in the slammer and, as the guy next to you tells you he is in for murder, you puff out your chest and say in your toughest voice, "Murder? That's nothing. I brought glass, yes, GLASS, to a park!" Thus, the solution is easy: boxed wine. I know, I know: it's not the greatest wine around, but sacrifices, people, sacrifices must be made.

There are even small boxes of wine, a bit bigger that a juice box, that are perfect for this very occasion: it's like a Hi-C…with just the high. So move over beer (not you jell-o shots, there's always room for jell-o shots); wine is coming soon to a kickball field near you.

Wine and kickball, just give it a whirl: in more than one way, it's helped me get to first base...okay third base.

For those of you unfamiliar with Boulder, Colorado, let me give you the low down: Boulder is home to the University of Colorado, where I graduated Summa Cum Laude in electrical engineering (by "Summa Cum Laude" I really mean "Summa Cum Drank A lot" and by "electrical engineering" I really mean "English Literature"). A town marked by eccentrics, Boulder is known as a place filled with hippies, tree huggers, and free spirits. It's also a place known for beer. In fact, some of the best beers in Colorado come from Boulder.

I always found this a bit futile: even though some of the best beers come from Boulder, most of the residents there (i.e., college students) can afford little more than a glass of Bud on draft or a twelve pack of Natural Light. In fact, I recall once having no money and drinking a Foster's someone left behind on a bar table. Then I went and got a Hepatitis shot.

But, Boulder is not just about beer; it's also about wine. In fact, I had a few glasses from the Boulder Creek winery last night (What? I wasn't drinking alone...my dogs were there!). I have to say, I was quite impressed. Normally, Colorado isn't known for wine...it's known for skiing, the Broncos, snow, and, of course, one particularly smart and gifted wine writer. Still, the thing is, it could be known for wine: if Washington, Oregon, California and New York didn't demand all the attention.

As long as they are still around, I supposed Colorado will just have to be fine with being both a beer and a wine region. But, as soon as those other states secede from the Union, we are totally taking over.

Last night, after watching my fifth Law and Order show for the day, I decided to unwind by reading a magazine. In it, there was an article about a character from the TV show Lost. I'm not really sure what the article was talking about. Being lost? Climbing palm trees? Getting sand in your shorts? I didn't really read it: daydreaming took over and I began to wonder what one thing I would bring with me in the event I was going to be lost on a desert island.

My initial thought was to take my cell phone, but I probably wouldn't have service in the middle of nowhere and, knowing me, my phone would be way over its minutes and, out of stubbornness, I'd refuse to use it; that stuff gets expensive, ya know? Then I thought about taking my toothbrush: dental hygiene is of great importance in my life. But, what good is a toothbrush without any toothpaste? I also considered taking my makeup bag, but who would I really need to look pretty for? Sorry random sea turtle, but I only like you as a friend.

Then, it hit me: I'd take a case of wine. You see, it's the perfect accessory for any desert island voyage. First of all, the wine gives you calories, which keeps you alive. Secondly, the plethora of wine bottles gives you numerous chances to send a message in a bottle. If the first five get returned to sender, just send out a sixth; one is sure to reach shore. It always works in the movies and THE MOVIES NEVER LIE. Last but not least, if you drink enough wine, you might even forget that you are stranded altogether. Yes, wine is that magical.

So, my friends, the moral of this story is simple: Wine, don't get lost on a desert island without it.