One of those weeks

Glass half full
My boss at our one-on-one today: "TGIFF."

Glass half empty
Plaintive wail heard escaping from the within the Ford Focus this morning:

"Adobe Tower, stop eating my girlfriend!"

The longest post ever, but it's about wine, so can you blame me?

And so, the first official "meeting" of The Wine Club came and went, hitchless but for the hangover. (It does occur to me we should give the club a more elegant name.)

We have a couple of friends with whom we share many interests; they are also "doers" in that they don't just say "we should get together sometime" but actually organize events at which we get together and have fun. (Dinner, brunch, Sunday runs, frisbee, etc). Because we also enjoy drinking wine, The Wine Club was born of this relationship.

Here is how The Wine Club works:

They invited a couple of their friends, and we invited a couple of ours (ie: four couples), thinking that this was a good number - not too many to make organization complicated or seating tricky, and enough that there would be ample conversation, opinion, and wine selecion. The objective is to taste some wine, learn something about it, and generally broaden our wine horizons. Each couple takes a turn at hosting. The hosts are in charge of selecting and obtaining the wine, doing the research involved in the "learn something" angle, preparing the food... Doing all the work, really. The other's just show up, but everyone pitches in for the wine.

We offered to host the first one - I don't know why, maybe to get it over with before the busy summer? Anyway, in an unpredictable move, we actually started planning our strategy right away, had a fairly clear grasp of our "theme" (if you could call it that) early on, and had the wine in our excited little hands an average of two weeks prior to the event.

Cut to the chase - if you are reading this, and you enjoy wine, I have some recommendations! My goodness, did we have some good picks. (We'd only tried one of these before - the other selections came to us by combination of research and serendipity.) Can you tell the theme? It's very loose:

• Raats "Original" Chenin Blanc 2004 (South Africa)- Unwooded, pineappley, not too tart. Yum. Served with sushi (California roll style) handmade by McPie.
  
  
• Bird Label Riesling 2005 (Germany) - McPie says it "didn't have a harsh bone in its body". We finally understood what they say about "sweetness perfectly balanced by acidity". It's true, it works. Yum. Served with aged cheddar.
  
  
• Domaine de Champs de Cour Moulin-a-Vent 2004 (Beaujolais)- I have so much to say about Burgundy wine. (But I don't know enough about it yet to proselytize with any credibility.) This one was bigger than the typical Beaujolais Gamay, and silky as hell. Yum. Served with steak and stilton "tarts".
  
  
• Le Clos Jordanne "Village Reserve" Pinot Noir 2004 (Niagara) - We hunted all over southern Ontario for this, and finally tracked down the last two bottles in the NCR in Manotick. Worth the work - the best wine of the night. Had the classic (to my untutored mouth) taste of Burgundian Pinot Noir... not that I could tell you what that is exactly other than VELVET. We served it with smoked salmon.
  
  
• Sandalford Cabernet Sauvignon 2004 (Australia) - Appropriately juicy as all cabs should be. Smooth after several hours of decanting (only an experiment, we're aren't actually savvy that way). Don't remember too many details since this was the fifth wine... But Yum! Served this with curried lamb and phyllo bundles, made by me, with help in the phyllo folding by McPie because we were rushing to do this at 7:27, minutes before the guests were scheduled to arrive.
  
  
• Cline Zinfandel 2005 (California) - The one wine we'd had before: I brought it the first time Sweetie McPie made me dinner. (Our first real date.) It was the least impressive of all the others, but I'd still recommend it, for the price. Not big like a Syrah, but nicely spicy. (Strangely, after the Cab, it had a distinctive smell of latex paint. We all agreed on that.) Definite Yum factor.

Notice the lack of real tasting notes? Pretty pathetic on my part, given that we sat down to the wine at 8:30, and spent the better part of 5 hours sniffing and sipping... It's just that I was so enjoying the sniffing, and the sipping that I couldn't be arsed to find the words for the heaven I was sensing.

A good time was had by all, but "all" was a bit different that we expected. One couple failed to show up. They just... didn't come. (And we'd set up a strict and elaborate framework for subbing guests in case of absence, and we'd planned the event five weeks in advance.) And one of the ladies arrived and announces she was newly pregnant, and would only be sniffing. That left five of us (one of which had to drive) with the six bottles of EFFING DELICIOUS wine (as in, as if we weren't going to finish the bottles), plus, McPie and I threw in a "bonus" opener of Prosecco as a welcomer/palate cleanser, served as our guests arrive. (We are enormous fans of sparkling wine. Try it on a random Saturday or Sunday morning, in bed or with the Globe and Mail.)

By the time we swilled the last drops of Zin, our good sense was drowned, our tastebuds puckered from an attempted to pair chocolate with red wine (bad idea), so we broke out the Maple ice wine (Gaspereau Vineyards in Nova Scotia), and our homemade limoncello. By all accounts these were also delicious - I have no recollection. (I'm actually familiar with both from previous occasions, and I have to say, we make a mean limoncello.)

