kerewin's whine cellar

Phoning It In

I just don't have it today. "It" being energy. Or focus. Or anything that would require me to string together a coherent sentence. Also I am currently hiding in the kitchen with all the other lights off because I didn't realize I would be home on Halloween (cancelled going to party of coworker of husband). Therefore I have no candy to hand out.

In lieu of anything interesting to say, this picture is funny:

I found it at Blogapotamus Rex. However, I have a sneaking hunch it was (or should have been) taken at Miss Doxie.

Self-Fulfilling Prophecy

I recently realized that I would be able to foretell the success of each day based on how easy it is to park in the lot of my favorite coffee shop. Today I waited a long period of time, blocking traffic behind me, for two different cars to leave the (almost empty) lot. They wanted to turn the same direction I was pointing and kept waving me on. One problem; I didn't need to continue on. I needed to GET COFFEE.

As I kept pointing to the parking lot as they waved me on, each of them looked, and then sent me a "thank you wave" for letting them out. Helllllo, I wasn't being kind.

I need to move nearer to a coffee shop with a better parking lot. Or you know, maybe walk to the coffee shop in the morning. This, of course, would be easier to do if I was capable of leaving my house (on foot) before I had to leave my house (in auto) for work.

Now, I am actually supposed to do some more work before I go to bed and since I only got home an hour ago, maybe I should do that. Or I should finish this bottle of Champagne I took home from our tasting tonight and then go to bed.

You guess which I am about to do.

EDITED TO ADD: Oh yeah, how did my day go? I admit the parking was much more difficult than my day was, however my day was a shitload longer than the parking. Now my cheeks are all flush and I am worried I have a fever. That or I am allergic to standing on my feet for 9 hours while pouring wine for a bunch of buyers.

Dear Extremely Stressful Week,

I fully admit that you are going to kick my ass this week. That's ok, some of it is self-induced. Since I am so willing to admit this, I would like to ask a favor of you. Would you please stop sending me vivid dreams about each and every thing going wrong? I know I invite this with my sleeping past my alarm every morning and then heading straight for the computer when I do eventually wake up. I know I have some disorder that prevents me from remembering that I leave myself work to do when I get home and am constantly surprised by this fact every morning. Still, I feel that I have an organized plan of attack for the week.

Don't talk to me about how you just gave me an extra hour of sleep this weekend. You and I both know that is just a bullshit lie to placate me. There are no extra hours, you merely changed the hours on the clock and that is going to wreck havoc with my body rhythms. This indicates to me that you are trying to fuck me twice over.

I feel really good about this little chat we had. Let's not have to talk again.

Signed,
The Whiniest Whiner in all of Whineville

I'm Highly Trained And Highly Motivated

Just In Case

From when we visited Susan in SF. Miss that.

You Better Not Cry

This spot had a little tear-jerker about love, family, and an elderly relative who may or may not have planned hisorher own funeral. It was sweet and loving, but since I am not the relative in question I decided to delete it, just in case I hurt anyone's feelings.

Instead I am going to bogart from a virtual stranger. Math Nerds are awesome.

These guys also have a website. Lots of funny other stuff in there, including a great rendition of "The Twelve Days of Christmas." You can also buy their songs on iTunes.

You're right Tracey, math nerds are hot.

Now, since I have been awake some 18+hours I am going to take my mush brain to bed.

Placeholder

Today: work, haircut, volunteer to help taste over 60 wines for taint, go to wine class, take test I didn't study for, die.

Tomorrow: 10x worse

Maybe That's A Bit Too Much Info

See what you have to look forward to?

By the way, this is hysterical:

I just read a Christopher Hitchens quote where he said that the four most overrated things are champagne, lobster, anal sex, and picnics. Although I am not a huge fan of the Hitch, I liked that sentiment very much. I would like to organize a picnic where everyone eats lobster and drinks champagne and butt-fucks the other guests and yawns mightily with the utter dreariness of it all. More champagne, my dear? More backdoor action? Oh dahling I couldn't possibly. This whole scene is so last year.

Anonymous

There are many topics I would love to delve into on my blog. First and foremost things about my personal life, my job, and my family (oh was that more than one idea?). I have considered emailing a friend and asking if I could Bogart that person's blog to post something more or less anonymous. Mostly because the stuff that others would be uncomfortable reading is some of the best stuff I have to offer.

While I was making dinner tonight I was thinking of things I could post for NaBloPoMo*. A thought burst into my head. Why not offer up this space as a place that other people can post the sort of thing they can't post on their own blogs? At least once a week, anyway.

So if you have something on your mind that you aren't comfortable putting your name on, how about emailing me? {kerewin gmail}

Rules you must follow:

1. The names of the people involved must be changed to Kelly, Kim, Chris, Chip, Leonidas, and/or Lafonda.


2. You can't use the names of real cities, you must use a pseudonym like Metropolis, Gotham, Bomont, Sin City, Townsville, or Springfield.


