October 11, 2010
I always thought I was a beach girl until Matt started taking me to the mountains. Now it seems my loyalties are divided. Sun and surf, versus leaves and crisp air… how’s a girl to choose? (Fortunately, one of the best things about living in NC is that I don’t have to – 4 hours to the beach, an hour and a half to the mountains. Road trip central.)
We had a bunch of friends come up with us to the mountain house this weekend – Jason, Minez, Jamie and Zac and Jacob and Akanksha. Friday night, Jamie and I threw together a feast for the masses including the most amazing marinated chicken – a recipe I stole from the Arnolds after they debuted it at their tailgate – followed by delicious handcrafted mojitos by Jacob. We passed the evening circled up playing Kings around the huge circular table made by Pa with its trademark lazy susan. Bet Pa never foresaw that as being one its many uses! (Hi Nanta + Pa!) (They don’t really have internet access, do they?)
Saturday, after brunch cooked by my hubby, we headed off to one of our favorite spots – a tucked away riverbed with ginormous boulders that gradually ascends to a small waterfall and a flat creekbed. Perfect for picnics… or maybe just sitting and pondering life if you had, sayyy, just eaten 2 lbs of Neese’s country sausage and couldn’t fathom the idea of eating again for eons. The hike isn’t too strenuous, but the boulders provide challenges the whole way – sometimes forcing you to jump, leap, grab someone’s hand, crawl or even pull-up. (When it came time to do a pull up on a rock, us smart females found another path up the side of the creek bed.)
After the hike, the girls attempted a shopping trip to the outlets – although in what was probably an act of intervention from the wallet gods – we were so worn out from the hike, that by the time we got to the 3rd store, we were lazily picking up clothes and going "ehh… don’t feel like trying it on." We rejoined the boys, who had been watching college football (Yea USC!) and headed out to Canyons, a local favorite for dinner.
Canyons is known for it’s amazing sunset views (which did not disappoint – see below) and, on fairly regular occasions, a good live music venue. Tonight we were treated to the musical styling of the winner of Irish Idol, who was apparently kicking off his American tour in the high country.
Isn’t it weird how people with accents when they talk have almost no trace of accent when they sing? That has always boggled my mind.
Anyways, as it was, our group simply was a little too worn out, and a little not drunk enough to appreciate the musical styling of this fine gent… we were all feeling a bit more Simon than Paula. We left a few songs in, got ice cream and shuffled home early.
We wrapped up Sunday with a leisurely walk around Bass Lake, and packed up the house – probably for the season. Every time we’re up there, Matt and I swear we’re going to go up more often but weekends seem to fill up as quickly as they show up. It’s hard to get away from it all when you keep scheduling it all! I think it was a much needed and well timed break for all of us – everyone getting a little burnt out on work and routines (or starting a new one on Monday, yay Akanksha!) but the "break" of the holidays still feeling far enough away. I know for me it came at a good time, and there’s few things that restore my soul more than sitting around a table (or crawling up a rock ledge, as the case may be) with people I love.
July 10, 2010
I made a bit of a last minute decision and bought a flight to go home to Pittsford for my ten year high school reunion.
Ten years! It doesn’t seem possible. Imagine a decade from now…. 2020. Doesn’t that seem like eons from now? Like, we’ll have flying cars and self-cleaning houses (oooh!) in the oh so futuristic ten years from now, right? Ten years goes fast.
The reunion was so much fun – it was an odd mixture of people who came, I guess since it was in the middle of summer, and a fairly small representation of my class. Maybe forty people? I think we graduated with about 250. It was kind of nice that nobody seemed to have their entire high school posse represented so we all just sort of floated around and visited with each other. Or maybe it was just after ten years, no one remembered or cared who belonged to what clique anymore. No one seems that different from ten years ago, but everyone seems to be doing good things with their lives.
