I just found out about Chardonnacea. Apparently, I have a bad case of it. A helpful reader pointed it out to me, but I suspected all along that I was contaminated with some sort of icky (and incurable) condition.
I went online to check resources and look it up, you know, for symptoms and things.
Not one single word written about this horrid condition called Chardonnacea.
So, once again, I will have to be the pioneer in my field (the field is “expertise”) and do even more research and inventing of words and meanings and definitions and such, so that I can inform you, my devoted reader, about Chardonnacea.
Chardonnacea noun.: The condition experienced by women in their 30’s (okay, fine: 40’s) who have had a difficult day with their own children and so, to help them cope, are compelled to reach for a bottle (okay, fine: two) of Chardonnay. Preferably from France, or California, but Trader Joe’s budget wine also qualifies in a pinch.
Some signs that Chardonnacea may be imminent: twitching, looking at one’s watch to see if it is 5 PM yet (okay, fine: 4 PM), opening the fridge repeatedly to verify that the wine is, indeed, chilling, popping a Toy Story or Cars video in the VCR/ DVD player to buy oneself a piece of quiet.
Chardonnacea may strike groups of mothers, or it can strike one hapless soul all by herself. Chardonnacea is not picky.
Cures, how to get rid of Chardonnacea, etc: You can’t. You must embrace it, and repeat the words, “Mom’s had a rough day. Mom deserves diamonds and a million dollars, but Mom will be happy with two buck Chuck.”
(“Mapping Out Vineyards”)