Taking Porch Night on the Road

Quite some time ago, Hugh was the winning bidder on a wine tour excursion for up to twenty people. Now,  Hugh doesn't drink wine and would just as soon send his tongue through a paper shredder as board a bus with a group of wine enthusiasts but; he bid on that excursion with the intensity of a man fighting for tickets to the Super Bowl. The fact that he was at a table surrounded by slightly intoxicated women who very much are wine enthusiasts and who were cheering him on to victory with supportive comments such as; "Are you really going to let that eighty-year old woman defeat you?" and " Raise your paddle, man!" may have had a little something to do with his eventual victory but, the important thing is, he won and, because of the whole tongue through the paper shredder thing; I got to take the trip.

The tough part of planning a trip for up to twenty people is finding a time when the greatest number of people are available to attend which is why it took over a year to pull the thing together. It was worth it, though; I managed to pick a date that allowed for eleven friends to accompany me and, truly, twelve ended up being the perfect number of people for the excursion and, not just because I happen to have twelve cut-crystal glasses from which mimosas could be sipped prior to loading the party bus although, that was a happy coincidence.

Another happy coincidence was the discovery of two dozen chocolate-dipped strawberries on the bus since; two dozen divides equally among twelve people quite well (math! it was an educational trip!). We enjoyed those strawberries, along with a wheel of brie, crackers and other assorted cheeses once we arrived at the first stop on our tour of local wineries; Stone Cottage Cellars, named for the construction of the buildings, all of which used rocks culled from its' vineyard.

It was lovely. Also, quite educational as this was the winery at which we learned the chemical process wherein wine is made. It involves a lot of scientific terms and definitions and; it's a good thing it was the first stop of the day because, by the end of the tour, we weren't necessarily as capable of understanding chemical reactions involving lactic acid and carbon dioxide, you know, for some reason.

Following a tour of the vineyard and cellar, we were treated to our first tasting which was the beginning of the end of our sobriety. In a good way.

My favorite wine at this particular winery was a Chardonnay that smelled like buttah and tasted like heaven, seriously. I may or may not have purchased a bottle. Or twelve.

The second stop on our tour was a vineyard-slash-orchard with a produce stand thrown in for good measure.

In addition to wine, we purchased jams, jellies, gourmet honeys, BBQ sauces, marinades, chocolate wine sauces (that would be me), mustards and olive oils, all of which are produced right on the premises. We also had a chance to wander through the orchard and to pick our own peaches, several cases of which went home with us in the back of the party bus.

Then, we relaxed and visited for a bit by the river before settling in the shade for a picnic provided by the tour company.

Lunch was a delicious turkey wrap with gourmet pasta salad and brownies so chewy I thought I might die from the awesomness. In short, we were well fed before boarding the bus for the last winery on the tour.

At the last winery, which is also a distillery, we learned how gin and vodka are made and had a chance to sample both. And, of course, there was wine which explains why the only thing I remember about how gin is made is that the still was really, really pretty (copper! from Germany!).

The last stop on our tour was at a chocolate shop where we could watch confections being hand-dipped in chocolate while enjoying ice cream in old fashioned sugar cones that were also made in the shop. It was a great way to finish off the tour before we all returned to our normal lives which, for me, meant rushing to the High School for a volleyball game and, people; you have not lived until you've been dropped off at a High School volleyball game by a party bus. Also, volleyball is even more exciting while slightly buzzed on wine and chocolate. You heard it here, first.

To recap: wine is good, twelve is the perfect number for Girl's Day Out, and, my husband should get drunk and bid on fun stuff at charity events more often.

Where Were You?

10 years ago today, I was conducting my first Board meeting as the Executive Director of the Hooterville Tourism Bureau. I had been promoted from Assistant to the Director to Executive Director when the prior Director lost her shit and went crazy on the Board. It was not an ideal way to obtain a position and I don't recommend it but; there it was.

The job was slightly intimidating, the Board members even more so and, I was a bit nervous that morning.

The meeting started at 7:30, Mountain Time, 10:30, Eastern Standard Time and the attacks on the World Trade Center were well underway.

