Things to do when not blogging − 6 October, 2002
Doesn't surprise me much. Two days later and I haven't put anything down. I know that getting my thoughts down about the past few months will take some discipline, but that seems to be in short supply tonight.
The weekend was pretty much packed with stuff that kept me out of the house. First there was the round of system maintenance at 5am on Saturday morning that needed to be completed at the oriface (the office). After that, there were errands to the cleaners, the dump and car wash. By the time 10a rolled around, Wendy had arrived for the tour of local wineries that we had planned earlier in the week. It wasn't until after noon when we finally departed from Rancho Puffy in search of lunch at a little Chinese restaurant down the road from my house. (You'd think after all of the Chinese food that we had on our vacation to China just a few weeks ago, that we would have had enough. Not a chance!).
Despite our late start, we managed to visit three wineries during the afternoon. By and large, they all produced some very good samples of the vintner's art. To my amazement, I learned that one of the wineries was owned by relatives of a friend of my father. While we were tasting some of the products of this particular winery, I kept thinking that the man behind the counter looked and sounded very much like the man who used to own my dad's favorite restaurant. Upon asking him his last name, I confirmed my suspicions. Immediately, Nick began regaling Wendy with stories about how much of a "character" my dad was and how he was always interested in learning the more, shall we say, base words in the Greek language. Yep, that was my dad, all right. To this day, most of the bits of German that he taught me would only serve to get my face slapped. Just before the tour began, Nick and one of the ladies who worked at the winery got a look at my attire. Bandana, t-shirt, skirt (not a kilt) and sandals. "Just as crazy as your father", Nick laughed.
We managed a tour at the next stop, even though they didn't officially have tours. There were some other visitors there who knew the owners from a previous wine tasting. We and some other folks who arrived later jumped at the chance to take a look around. The facility was housed in an old farmhouse dating back to the 1880's. Two years of renovations later and the house was a winery. These small, folksy kind of places are characteristic of many of the wineries in this area (Yadkin Valley). Although they are usually smaller than their Napa Valley cousins, they produce comparable vintages of Chardonnay, Chambourcin, Cabernet, et. al. Westbend Vineyards, where we ran into Nick, recently scored the highest rating (86) for a wine produced in the Southeast, as ranked by Wine Spectator. I'm more of a beer aficionado myself. I might not be a wine snob, but I know what I like.
The last stop on the tour was a winery that has just opened its doors a few weeks ago. When we arrived, we weren't sure if we were in the right place. The passengers in a car pulling out of the parking lot kept staring at us as if were weren't supposed to be there. We ventured inside and were greeted by the sight of a medium-sized warehouse, but no sign of a winery. It wasn't until we rounded a corner, that we saw the small tasting area in the middle of the warehouse. Of the three, this one had the least impressive products (IMHO). Not to say they weren't quite good (which they were), just that they didn't stack up to the Barrel-fermented Chardonnay or the Mourvedre that I had purchased at the previous stops. Wendy, however, really liked the Rose and bought a bottle. Being that there were no other customers in the place at that hour (5p), we talked at length with lady, whom along with her husband, owned the winery. She and Wendy really clicked when she mentioned that she worked for a nearby hospital. Seeing that they both had common ground career-wise, the conversation flowed from their plans for the winery, to our recent trip to China and then to the topic of manicures and pedicures, which the co-owner noted was her weekly gift to herself. Stealing a quick look at her feet, I wondered if she'd ever thought of a money-back guarantee from her salon...
After the wine business, we returned to Winston to take in the latest entry in the Hannibal Lechter saga, "Red Dragon". Once again, Anthony Hopkins turned in a perversely humorous performance as the twisted doctor. Ralph Fiennes, who I've been impressed with since "Quiz Show" ("The Avengers" notwithstanding), was spot-on as the schizophrenic Dragon. It was a truly frightening tale, which caused us both to jump at certain points. Throughout the movie, Wendy was fighting her returning bout with a cold and I was struggling to remain conscious due to four hours of sleep the night before. After the movie, we said our goodnights. She was off to her home and I was off to bed.
Despite my best laid plans, I responded to the 6:30a alarm Sunday morning by turning off the alarm rather than getting out of bed. It wasn't until 9:30 that I finally pulled myself out of the seductive clutches of my sheets and stumbled into the shower. Originally, I had hoped to hunt for a few Geocaches (see www.geocaching.com for details) before meeting with the team from my Information Systems class at 1p. I was slightly irritated at the prospect of spending half the afternoon working on our survey project for the class, but I had agreed to it. No one to blame but myself. There were still a couple of hours in which to search for a cache or two in Greensboro, so I threw my stuff in the Jeep and headed out.
The first cache was a bust. After hiking the better part of a mile, I realized that I was on the wrong trail. Given the fact that I would be lucky to grab lunch unless I abandoned further searching, I gave up and stopped at the Steak and Shake for a burger and bowl of chili (BIG MISTAKE, as I found out later). The waitress seemed to be overly attentive. Despite the fact that she was at least 10 (probably more like 15) years my junior, she was just a little too friendly. I don't have any illusions that I'm some sort of chick magnet. Far from it. I know it's not my imagination since most of the time, when I notice such things, someone else mentions it to me before I have a chance to say anything. Strange.
