I didn't learn how to open a wine bottle until I was 25 years old, when my roommate at the time found my bashful, flirty-eyed appeals to any (preferably male) party-goer offensive, so she set out to teach me how.And the only way I can achieve success is to harken back on my days of teaching Red Cross swimming. Every time I open a bottle of wine (which is not all that often...I still utilize my fluttered-eyelash technique) I think about Elementary Backstroke.
Soldier...monkey....bird. Soldier...monkey...bird. Soldier...monkey...bird.It might be weird, but I say, "Whatever works." [Or perhaps "whatever floats your boat" is more appropriate?]Just don't drink and DIVE.
[Or perhaps "whatever floats your boat" is more appropriate?]