We didn't know that, of course; we were thirteen people in a small Board room, people with a genuine interest in the economic future of our small city. People oblivious, for the moment, of the changes that were about to take place in the airline industry, an industry vital to that economic future.

Shortly after 8:00, a secretary came into the room with coffee and scones; she delivered the first news of the attacks; a plane had flown into the World Trade Center.

Someone, I thought, is going to get so sued.

I wish it had been that simple.

We finished our business that morning and the Board members departed. I joined several people in the adjoining office suite to watch as news of the Towers' collapse went round the world. We watched as The Pentagon burned and stared in gape-mouthed horror at a scorched Pennsylvania field and something became readily apparent; no one would be getting sued.

Instead, our world was about to change, irrevocably.

At home that day, I had a five-year-old and a two-year-old; children far too young to understand the importance of the events that were unfolding.

Today, I have a fifteen-year-old and a twelve-year-old, children who have grown up with the knowledge of the loss sustained in The Towers that day and, of the tragedy of lives cut short in the Pentagon and on that Pennsylvania field. They are completely unaware of what it is like to live in a world were every plane that passes overhead doesn't trigger an emotional response, where shoes have nothing to do with getting on an airplane or where news coverage of the war doesn't feature prominently on the television and on the Internet. The saddest part is; they didn't lose that innocence, they never got to have it; which is yet another blow delivered by the terrorists that September day.

But, the terrorists didn't win that day. Our country was not defeated. It was damaged, yes. Changes happened because of those events but, basic humanity overcame. People from totally different walks of life came together to pick up the pieces, to offer comfort to the families of the victims, to rebuild.

That day, we were strengthened. The steel of our nation was tempered in the flames of the terrorists' hatred and the nation came out stronger.

That strength is the legacy of 9/11, a beautiful autumn day during which the world was changed, forever.

And I was in a Board room with twelve strangers who, ten years later, I call friends.

Are You Ready for Some Football?!

I am.

Well, I am as long as it involves these kids...

...and, yes, my son is the smallest kid in the group. He is not, however, the smallest kid on the team, in fact, he actually falls in the middle of the group as far as size goes; his closest friends just happen to be giants. And, in the case of two-out-of the-three of them, a full year older.

There's hope is what I'm saying. Also, puberty? You can have your way with my son any day now, as long as you gift him with some additional height and, please, fortheloveofgod, some bulk. Really, I'll deal with the facial hair and the stinky armpits if you will just please ignite in him a sudden craving for steak and potatoes. Or, protein shakes, whatever.

Anyhoodle, the boys played a good game despite losing 20-14 in the last 36 seconds. This brings their record to 1-1 with many, many games to come. Not that I'm counting or anything.

Unfortunately, of those games (that I'm obviously not counting); only three are home games. Three. I'm not sure what scheduling genius came up with that plan but my gasoline budget would like to kick him squarely in the groin.

On the other hand, if it weren't for traveling to yesterday's game, we would have missed the chance to see the school bus carrying our Middle School girls' volleyball team as it drove by on it's way to a game in a town just beyond the town in which we were playing. Had we missed that; we would have missed seeing the girls waving out of the windows, whistling at our boys and cheering them on to a touchdown and I would have hated to miss that because it was kind of awesome. Also, kudos to that bus driver for actually slowing down so the girls could see the touchdown.

I should mention that, on that bus was the girl on whom the Man-Cub has a wicked crush, so; he was especially happy to see it go by although; I can't imagine why....

...Oh, shit.

Puberty? I take back what I said; you cannot have your way with my son, after all.

I'm Not Running a Charity Kitchen for Rodents Here

Remember all those sunflowers that I didn't plant this year?

Yeah, those sunflowers.

Well, those sunflowers are now heavy with seeds, seeds that cause the sunflowers to hang their heads low and seeds that I fully intend to brine and roast for next year's baseball season because; I may not have planted them but I am not above enjoying the bounty of their crop.