As is my SOP, I arrived at the meeting ten minutes late. Speaking of late, it's getting that way 'round here. I'll wrap this up tomorrow and hopefully start getting some heavier things off of my chest.
The weekend was pretty much packed with stuff that kept me out of the house. First there was the round of system maintenance at 5am on Saturday morning that needed to be completed at the oriface (the office). After that, there were errands to the cleaners, the dump and car wash. By the time 10a rolled around, Wendy had arrived for the tour of local wineries that we had planned earlier in the week. It wasn't until after noon when we finally departed from Rancho Puffy in search of lunch at a little Chinese restaurant down the road from my house. (You'd think after all of the Chinese food that we had on our vacation to China just a few weeks ago, that we would have had enough. Not a chance!).
Despite our late start, we managed to visit three wineries during the afternoon. By and large, they all produced some very good samples of the vintner's art. To my amazement, I learned that one of the wineries was owned by relatives of a friend of my father. While we were tasting some of the products of this particular winery, I kept thinking that the man behind the counter looked and sounded very much like the man who used to own my dad's favorite restaurant. Upon asking him his last name, I confirmed my suspicions. Immediately, Nick began regaling Wendy with stories about how much of a "character" my dad was and how he was always interested in learning the more, shall we say, base words in the Greek language. Yep, that was my dad, all right. To this day, most of the bits of German that he taught me would only serve to get my face slapped. Just before the tour began, Nick and one of the ladies who worked at the winery got a look at my attire. Bandana, t-shirt, skirt (not a kilt) and sandals. "Just as crazy as your father", Nick laughed.
We managed a tour at the next stop, even though they didn't officially have tours. There were some other visitors there who knew the owners from a previous wine tasting. We and some other folks who arrived later jumped at the chance to take a look around. The facility was housed in an old farmhouse dating back to the 1880's. Two years of renovations later and the house was a winery. These small, folksy kind of places are characteristic of many of the wineries in this area (Yadkin Valley). Although they are usually smaller than their Napa Valley cousins, they produce comparable vintages of Chardonnay, Chambourcin, Cabernet, et. al. Westbend Vineyards, where we ran into Nick, recently scored the highest rating (86) for a wine produced in the Southeast, as ranked by Wine Spectator. I'm more of a beer aficionado myself. I might not be a wine snob, but I know what I like.
The last stop on the tour was a winery that has just opened its doors a few weeks ago. When we arrived, we weren't sure if we were in the right place. The passengers in a car pulling out of the parking lot kept staring at us as if were weren't supposed to be there. We ventured inside and were greeted by the sight of a medium-sized warehouse, but no sign of a winery. It wasn't until we rounded a corner, that we saw the small tasting area in the middle of the warehouse. Of the three, this one had the least impressive products (IMHO). Not to say they weren't quite good (which they were), just that they didn't stack up to the Barrel-fermented Chardonnay or the Mourvedre that I had purchased at the previous stops. Wendy, however, really liked the Rose and bought a bottle. Being that there were no other customers in the place at that hour (5p), we talked at length with lady, whom along with her husband, owned the winery. She and Wendy really clicked when she mentioned that she worked for a nearby hospital. Seeing that they both had common ground career-wise, the conversation flowed from their plans for the winery, to our recent trip to China and then to the topic of manicures and pedicures, which the co-owner noted was her weekly gift to herself. Stealing a quick look at her feet, I wondered if she'd ever thought of a money-back guarantee from her salon...
After the wine business, we returned to Winston to take in the latest entry in the Hannibal Lechter saga, "Red Dragon". Once again, Anthony Hopkins turned in a perversely humorous performance as the twisted doctor. Ralph Fiennes, who I've been impressed with since "Quiz Show" ("The Avengers" notwithstanding), was spot-on as the schizophrenic Dragon. It was a truly frightening tale, which caused us both to jump at certain points. Throughout the movie, Wendy was fighting her returning bout with a cold and I was struggling to remain conscious due to four hours of sleep the night before. After the movie, we said our goodnights. She was off to her home and I was off to bed.
Despite my best laid plans, I responded to the 6:30a alarm Sunday morning by turning off the alarm rather than getting out of bed. It wasn't until 9:30 that I finally pulled myself out of the seductive clutches of my sheets and stumbled into the shower. Originally, I had hoped to hunt for a few Geocaches (see www.geocaching.com for details) before meeting with the team from my Information Systems class at 1p. I was slightly irritated at the prospect of spending half the afternoon working on our survey project for the class, but I had agreed to it. No one to blame but myself. There were still a couple of hours in which to search for a cache or two in Greensboro, so I threw my stuff in the Jeep and headed out.
The first cache was a bust. After hiking the better part of a mile, I realized that I was on the wrong trail. Given the fact that I would be lucky to grab lunch unless I abandoned further searching, I gave up and stopped at the Steak and Shake for a burger and bowl of chili (BIG MISTAKE, as I found out later). The waitress seemed to be overly attentive. Despite the fact that she was at least 10 (probably more like 15) years my junior, she was just a little too friendly. I don't have any illusions that I'm some sort of chick magnet. Far from it. I know it's not my imagination since most of the time, when I notice such things, someone else mentions it to me before I have a chance to say anything. Strange.
As is my SOP, I arrived at the meeting ten minutes late. Speaking of late, it's getting that way 'round here. I'll wrap this up tomorrow and hopefully start getting some heavier things off of my chest.