I only took one picture the entire time, and it was in the cab on the way there. This is my best friend, Krissy, and I. We met in eighth grade, in a class called Enrichment. I don’t remember what we were supposed to actually do during Enrichment, but if passing notes was the point, then we were top of the class. We originally bonded over our musical preferences. While everyone else was listening to either Pearl Jam, Dr. Dre or Dave Matthews Band, we had both (separately) discovered a love for the oldies station. We had certain songs we’d call each other when we heard them on the radio: Little Red Riding Hood and Snoopy vs. The Red Baron stand out in my mind.
In other words, we were pretty dorky. But we managed to turn out okay.
10 years ago: Spring Break in Myrtle Beach, April 2000. My sister, Katie, and friends Jamie, (me), Krissy and Tamara. And a waiter who wanted to immortalize himself in this shot too. I don’t think we’ve changed too much in ten years, except that no one parts their hair in the middle in the anymore. So late 90s.
I feel like the advent of Facebook (and the ease of keeping in touch over instant messenger, email, texting, cell phone/no long distance) has made reunions a little bit anticlimactic. I’ve kept in good touch with my closest friends from high school through these mediums, but I also have the ability to spy on almost anyone I’m slightly curious about from high school or other past stages of life via Facebook. There were very few people who I saw at the reunion who I didn’t have some semblance of what was going on in their life already. In fact, I found myself in conversations mentioning something about someone’s life and realizing I only knew that because I had seen it as a Facebook status. Since it happened back to me, I think that’s okay. For example, congratulating someone on a baby they just had when you probably haven’t had an actual conversation with them since sometime around graduation day? Thanks to Facebook. I obviously love the connections that internet/technology allow me to make and keep, but it certainly ruins the “where are they now” moments that reunions are supposed to have. I know exactly where they are; their Foursquare check in just told me.
What was the last reunion you had? Did you attend?
April 1, 2010
The only thing better than spending an entire day touring Sonoma vineyards… is doing it twice in a row.
Thursday dawned, and we were awake (again) to see it. Although I think we slept in til seven this time. By the time DJ, our driver, had backed the Suburban up the long, windy driveway we were ready and waiting for our second day of tours to start.
Breakfast of Champions
We started off at Benzinger, which included a tram tour. Personally, I had a bit of a rough day – criss-crossing the rough terrain of northern California in the back of an SUV left me car sick for the first time in my entire life! When we pulled up to Benzinger, the only thing I wanted to drink was a Sprite out of the vending machine. Unfortunately, the car sickness stuck with me through the next 3 places so I can’t tell you much about the wine, just about the vineyards.
Benzinger was awesome, and definitely a place to go if you ever go out to Sonoma. The tram tour was educational without being boring. We got a tour of the grounds, and they explained their biodynamic garden philosophies which were really incredible – it’s obvious they’ve put a lot effort and money into making their vineyards a sustainable place and I think their success speaks to the idea that you reap what you sow And they sow some yummy grapes. While I didn’t try any that day, fortunately I found a bottle of Benzinger Chardonnay at my local Total Wine when I got back and it was every bit as yummy as my friends had promised.
Various of Views of Benzinger
I’ve always bought wines based on the label (and the price), but understanding where wine comes from and how it grows, and how things like soil, or climate or lifespan affect the grape and thus the wine appeals to me in the same way that understanding where food comes from and how it grows. I don’t fancy myself ever becoming a wine snob (although I do catch myself swirling and sniffing on a regular basis now….) but I like understanding things, and knowing why I like what I like and why I don’t what I don’t. I like understanding what maloactic fermentation is, and that a peachy fume blanc doesn’t really have peach in it.
After Benzinger, we went on to Chateau St Jean which was one of my least favorites of the day – it was more your typical chateau-y looking vineyard. Then our driver asked us if we would be okay going to a really unique place that was a reds only… and I was ready to take a breather (since I’m not a reds only kinda gal), so we went on to Kaz. Kaz was an experience. According to the red drinkers, it was not the best wine they had all week, but the experience was totally unique, in that the wine came straight out of a barrel into your glass or bottle.