Unfortunately, I am not the only creature interested in enjoying that bounty and, yesterday, I discovered irrefutable evidence of mice in the garden, specifically on the sunflowers.

That shit can't stand.

And, it was. Shit. Just to be clear.

So, I did the reasonable thing; I Googled "Mice on my sunflowers". The results were...not very helpful (Watch yourself, Google; I may have to quit you) so, I did the next reasonable thing and I started asking customers at the hardware store how to deal with the problem and, God bless those old farmers because they were a wealth of information and advice which is why my sunflowers are now sporting cheesecloth turbans over their heads.

Theoretically, the turbans will keep the mice from getting at the seeds before I harvest the heads, sometime within the next two weeks. I must admit, I'm not totally convinced; I've seen mice chew through Rubbermaid containers just to get at a Payday bar, I'm not sure a thin sheet of cotton fiber is going to deter them but; the old farmers were pretty certain so....we'll see.

On a completely different topic, The Teenager has her first weekday home volleyball game today which means that she was required to dress up for school (back when I was in school, we dressed up to travel for games; things have certainly changed. Also, where is my Metamucil because that sentence just made me sound about a million years old, damn) and she wore the cutest outfit, evah, see:

The Man-Cub has an "away" game, today. He wasn't required to wear a dress.

But I could have whipped him up a sweet little cheesecloth turban, had he wanted to wear one, which, for the record; he did not.

*Please ignore the random head poking up over the pumpkins on the right; it's actually part of a very cute statue that my in-laws bought for Hugh for Christmas one year and not some creepy kid from a Japanese horror film although, damn, that could totally be a creepy kid from a Japanese horror film.

It's Times Like This That Make Me Wish I Used Real Names

Last night, The Teenager's volleyball team played the Pixler Panthers in what was one of the most heated competitions we have seen to date. The Teenager and her teammates went into the game fully aware of the abilities of the other team's players and, while being slightly nervous about the outcome; looked forward to the challenge.

And, it was a challenge; the Freshman team lost its' game in three sets. Happily, however, when The Teenager and her Junior Varsity teammates stepped up to their competition, they found themselves outmatched in height, alone, winning their game in two sets, with The Teenager making several critical plays. Her coach was duly impressed and The Teenager rode a natural high the rest of the evening which, came in handy later.

The Varsity team had more of a challenge but also managed to win in four sets. It was a great victory, especially considering the unsportsmanlike behavior of the teenagers in the Panther crowd and, I mean, really. I have never seen rudeness on the level that those kids exhibited, for example:

-When the girls switched courts following the first set, a large crowd of Panther teenagers moved with them, into the visitor's section, which is where we, as visitors, were sitting. They stood in front of us in the first three rows of seats and, despite being asked to sit down by several adults, including the Principal of our High School, remained standing for the entire set.

-Did I mention that they were holding large signs, further blocking our view? They were.

-When the girls switched courts following that set, the parents on our side spread out and positioned ourselves strategically throughout the visitor's section so that, when the girls switched courts again, the large crowd was stopped mid-migration. This elicited a stream of curse-words and obscene gestures from several of the more obnoxious teens despite the fact that their own Principal was standing right there.

-When they were denied seats in the visitor's section, they returned to the other side of the bleachers where they proceeded to heckle our girls on the bench, The Teenager (who was taking stats) and the Freshman and JV teams with crude sexual remarks, racial slurs, veiled and not-so-veiled threats of violence and general assholery.

And, not once were they rebuked by a parent, teacher, the Principal or the Superintendent of Schools who was also in attendance. It was a travesty.

In comparison, a large group of our football players also attended the game. They sat across the court from us, in another designated visitor's section and managed to cheer for our girls in an appropriate manner despite becoming visibly agitated by the "fans" of the home team.

We were all quite proud of our boys. and, obviously, of our girls.

Also, I am drafting a letter to the editor of the Pixler County Independent, praising the stellar job that the adults of Pixler are doing in raising polite, obedient and courteous kids.

I may also have to request that they look up the definition of sarcasm in the dictionary. Assuming any of them own one. Or, know how to use one.