I also have no recollection of us slowly tidying up the kitchen or going to bed at 4 AM. We dragged our arses out of bed at 10:40 AM, only because we had to meet our fellow wine club founders for a pre-planned 75 minute run at 11. (Oh, the folly.) And I was still 2 sheets to the wind. McPie humoured me, but was in not much better shape.

The run was good, fun, even with a post-mortem of the event and no shortage of giggling (by me), but the buzz had warn off by the time we got to the pub for our ritual greasy post-run brunch.

I'll skip the gory details, and let it suffice to say that we spent the remainder of the afternoon glued to the couch, watching Casino Royale - exactly what we needed/wanted, brilliant movie, I now have a true appreciation for James Bond.

[Edit: Actually, there was no need to have an appreciation for James Bond pre-Casino Royale. Even the twinkle in Sean Connery's eye couldn't elevate Goldfinger from "cheesy old movie" status. And it wasn't the new Bond that did it - the grittier action (hand-to-hand! With blood!), grim plot and lack of cheeseball lines all made the latest Bond a REAL movie.]

Deserves more credit

For the past week and a half, Findley has been refusing to eat his wet food. He's been guzzling the dry stuff (normally just a snack), and totally ignoring the wet chunks. I hold out hope, and continue to refresh his wet dish daily.

I read on the CBC web site (thanks Vicki!) about the poisoned pet food recall.

"In Canada, the recall also covers Loblaws President's Choice brand." Maybe Findley could smell it. (Since he's deaf, he other senses are more acute, right?)

Findley's been secretly praying for deliverance from the Mama who is trying to poison him.

I should've gone to Girly School****

I would have learned that it is a bad idea to carry only a makeup case* and a glasses case in my backpack when jogging home from work. The jostling! Oh, the jostling. With no lunchkit**, gym clothes, books, or shoes to fill up the space (these things are all too heavy to carry on the 6 km run), the makeup gets jostled all the way out of it's little plastic cases. It forms a uniform, slightly greasy, quarter inch thick coating of brown powder on every article within the case, and completely saturates the lining of the case itself.

I discovered the repercussions of my decidedly unGirly inattention to my toiletries the morning after the fateful jog. I managed to salvage the mascara, concealer and tweezer (really, did I need anything else?) and chucked the rest in the garbage.

Where does one acquire a makeup case? Do I really have to spend money at Clinique to get a "free" one?

* Okay, so my "makeup case" was an Air Canada-issue masculine toiletry case inherited from Ben, who had received it from McPie's mother's boyfriend (presumably for Ben's use as a toy). And this was an improvement on the snack-sized ziplock bags I'd been previously be using (cycling through) as my makeup case. I maybe would have flunked Girly School.

** Yes, I have a lunchkit! It's pink with flowers and Sweetie McPie puts a homemade lunch in it for me every morning. And yes, people at work make fun of me for it even though I keep it in my locker***. So there - I'd have at least passed Kitsch Class at Girly School.

*** YES! We have lockers at work. In our cubes. They're actually pretty handy.

**** Alternative title: "I am so lame."

Green Gable: 1, Hedda: 0

I am also excited about my imminent knit-a-along with Trixie. Or, I was. Unfortunately, the Green Gable has teamed up with Life to kick my butt before I've even started.

While Mom visited on the weekend, we managed to sneak out the not-so-local yarn store (NSLYS) and pick up some yarn (Bernat Organic Cotton in Cactus - pale green). I'm less than expert at this knitting thing, and this is like the second real pattern I'm working with, so we were extra careful to find something that (supposedly) matched the gauge noted in the pattern.

Shortly thereafter, wonder of wonders, I discovered an hour alone in the living room. (Mom etc were touristing, McPie was at band practice, and the kidlets were PLAYING SILENTLY BY THEMSELVES.) I swatched with diligence, my excitement mounting.

Long story short, I'm getting too many stitches to the inch, even when I try bigger needles. (I'm not a really tight knitter: I blame the yarn and sticks entirely.) I can only upsize so far, until the knitting begins to look more like macramé. Trixie's already described the issues that come with mis-gauging, and that's combined with the strange sizing of the pattern.

My options (as I see them): A) take my yarn back and try something else, or B) do some rudimentary and probably faulty knit-math, and dive into the project with what I've got while espousing Trixie's liberal philosophy of frogging.

Thing is, I'm too busy with other stuff to do either. In addition to juggling regular house stuff, sick kids, and band performances, McPie and I are in the midst of planning and researching for our wine club. This coming Saturday, we're hosting the premier "meeting". We've picked out six wines (and bought 5 of them), have roughly planned the course of the event, a general menu, and are in the midst of putting together all the information for each wine/vineyard/region. (Yes, we are geeks.) Since we have the kidlets this week, this work goes on in the evening hours between 9 and 11. Sometimes while watching/cursing House, M.D. (It's a ridiculous show; yet we watch it every week. How does that happen?)

