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I'm too full to sleep. I hate being full, really.

Well that was last night. But, I decided to go to bed despite being full. Today, though, I came to the realization of why I like to eat. My family has trained me to eat well. For us, eating is fun. Really, really fun. Take for example, yesterday. Yesterday, my aunt and uncle wanted a bottle of wine. Well, when normal people want a bottle of wine, they go to the liquor store. Or, if you don't live in Colorado, you can even just go to the grocery store. These places have fine bottles of wine (I've been told), no different than anywhere else. But, no grocery store was good enough for our wine consuming experience. Instead, we went directly to the source: Chateu St Michele. Yes, we went to the winery to buy the wine. We walked in and were offered a glasses of chardonay and just browsed the nice little shop deciding what to buy and whether or not we wanted to go in on a tasting (we decided not to). Two bottles of wine were enough.

Example number 2: Last night for dinner, we went to a fabulous fish restaurant. Well, actually it wasn't that fabulous, but it certainly had potential. There were about 20 fresh fish on the menu served pretty much any way one's little taste buds desired. I chose grilled with tomato relish (which, unfortunately wasn't very good). Then, after being full enough, we ordered dessert. I took the opportunity thinking that people were going to share with me. "Unfortunately," I had to eat the entire upside down apple pie with pecan topping and cinnamon ice cream all by myself.

This morning I woke up early with my grandma. We went through my photographs and she enjoyed them very much. She invited me to go out and buy rolls with her. We only eat good bread in my family--not to be a bread snob or anything, but I think I actually am. Anyway, we needed rolls. Again, most people would just go to any old grocery store and buy a loaf of wonder bread. Not us. Instead, we drove about 10 minutes to another town to find the best bread selection. This reminds me of Christmas. Somehow, my grandmother found the only bakery open on Christmas in the uber-Christian town of New Orleans. She ordered rolls (regular old dinner rolls--that were really, really good) to be baked on Christmas and we went to pick them up that morning. We also bought a croissant and shared it on the car ride home. My grandma and I have good food adventures.

Now, we are packing up our bags to, ultimately, buy fish. We will have fresh fish for dinner tomorrow night (hopefully). Again, any regular family (are you sensing a theme?) would go to the grocery store and buy a nice slab of frozen filet. Not us. We are driving to a town on the coast that's a bit under three hours away. We will stop and have a picnic on the beach when we get there. My grandma woke up early to make roast beef (yeah, I thought it just came in little slices from the deli case, too) for the sandwiches, by the way. Then, we are staying in a little hotel this evening and waking up before dawn to get on a fishing boat ALL DAY LONG. Yes, we are catching our own fish. My aunt is making me try this fishing thing, though I'm not sure it's going to go over well with my overly sensitive emotions. The limit is 9 fish per person. Thus, we could potentially come home with 90. I am planning on catching my quota. Apparently, it is rockfish season--bottom fish, as I'm told. So, I guess that's what's for dinner tomorrow night.

It's on to breakfast. Who knows what fabulousness is in store for me now.