I carefully start to crush the partly noble rotted Viognier.
i know, calling one's self a goddess is over and done--but once you read about the careful attention devoted to preparing my feet and legs for the grape crushing, you may allow me the conceit. you may even find yourself secretly jealous and wish you had such an opportunity. i would, if i were you.
when the grapes are ready to be stomped there is an elaborate preparation ritual Gerald has set up for me. first, i must thoroughly scrub myself down in the shower, paying careful attention to my toes and the spaces in between. upon exiting the shower, gerald presents me with a pair of new socks (heaven!) and my rubba slippas, so as to keep the clean tootsies as, well, clean as possible. i dress and head down and out of the townie to our little backyard patch. as the grapes cool in a big tub, gerald and i sort through them, picking out the stray matter that doesn't belong and weed out the grapes that shouldn't be there. as soon as the stainless steel bucket is filled with enough product, gerald finishes the preparation of the feet.
first, he pours a mild antibacterial solution over my feet. then my feet and legs are scrubbed again with a sponge and more solution. at last my feet are ready for the grapes. here you see the common wife and mother of two completely transformed into the goddess of crush.
hail the great kali--crusher of grapes, stomper of seeds and stems! all vinifera trembles at your terrible justice!
and so i carefully trample the grapes until the grapes are crushed and for the most part, removed from the stems. no, my legs don't turn purple, but i do tend to end up very sticky and another shower is necessary. i can tell you there is no better feeling than being the center of all the careful, ritual like cleaning and being outdoors with my husband on a beautiful day, stomping grapes!