3. Nothing illegal

This is what I have to promise/offer:

1. This will be 100% anonymous.


2. Edited for grammar and punctuation (and possibly profanity if it is deemed excessive by me and I have a high tolerance).


3. The right to post or not post a story strictly based on my personal preference.


4. After a month I promise to delete your email, breaking the thread of our acquaintance, unless you turn out to be stalky or creepy in which case I retain the right to keep that email as potential evidence to said creepiness.

Tell your friends, spread the word.

*yeah, I know it starts in November. I decided to start from when I signed on.

Wait 'Til They Get Home

Best thing on YouTube. Ever.

We went out last night to see a band. They were fantastic and I am not saying that just because we know the lead singer. Had some very amusing conversation about oral sex with friends. It was such a great conversation that I intended on writing up some of the highlights. However, 20 seconds after we left the bar I couldn't remember the specifics of the conversation. Damn beer.

Talk About Over-Marketed

Said, It's A Long Way To The Top

Desperate times calls for desperate measures.

Sweet Dreams Are Made Of This

I took this picture the Summer of '01 in NYC. They were just these weird metal bell-shaped things in the middle of the crosswalk.

A miracle occurred today, I got out of bed after only hitting the sleep button twice. Then it took me about 2 hours to get out of the house, but I did get some actual work done beforehand. However, this wasn't the day for celebration.

First, I drove up to the coffee shop before heading into work. Nearing the coffee shop I was paying more attention to the car I thought was leaving the full parking lot than my driving. I just recently got a new(ish) car and it is an automatic instead of the stick that I am used to driving. So, without thinking, I used my left foot to lightly brake as I slowed down to turn in. All of a sudden the car just totally jerked to a complete stop. When you drive a stick your clutch foot has no subtlety. I must have put it down all the way to the floor. If it wasn't for the seatbelt I probably would have hit my head on the windshield.

My breast was totally squashed by the seatbelt, my neck and back were all out of wack and I think I tried to give myself whiplash. To top it all off, the car wasn't leaving it was merely backing into the spot, instead. So I had to continue on, looking as if I had squealed to a stop in the middle of the street for nothing.

Next, I was showing wine at a wine shop and a police car pulls up right outside, lights flashing. Hot, young policeman jumps out of the car and into the gym next door. He was in such a hurry that the car was still running, not to mention parked backwards and blocking traffic. In the meantime two other cop cars pulled up and completely blocked the way for cars trying to drive by. Five minutes later he comes back out with a woman in cuffs and blood running down one side of her face. One of the other cops seatbelts her into the back of his car and he drives off. Hot Cop has blood all over his hands and the owner of the wineshop offered his sink up to the policeman. Turns out it is his own blood. Gruesome!

After that I drove up to the top of Queen Anne hill to see an account and couldn't find parking. I started to drive around the block and saw a spot open up on the other side of the street. It required me to turn into a driveway to turn around. Backing up, I scraped the corner of the driveway as it turns back into regular sidewalk. After I parked I looked at the car and there is a tear on the material that blocks liquid from spitting off your tires onto the car (that's as close of a description for that part of the car as I can come up with, sorry). So, it isn't earth-shattering, but now my car isn't perfect anymore. Wah, me.

Maybe I should have hit the sleep button a few more times.

Blood From A Stone

I worked straight through to my wine senory evaluation class tonight. Barely got there in time due to crappy weather and crappier traffic. Class is going well (since you didn't ask), I am learning a lot. Today we concentrated on talking and thinking about balance, length, and complexity.

Because of lack of sleep, lack of dinner, and an oncoming sinus infection my ability to be sweet under pressure was minimal. There is a student who frickin' talks endlessly during class. Especially when the teacher asks people what flavors they are tasting in the wine. She never shuts up. Tonight she was sitting right behind me. Everytime she would talk, I would turn to my friend to say something and she would stop me with a gentle hand on my arm and say, "I know." I barely made it out of class without hurting her.

Seriously lady, the class isn't all about YOU.

However, I soothed my soul with some seriously amazing wine this evening. This was the final wine we tasted. I would highly recommend going out and finding this wine, stat.

Domaine Paul Pernot
2001 Volnay Carelles 2001
(premier cru from Burgundy)

From my notes: Perfumey, gamey nose with loads of violet and plum. Leads to a full mouthfeel of sour cherry and ripe cranberry. Has a light cinnamon spice. Great structure, long finish, medium to high complexity. Extremely elegant with fine grain tannins.

This retails for around $33/bottle and worth every penny. Go. Go now. (I tried to find a good bottle shot on the web, but I couldn't find anything worth using.)

How Many?