After Kaz, we went on to a place called Family Vineyards. Pam and I had actually taken this off our list, because it looked like it was just a house on the road that represented five or six vineyards – and no actual vineyards there. I ended up being very glad our driver had put it back on the list. First of all, our pourer Stephanie was hilarious… she entertained us to no end. I had made a spontaneous recovery from my car sickness and was ready to taste again. Lucky me, because Family Vineyards ended up being home of the Sparkling. I love me some sparkly stuff, ya’ll. Since we were the only ones there, Stephanie tailored the tasting to us – mixing and matching from what she had on hand, diverting from the actual tasting menu – I had three white sand three sparkling, while some of the other girls had more reds, roses and just a few sparklings. I had two sparklings there I had never had – a raspberry flavored Framboise and an almond flavored Almonide. I bought them both to bring home, they were that good . Stephanie also had us do a few “experiments” – drinking a Zin, eating a piece of dark chocolate and trying the Zin again to see how it tasted, and then repeating that with a Late Harvest. Listen, any place that’s going to combine chocolate in its tasting experience gets two pinkies up from this girl.
After Stephanie declared that she was all out of experiments, we headed down the street to Kunde. I liked Kunde, but like Chateau St Jean, it felt more commercialized and our pourer gave us the hard sell on the wine club. This was the first place out of anywhere we went to where we felt like were being “sold” to (and consequently, we didn’t end up buying anything…)
All of us at Kunde
After Kunde, our driver sat in the parking lot deliberating something… then pulled out his cell phone and made a quick call. “Ok, we’re in” he said, explaining that the next place we were visiting was rather picky about large groups and often turned down drivers with groups. When we got to VJB Cellars, I couldn’t help but feeling like The Godfather himself had waved us into his home. VJB was owned by a sweet little Italian gentleman who regaled us with stories of Italy, wine and “the familia.” Even though I’m not a huge fan of reds, I drank every single taste he poured… I’m not sure if it was out of respect or fear! I ended up buying his Primitivo to bring home to Matt. We stayed there until the sun set and until our lovely host, Vittorio, had run out of stories.
Dinner on Thursday night was shrimp and salmon on the grill by Emily, fried goat cheese salad by me and molten lava cakes by Jenny. We did not hurt for calories that evening, let’s just say that. We had a bottle of Prosecco from VJB Cellars to go along with our dinner.
We sat around the table, reminiscing about stories from the ten years we’ve known each other, finishing each other’s sentences and laughing in anticipation as someone would begin rehashing a story we had heard before. There’s no better way to end a day than laughing so hard your stomach hurts and Prosecco nearly comes out your nose (ow) with your best friends.
Thank you, Sonoma, for another beautiful day.
March 31, 2010
The sun rises on Jimtown Cottage. Next door, a rooster crows. (Seriously.) And we are all tucked in our snuggly, warm beds, while visions of zinfandels danced in our head.
No, wait. Scratch that. We were all lying awake staring at the clock since about 4 am, still on East Coast time.
By 6 am, we had all gathered in the living room, lamenting over the lack of coffee and decided to pile into our mini-van for a Starbucks/Grocery store run. With a little advanced planning (and some crazy Excel spreadsheets), we divided and conquered the grocery store. Groceries for 3 dinners, 3 breakfast and snacks for 5 girls? Purchased in less than an hour, for about $45/person. Amazing.
With our provisions secured, we headed back to the house to wait our driver with a warm-up glass of wine on the porch.
(Also, we were really pleased with the driving services, but I’ll save my review for that on yelp. However, if you’re going to Sonoma look up Terrific Tours.)
Pam and I had researched the vineyards (Excel, again) and had narrowed down a list of 70 recommendations into approximately 12 vineyards . We turned the list over to our driver who made some tweaks according to their experiences and connections. I was totally pleased with the choices they came up with, even though it changed about half of the places we had researched.
