Monday, February 27, 2012
Midnight to six-thirty seems like not enough sleep but I've got a 9 o'clock chiro appointment (the adjustments and some stretches are REALLY helping the numbness go away in my fingers, thank God) and then I want to drop off Kumquat, my laptop, on my way to the dive shop so she can have her closets cleaned out. I do that once a year just to keep things running smoothly; it's money well spent. Nothing of import happened between last night's post and this morning. Hmm, what can I blabber on about? There's a pair of cardinals visiting the feeder right now. I love the flashy red of the male but I really admire the subtle colors of the female, that pale greenish-brown with just a hint of red is beautiful. Good thing Durwood's still sleeping, there was a squirrel poking its head out of the birdie tree when I was packaging up the fruit I left out to thaw overnight. It looked so cute sitting there, but I know Durwood would have been tapping on the window to scare him away. Ah well, a man has to have a hobby. I've decided to give up cheating on my diet for Lent, starting today since I was not going to be on a diet when he made that pie last night. Today I'll start, and I'll end early when I meet Lala in Sheboygan on Holy Thursday for a weekend of walking and writing and goofing off. Not gonna diet then when we'll eat at Il Ritrovo and Weather Center Cafe. No way, Jose. We'll be there for the full moon and it just better be clear. Last year we were there for the Supermoon and it was totally awesome, this year we planned to be there for a full moon. No clouds needed. I'm just saying.
February 26--Andrea Mantegna, Baccchanel with a Wine Vat. The party after the last of the grapes are in at Sundown Ridge is legendary. Nearly all of the kids at the elementary school in St. Drake have birthdays nine months after the end of the harvest. Okay, maybe I exaggerate just a bit, it's probably closer to 75% than 90%, but, trust me, grape harvest babies are common around here. I'm one myself. One of the things I like best about those parties is that they're ours. Not for tourists, not to draw people in to buy something, but a celebration for and with the people we work hard with. Mario and Ed set out sawhorses with plywood tops on them. Gina and Claire and Luis' daughter Lacia spread white tablecloths that are held in place by bowls and platters of food. Bread, cheese, olives, fruit--basic finger foods, the richness of this valley, all washed down with the pale green wine of last season's harvest.
The clock just struck eight so it's time to sign off, eat breakfast, shower, and get this day on the road. Manana.