The jaunt to the NSLYS will take about as much time as wrestling the knit-math - hours! (Or at least 60 contiguous minutes.) I expect to cobble that time together sometime next week. Around the same time that I plan to do my taxes and get my act together enough to download pics from my camera for posting on this very site. I'm excited to tell about the new resident in our house. (A story for another day. Or week.)

Anyway, that and the next showdown with the Green Gable is going to have to wait. I'm sure you're holding your breath.

In a

In an effort to be disciplined, a "quick" update.

Recent past:

• Wrist-warmers halted. The magical turquoise needles shattered. Quite literally. I will be getting a new set, and then I will be heeding the care instructions to a word.
• March break with kidlets: We sent them to "outdoor adventure camp" and we get the coldest week of the winter. Obviously. Shyness was overcome, friends were made, kids were happy.
• Whirlwind tour of the tri-city area (for me that is Guelph, Waterloo, and the Hammer). Presented Mom McPie with NEW BLUE fuzzyfeet. (Pics and story to come.) Enjoyed a too-long-awaited but worth-the-wait visit with Trixie and family. Lunched with Ye Olde Baba in her new digs at the Villa Italia - made sure she was happy in her new home. (She is.)

Relative present:

• Spring has sprung (a leak) in the Nat Cap region. McPie and I celebrated the early DST change with a glorious after-work jog last night. We ran for a good hour, and still got home before sunset. Oh, the glory! Today, it's pouring rain - definitely springtime.
• Big trip to Ikea tonight. Something we avoid like the plague really, but it's an emergency situation. We need 30 cheap wine glasses and a will-do-for-now window covering, stat. Ikea is it. It's also right beside Chapters, where I'll pick up The Constant Princess for my book club meeting. It's been a long time since I spoiled myself with some historical fiction.

Foreseeable future:

• Mom and her fella visit this weekend on their way back to the Farmhouse. Irish menu is planned for Saturday. No green beer. Green beer is not Irish; it's a travesty. Do you celebrate St. Patrick's Day? If so, why (are you Irish? You don't like snakes?) And, how? Just curious...
• Plotting my next knit-project. Ready for adventure. Trixie sent me to the Green Gable, and I just might try it.
• Wine club. We're hosting the inaugural meeting in 10 days and counting. Plans are afoot, wine has been bought. Research in progress. Post to follow.

Bullet point lists. I'm so predictable.

Something to do with nothing much

This thought is inspired by Trixie's post today...

The most distinctive and surprising smell memory I've ever had came to me in a hot car. My grandparents had both died within a year of each other (they were really old), and I inherited their car. The Dynasty. On a hot summer day, about three or four years after they died I came out of work and got into the swelter of the Dynasty. The heat had brought out the very precise smell of my grandparents. I didn't even have to struggle to put my finger on what it was; it was so immediately obvious.

It was the smell of their house, their bedroom, their hugs. Because I'd spent so much time with them growing up (the best treat ever was getting to sleep over at their place on a Saturday night - we did it weekly for years and years) that not just the memory of them, but of all the childhood adventures associated with staying at their place - nearby where we lived in Huntsville.

Despite the suffocating heat, I sat for a few moments in the car and revelled in the thoughts (actually, it was more vague than an actual thought - more like a feeling) that the smell made so darn clear.

Interestly, Gramma and Grampa had the best barbie collection ever: old fashioned ones that had been my aunt's that had crazy 60's outfits. We never got to take them home - only play with them at their house. My grandparents would ooh and aah at the hairdo's my sister and I created for them. (The french braid was a spectacular achievement.) And I do believe that my grandparents were the source of the strange "patent leather" barbie carrying case with the perpetually broken clasp.

Me? Competitive?

Back in the day, I used to go to aerobics classes. Step aerobics, instructor-led "body toning", that sort of thing.

Then, when I moved to Ottawa nearly eight (!) years ago, I inevitably got into ultimate. The last thing I ever expected to do was play a team sport, but once I decided I liked the frisbee, I had to do it until I got it right (or, rightish). I got pretty serious about it, each season upping the number of nights and level of play in which I participated, and managed somehow to play at Nationals a couple of times.

It changed my life in many ways (subject for future posts perhaps), but in one particular way that I've just noticed of late...

This year, I've taken the winter off of frisbee, due to injury and practical other technical reasons - the first time in like five years. At the same time, I went back to aerobics classes. It's a little different from what I recall of pre-frisbee aerobics.

Now, I try to win the aerobics class.

It's true. I find myself trying to use a higher step, a heavier body bar, or jumping a little higher, lasting a little longer than the others in the class. Sometimes, I go into "hot D" mode, and try to beat the instructor. The class is a success if I "win". (The fact that this leads to a better workout is a mere side story.) When McPie picks me up after class, I report on how much, how high, how long, and on which exercises I failed to be the best in the class. Just like after a game.

However, at the Plant Rec Centre, it's a bit of an empty achievement to "win" against little old Chinese ladies.

So, I think the conclusion (if not the moral) of this story is: I can't wait to get back on the field!

What not to do with a sugar-dusted jelly donut

Eat it at your computer, while hovering over your keyboard.

Just sayin'.