The day was nothing short of magical. Standing shoulder to shoulder at bars that ranged from beautiful, polished oak overlooking lush green rolling vineyards and palatial Italian terraces to old wooden plank bars in a farmhouse to wine glasses held directly under a spout in a barrel. We visited seven vineyards today: Ferrari-Carano, Sbraglia Family, Preston, Bella, J. Rankin, Pedroncelli, and Coppola.
My favorite thing about vineyards in Sonoma was how tucked away they all were. Without GPS or an experienced driver I’m not sure we would have found half of them. One of my favorites was Preston, which was a beautiful farm house and an organic farm. Here we sat outside (despite the cold) and ate our Oakville Grocery sandwiches accompanied by purring, friendly cats.
Preston Farms Vineyard
Um, scoos me, what u pack me for lunch?
Another favorite, J. Rankin was basically a shed with a wildly hilarious pourer and a beautiful dog named Shelby who recognized five dog lovers and literally threw herself at our feet. The vintner is a current ICU nurse, who makes wine in his “free time.” I loved the places were making wine was more about the passion than the pennies.
Around 3:30, we left J Rankin and our driver asked us if we wanted to make one more stop. Most of our visits had been about 45 minutes, so I’m sure he figured he had plenty of time for us to make one more stop. We agreed (of course) and he pulled up to Francis Ford Coppola. As a downpour began, he pulled us up to the door and we slipped inside to safety. This was the most crowded place we had been to, which is not surprising given it’s a little more well-known. We had to wait for a seat, which is apparently more than standard for normal in-season, but we had been spoiled by visiting places that were practically empty when we arrived.
Our pourer started off with the 5 wines on the tasting menu. We struck up a conversation with a couple next to us, and when they stood up to vacate their seats they waved us into their spot. In the midst of our conversing with the fellow patrons, we had lost the attention of our pourer. But at this point, we had become more interested in each other than the wine being poured. Once back in the hot seat, we turned our focus back to the task at hand.
“Have you all tried this one?” the pourer asked. I looked at the bottle, and didn’t recognize it. “No?”
“Well the couple who was sitting here wanted you to try it.” He poured me a glass, and it was one of the most delicious wines I had had all day. I couldn’t find the bottle on the tasting menu, until I finally found it on the list of wines for sale as one of the pricier selections. WELL. Good to know that there is a difference between the seventy dollar bottle and the twenty dollar bottle. Our enthusiasm won him over, and he came back with wine after wine for us to try as the tasting room emptied out.
All of a sudden the door flung open, allowing light to pour forth into the dark tasting room and our driver anxiously peered inside. “I just wanted to make sure you guys were still in here!” Once we got back to the car, we understood his worry – 2 hours has passed during our free-for-all of tasting!
The rest of the ride home we laughed and giggled and compared notes about our favorites. (My faves: Ferrari-Carano Fume Blanc and Coppola Sofia Blanc de Blanc.) Our driver dropped us off, and carried our armloads of souvenirs inside. We prepped dinner (spinach dip by Pam, steak and couscous salad by Jess) and rehashed the day. After dinner we attempted to watch American Idol, but it wasn’t long before our heavy eyelids won over. One by one we drifted off to bed, eager to repeat the day’s events again tomorrow.
Souvenirs.
March 30, 2010
I can’t believe here we are FINALLY here! And not just because we left Raleigh 15 hours ago “finally here” but because we’ve been planning this trip for a mere 5 years “finally” here.
Highlights of traveling across the country with your best friends? You can fall asleep on your seatmates shoulder with your mouth wide open, drool on yourself, and wake up without that awkward “my bad” moment. They also set aside you peanuts while you’re sleeping. And watch your bags so you don’t have to try and do the suitcase into stall, twirl around, suitcase back against the door, where does my purse go now?, dance in the bathroom stall that you have to do when you’re solo.