HowManyOfMe.com

There is: 1 person with my name in the U.S.A. How many have your name?

Thanks, SB!

Hold Me, I'm Scared

Federal authorities had found the page and placed Wilson on their checklist. They finally reached her this week in her molecular biology class. The 14-year-old freshman was taken out of class Wednesday and questioned for about 15 minutes by two Secret Service agents. The incident has upset her parents, who said the agents should have included them when they questioned their daughter.

Secret Service agents took a minor out of class and interrogated her without her parents because of her anti-Bush statements on her MySpace page. This scares the crap out of me. Even minors have civil liberties! Apparently this administration doesn't care about things like that. Where do we start worrying about these rights we keep losing?

What's next people? Should we be outraged or packing?

NaBloPoMo

Dear God, help you people.

The Dumas Family Grows Everyday

Ex-lawyer cuts ankle bracelet six hours early. Judge adds six more days to sentence.

A. Mark Vanderveen said he cut off his electronic-monitoring ankle bracelet "because he wanted to go on a bike ride." The lawyer had just five hours and 59 minutes to go before the end of his sentence of three months in prison and three months of home confinement.

Vanderveen, a former assistant Seattle city attorney, was convicted of failing to report $10,000 in legal fees for defending drug traffickers. The cash was stuffed in a plain brown paper bag and stashed in the Edmonds courthouse.

Seriously, not too bright.

It Just Keeps On Coming

Today I found myself way into Ballard and needing to get to Madison (two Seattle neighborhoods far apart from each other and not easily connected to anything else). On a whim I called my boss. Oh yeah, during rush hour on a Friday when timing was important.

Me: What do you think is the fastest way to get from "Ray's Boathouse to Rover's*?

Her: If the Fremont bridge isn't closed, that's the best way.

Me: It is down to one lane both ways. I considered it but since it is past 3:30, I thought about taking Leary to Aurora.

Her: When I take Aurora from there, I just drive up Market Street.

Me: Oh, I hate Market Street I refuse to drive on it.

I am so insane that there are streets I refuse to drive on. Market is apparently one of them. That turns into 45th St and I hate that one, too. No I-5 for me, ever. Whenever I make an exception, I find it bogged down and I want to kill myself. I won't take 405, I won't drive on 3rd Ave downtown. In fact, when downtown, I take one-way streets only. Going home I won't drive on Aurora north of 80th St. I refuse to take whatever street it is that leads to Northbound Aurora via the Battery Street tunnel.

Wow, I just put you to sleep didn't I? The scary thing is there are a bunch of other silly rules about driving I must adhere to. Parking rules. Speed rules. Shade for the car.

According to my boss, there are streets she won't drive on, either. I think she was trying to placate me.

*I seriously want that cookbook**

**The people at Rover's are among the nicest people in Seattle. All of them. I not just saying that because I sell them wine. Or because I am taking Cyril's wine class, either. Super, super people, amazing food, fantastic wine list.

This Is How Pathetic I am

For the last week everytime I fed the cats (twice a day, everyday) I noticed they were getting low on food. Everyday I told myself to get the food as soon as possible so they wouldn't run out. Today I noticed they only had enough for the morning meal. Did I remember to get food today, today the perfect day when one of my sales calls is right by the pet food store? No. I didn't remember until I got home from wine class well after the store was closed. Sorry kitties, you get grocery store food tonight.

I am even more pathetic than that. I refilled a sinus presciption by phone about three months ago. I didn't pick it up until today. Partially because I am lazy and partially because I misplaced my health card and waited a long time to ask for a replacement. It sat there so long they put it back into stock and had to re-do it when I came in today.

You want more pathetic? About the time I refilled my prescription I dropped off some dry cleaning. Have I picked it up, yet? I have not.

Did you want to know that every morning when my alarm goes off, I hit the sleep button for more than an hour? MORE THAN AN HOUR! WTF?

One morning this week I had to do a quick load of laundry so that I had clean underwear to wear. This wasn't a new factoid for me that morning, either. It was something I saw coming for a good 3-4 days. I even thought about doing laundry the night before, but thought, "Nah, I'll just toss something in the wash in the morning." Considering I just explained that I make sure I get up with barely even time to wash myself you can probably see that line of thinking is what makes me the winner I am today.

Ugh. I might need a keeper.

Don't Feed The Crazies

Foggy Redwood trees in Northern California on a road trip we took for our first anniversary.

Leavenworth, Washington is very cute. A fake Bavarian town with lots of cute knick knacks. This weekend I drove up there and met my parents for a picnic. I live about two and a half hours away, and my parents live about three and half hours away in a different direction. They thought it would be fun to meet up. I agreed, although I did suggest a place a bit closer for them. Either town is a bit of a one-trick pony, but that isn't really the point when your parents just want to see you for a few hours.