Also: memo to RDU TSA. I’m a little worried that the fact that we put a Tupperware of flour and of sugar through your x-ray machines and nary an eyebrow was raised. I mean, I would have felt a little safer had you at least asked us what that white powdery substance was.
Anyways, we landed in San Fran and the southeast winos awaited the arrival of our northeast representation, Pam. Much hugging, screaming and public jumping up and down ensued.
We went to pick up our rental car – which was supposed to be an Impala, to the delight of Emily, but with a little wink-wink the Hertz lady hooked us up with a mini-van for no extra charge. Not gonna lie, we were all pretty psyched about that guy. Even the aforementioned Chevy dealer appreciated the extra cargo space. (By the way, it kinda drives like a dream. Rethinking my “Will Never Drive a Mini-Van” pledge.)
Sweet, sweet ride.
Everywhere you look…
Through San Fran, across the Golden Gate Bridge (cue many rounds of the Full House theme song and varoius qutes… “Haaave mercy” and “Hoooow Rude), and then an hour north to Sonoma County. I’ve never been to California, and I know the topography is varied but I’d like to go on record to say Northern California? Gorgeous. I have a crush on you, Northern Cali, with all your green rolling hills, and Happy Cows munching grass, and oh yea, your vineyards. As soon as we got about 15 minutes outside of San Fran, the vineyards were everywhere. We passed Kendall Jackson, which made us a little nostalgic. KJ was the wine of choice on our every Wednesday night date to Filling Station our senior year, such that by spring semester we’d arrive to FS to find a table for six with 2 chilled bottles of KJ waiting for us.
The Winos: Now & Then (2004, 2009)
(Top pic: Jess, Pam, Shelby, Emily, Jenny, Megs)
The highlight of 2005 was returning to homecoming, going to Filling Station and having a waiter holler across to us “It’s the KJ girls!”
Fame’s kinda nice, ya’ll.
Wednesday night dinners (or “Winesday night” as we called them) were really my first introduction to wine, and we all started off with Chardonnay. Our tastes have changed so much, I’m not sure any of us are regular Chard drinkers anymore but KJ still takes us back to our roots. (A little wino history for you there.)
Pam had found our house, “Jimtown Cottage,” on one of those vacation rental by owners page and we didn’t know much about it except that it was red and out in the country.
These were both accurate, but the pictures online didn’t do it justice. (Pretty much the reverse of all our Post Exam experiences where picture online shows in-ground pool… you arrive to find hole in the backyard with blue tarp and a garden hose nearby…) We gasped, and squealed, threw our bags down and basically acted out Real World Sonoma County choosing rooms.
Jimtown Cottage. Adorable, I know.
I’ve never been in a rental home this lovely. Must be visitors to Sonoma County are slightly more considerate of their surroundings than those who patron Ocean Ave, Myrtle Beach, SC? Just a hunch.
I want this to be my Wine Country Souvenir. How can we make that happen?
At this point, although it was 5:00 West Coast time, our tummies were growling so we headed to downtown Healdsburg for dinner. We went to a restaurant’s called Willi’s which was small plates style. We ordered seven small plates for the five of us, and a bottle and a half of wine. I forgot to take my camera out in the restaurant, or here’s where I would be posting totally self-indulgent pictures of some really incredible food. You’re disappointed, I know. (Don’t worry… I made up for it at every other meal.) We also tried the wine from the vineyard across the street from our cottage, Stonestreet Wines Chardonnay. (Right, I know, I told you we don’t really drink Chards anymore… well, I lied. Get over it.) I also talked the girls (who are mostly Red drinkers) into trying one of my fave types of wine, a Gewürztraminer. (Winos, when you read this, do any of you remember what vineyard that was?) We bought a half bottle of that and it disappeared instantly. They hated it, clearly. Gertzies are usually very crisp and clear, and go perfect with spicy food… so the Thai calamari plus Gertzie was a perfect combo.
Oh, I’m sorry. I thought this was my food blog for a second. Woops.
We wrapped up our delicious meal at Willi’s and headed back home to get some rest for our big day of vineyards to come. Still on East Coast time, we were lights out by 9, sleeping with the excited anticipation of a little kid on Christmas Eve. That kinda happy.
January 21, 2010
What does one do when the state that claims “The Greatest Snow on Earth” delivers on its promise….
and then some?
Our trip to Utah was one for the books. On the day we arrived there, the bases of the resorts we were looking at – Park City, Solitude and Canyons – weren’t so great. But the morning we woke up to hit the slopes? Why, he-lloooooo snow. All in all, we ended up getting somewhere around 30 inches over the course of 3-4 days. Our first trip out to Utah 2 years ago, I was sold on this snow. Give me west coast snow any day. But this time we had powder. Big white fluffy doesn’t hurt to fall down in powder. And lots of it. I have never experienced anything like this.
The first couple runs we’d do each day – where no one else had gone down the hill – were brutal. The snow was so deep, you had no choice but to just bomb it as fast as you could. If you fell, you were basically sitting in a bath tub of snow and trying to lift yourself up. It made a couple of those early morning half marathon training runs feel like a piece of cake.
But it was man, it was fun.
Snow…. and sun! It wasn’t every day we got treated to the blue skies, too. Park City Resort, afternoon.
Is that Idaho I see?
Boards at Rest.
Yes, that would be my 6’4” husband in waist-deep snow. Crazy.
Can we go back now?
January 18, 2010
On our first full day in Park City, we looked at the snow bases of the major resort and scowled. It wasn’t quite where we wanted it to be. I know, I know… here we are flying hundreds of miles, leaving a part of the country where ice granules are constitute your winter sport base material and we were denying ourselves a day on the slopes. But, we heard a rumor big snow was coming and we were willing to be patient. With that decision made, we pondered what to do with ourselves.
It was Sunday. There was football on. That decision, for the boys, was made rather quickly.
It was a beautiful, almost warm (by Utah winter standards) day and Jamie and I decided we would both be perfectly content to sling our Rebels on our neck and set off to explore the city by foot and f-stop.
I adore this little city. Although it is quite a tourist mecca, between the ski slopes and Sundance, it still manages to keep a quaint, sleepy, Main Street feel to it. (A Main Street with million dollar residences, but a Main Street nonetheless.) One of my favorite things about it is the town lift – a chair lift that brings people straight off the slopes into town. As we walked along a side street, many restaurants had skis and boards stacked outside as people took a break from the slopes for a slice of pizza or hot sandwich.
Loves this city. Loves it even more with a sunshiney day and a best friend and a very large SD card. Sigh.
January 17, 2010
It’s always something of a gamble, telling your friends about your favorite eating establishment. For most people, part of what it so delicious is the nostaliga that is so intricately woven into the flavors of the food that you begin to lose the ability to describe what exactly it is that makes you love it so much. I always feel this way describing Pontillo’s, my hometown’s local pizza place, because I know that it’s magic is one part grease puddles on curled up pepperoni’s and one part memories of ordering pizza at everything from slumber parties to after-prom parties.
When we first met our friends Zac and Jamie, they would tell us about this place they loved to eat in Utah called “Cafe Rio.” To me, it didn’t sound like that big a deal. How much different could it be then Q’doba or Moe’s, or any of the other countless Mexican restaurants that we have in Winston? I mean, c’mon. It’s a burrito, not your first love.
When we first flew out to Utah in 2008 with Zac and Jamie, Cafe Rio was on the to do list.
When we flew out to Utah this week with Zac and Jamie, I made it abundantly clear that I wanted to visit Cafe Rio, not once but twice. They happily obliged, grinning ear to ear, knowing that Rio had another victim, hook, line and sinker.
Guys, I’m sorry for any shred of disbelief I ever held about its deliciousness and I’ll be taking a vat of this creamy tomatillo sauce home in my carry-on now, thanks.
How can a salad be so very magical?