We met for a picnic and my parents brought grilled chicken and chicken wings. I brought caesar salad and baguette. Neither of us thought to bring chairs (it was raining when we got there, which meant the public tables weren't any good), plates, or silverware. I bought the paper plates and plastic forks for a billion dollars at the local convenience store. We ate under the lovely shade of each of our hatchbacks. We occasionally traded the one seat on top of the small ice chest I brought. The larger one my parents brought acted as the table. It stopped raining and started getting warm. I had high hopes for the day brightening up. Especially since I didn't bring a jacket or even warmish clothes. Since I already spent the debt of a small country on dishes, I didn't want to lose a kidney for an ugly sweatshirt I would never wear again. I was stuck with being marginally cold.

We were a good way through our lovely meal (and it was, really) when this hippie lady approached us. She was a local and wanted to let us know that there were lovely picnic tables along the riverbank in town. We thanked her for her assistance but mentioned we were trying to stay near the rain repellent effect of the cars. In the city this would be the clue for her to wish us well and move on her way.

Oh no.

She stayed for just ages talking to my parents. Just when conversation would die down, one of them would bring up something else to talk about. Apparently my ESP doesn't work since I was sending them "just shut up and let her leave" messages in my brain. Finally as she was winding down, saying she was going to leave, my mother offered her food. Now normally I consider it rude to eat in front of someone who has nothing to eat but after all, she invited herself over while we were eating. So of course she politely declined and left.

Oh no, that was a lie. She stayed and ate. And stayed.

When she finally left, I turned to my Mom and said, "Mom, don't feed the crazies."

My father heartily agreed. So as we were walking around town he didn't strike up full conversations with strangers passing by. Except that he did. SEVERAL times. Each time I would shake my head and think mean thoughts. After the third time I finally said, "Dad, don't feed the crazies."

I don't think he quite got it. My Mom thought it was funny, though.

Don't Get Too Comfortable

I just watched yesterday's The Daily Show with Jon Stewart with David Rakoff as guest. Very rarely do I see a guest who is quicker with the comeback than Jon, but David was amazing. I think my favorite part was where he told about Robert Knight's (memory don't fail me now!) argument that HIV is caused much less by heterosexual contact because, "the vagina can take a lot of punishment." I thought Jon was going to fall out of his seat. After it was over, I immediately rewound it and watched it again. It was even funnier the second time.

Of course, I had an idea that David Rakoff would be funny since one of my favorite This American Life shows is "Office Politics" when David explains the holidays of publishing assistants.

(David's part is the second piece,around 28 minutes in. Although the whole show is very funny and interesting.)

Best Line: "Paying the bill we stumbled out into the street and back to our apartments where we spent the rest of the night jealously reading the manuscripts of those who actually wrote and didn't just drink about it."

What Do You Say?

There's this thing that happened today, this thing I don't know if I should talk about. I keep finding myself hitting this wall over and over. I worry a lot about boring people but I also like my job and my friends.

I read something this morning that full on caught my attention and I can't shake it even now. On Wednesday two women pled guilty to the bombing of the University of Washington's Horticulture Center in 2001. I went to high school with the sister of one of those women. We were 12 and she was 8ish? I occasionally still send Christmas cards to her parents.

All I can think about is what a terrible tragedy this is for everyone concerned. It also reminds me that it has been months and months since I was in contact with my friend. I definitely don't condone this kind of destruction to make a point, no matter how valid. I also know that this whole matter affects people who are very dear to me. My heart aches for them, for all of them; friend, sister, parents, siblings. I just don't have the words.

Nesting

I took this when I lived in Argentina. The family I lived with had a party out on their farm. Sergio, one of the son-in-laws, took a siesta after dinner.

It is getting colder here so I spent about 2 hours making French Onion soup tonight for dinner. Of course that doesn't even begin to cover the time I spent making chicken stock on Saturday. What does that have to do with French Onion Soup, you ask? I needed the chicken stock to use as the base for beef stock which is the base for French Onion Soup, so there. I made the beef stock on Sunday and also some other sauces for use the rest of the week. Then last night I went and made homemade pasta sauce, and banana bread. So the sink is full of dishes and the house is full of wonderful smells. And the soup? A. MA. ZING.

I think I was encouraged to do some weekend cooking after reading Julie and Julia. I picked it up because of a hand-written blurb at my local bookstore. I didn't even know this was a book based on the blog run by the author. Which I am not posting to because she doesn't update it anymore. Go buy the book, it is awesome.

This is my holy shit note: Last Thursday I had a wine vendor in my car. A wine vendor from NEW ZEALAND. Because of some of the advice I received from the dear internets (thanks styro!) I decided to feel this person out on the likelihood of getting some sort of stipend to cover my registration fee, or something. Turns out, she might be able to help me. New Zealand might be back on.