Don’t mess with this guy. That’s an empty burrito tin there.
Que Deliciosa.
January 1, 2010
Matt and I drove straight home from Winston, and made it all the way there in a little more than eleven hours. As nice as it was to get it out of the way in one day, I knew that when I went back by myself (with the pupster) I’d want to break it into a 2 day trip. Fortunately for me, the roads from Pittsford to Winston are littered with far-flung friends and relatives. (I meant littered in the nicest way possible, far flung friends and relatives.) I decided to stop in Fredericksburg overnight, which added an extra hour to both days, but meant that I’d get to stay with my aunt, who is both a gourmet cook, a heavy handed wine pour and a fabulous storyteller. She’s also got two wall-to-wall bookshelves and heavy slant towards cookbooks and food writers (Michael Pollan, Nina Plack, Mark Bittman.) In other words: oasis, much?
I got on the road Wednesday after a late start, delayed by the threat of snow flurries. With Buddy buckled in the back seat, a bag of road trip snacks (grapes, apples, and Wegmans gummis) besides me, and a fully charged iPod we set out. Using a map. That’s right, I decided to forego the all-knowing TomTom, which wanted me to take major highways to F-burg, in favor of the route my Dad highlighted on a map 11 years ago when he first took me down to look at Wake Forest. While you give up 70 mph speed limits, you get New York Finger Lakes, rural farm lands in Pennsylvania and horse country in Virginia in exchange. The 35-mph towns would probably frustrate most people, but I rarely do road trips with a deadline in mind with my propensity to stop for Mt. Dew refills every 2 hours anyways.
I arrived in Fredricksburg after 8 hours on the road, and I was welcomed by my Aunt, her excited Cairn Terrier and her affectionate one-eyed kitty (a rescue from a kitty mill). She poured me a glass of wine, as I hung over the counter in her kitchen and watched her put dinner together – roasted Cornish Game Hen, cranberry rice pilaf and roasted beets and shallots over arugula and goat cheese. (Yes, Mom, I asked if I could help and I did put my dishes in the dishwasher.) After dinner, we curled up near a roaring fire and she entertained me with family stories, including telling me about my Grandparent’s first encounter, first date and marriage proposal. We talked until I had to prop my eyelids up, and then I shuffled off to bed. That night I slept under a quilt made by my grandmother, flanked on either side of me with my own little pup dog and one-eyed Kee Cat.
I barely got on the road the next morning, held up by more ice, more stories from my Aunt and the most delicious latte. I did finally pack up the car and say my good-byes, and got back on the road. Only before I could get to Winston, I had one more pit stop.
When I was reviewing the route with my Dad, I noticed that one of my many options of Fredericksburg to Winston included passing near or through Charlottesville. One cannot travel mere miles from a wino without stopping in to say hello! I pulled off the highway in Charlottesville and zig-zagged through the mountainous streets until I found Jess’s house. As Buddy and Ivy forlicked in the snow (from 2 weeks ago!) in her backyard, Jess and I cuddled up with a cup of coffee – a break from writing her dissertation, a break from the growing monotony of the highway. I could have stayed all day, but I knew I’d regret it as night fell and I was still on the road.
I made it home around 5 that night, road-weary and completely uninterested in anything but eating dinner, taking a shower and going to bed. Sad to admit though, since it was New Year’s Eve! Matt and I cooked dinner together, and toasted to the New Years with Crystal Light, as he prepped to go to work and I was completely wine-d out (what?!) form my week at home. He headed in around 10, and I clicked the lights off at eleven. When the ball dropped on 2010, I was far gone into dreamland, putting another long but lovely journey behind me.
August 10, 2009
You know how sometimes you plan an event a few months out in advance, and then you talk it up and talk it up and talk it up and then the event comes and it’s not nearly as fun as you built it up to be in your mind?
Well, that did not happen this weekend.
1 limo, 9 girls, 3 vineyards. Perfection.