And That Was My Weekend

I love this time of year. I love how the days are still long enough for all the activities that I want to cram into them and yet the temperature is cool enough that I don't feel like I am walking into an incinerator the second I step out the door.

I took advantage of that particular phenomenon this weekend when I used every bit of Friday's daylight to clean and redecorate the front porch. Now,  fall colors and seasonal flowers have taken the place of summer's pastels and blooming petunias which, if we are being honest, had gotten less "bloomy" and more stringy and; I could not be happier with the resulting decor.

Saturday was chock-full of volleyball, with games in the morning and again in the afternoon. Happily, The Teenager's team won every game. The Teenager played and, played well, and; the last batch of Gatorblox was dispatched, handily. But, Lord have mercy, the Bleacher Butt returneth. I'm seriously considering faking a broken tailbone just to get my doctor to prescribe one of those foam donut seats. Seriously.

After the volleyball games, Hugh and I took my aching butt out to dinner for an early celebration of our anniversary which was the next day; a day during which Hugh worked for the police department while I dropped The Teenager and the Man-Cub off at play dates so that I could see a movie with a girlfriend.

The movie we had chosen to see was The Help, which I had read in book club and was really looking forward to seeing. Yes, me and every senior citizen in Hooterville, apparently.

I'm not even kidding, my girlfriend and I were in line behind every blue-hair within twenty miles and the line moved at a glacial pace, courtesy of the various walkers, canes and wheelchairs hampering the speed at which their various owners could move. Luckily, once we were seated in the theater, the senior crowd proved more courteous than the younger generations that I have attended movies with; there were no ringing cell phones, no obscenities being yelled across the theater and not once did the gentleman sitting behind me kick my seat. Indeed, if you ignored the occasional high pitched squeal of a hearing aid battery shitting the bed, the whole experience was quite pleasant.

And, the movie was really, really good. So good that the running time of two-and-a-half hours would have gone by in a blink were it not for my bladder screaming in agony (Note to self: the extra large diet soda is only a good investment if you are willing to miss vital parts of the movie in order to visit the Ladies).

As it was; by the time the movie was over, I was in no state to toddle up the aisle behind a woman slowly pushing a walker.Yet, that is exactly where I found myself and, during the loooong journey up that aisle it occurred to me that the seniors walking ever so sloooowly up the aisle had the luxury of doing so because, despite having partaken of the extra large diet soda and sitting through all two-and-a-half hours of the movie, they were in possession of Depends and, in that moment, I envied those people their adult diapers.

As we know, Karma is a boomerang and my old age will now feature frequent bouts of incontinence as well as chronic broken tailbones and a squeaky wheel on my wheelchair, mark my words.

In less pissy news (ha! I slay me!), The Teenager and I went to Neighboring City to shop for a Homecoming dress today. We had an awesome time. In fact, if only my feet were half a size smaller, enabling me to wear the adorable silver heels that we purchased for her; the day would have been perfect.

Damn you, half size. Damn you.

And, that was my weekend.

As Rhianna Would Say, Cheers to the Freakin' Weekend

Yesterday Hugh and I split the cheering duties for the kids' sporting events; Hugh took the town 40 miles to the northeast while I took the town 40 miles to the southeast. This means that Hugh was present at the Man-Cub's football game when the Cub made an interception and ran for a gain of 20 yards (before accidentally tripping over the cleats of his teammate who was blocking for him) while I cheered The Teenager on at her first Junior Varsity volleyball game during which, I'm proud to report; she thrilled the crowd with three kills in a row (spike over the net that the opposing team can't return. Kill just rolls off the tongue ever so much more easily). It was a good day for sports in our household.

Speaking of sports, our long holiday weekend will be interrupted with two volleyball games and, while I really enjoy watching The Teenager play volleyball, I'm sort of irritated by the fact that games had to be scheduled during the holiday weekend, I mean; this totally ruins my plans for lazing around on the porch with a good book and the last of the summer cherries.

Also, Hugh and I will celebrate 18 years of marriage on Sunday and a three-day weekend away would have been nice. As it stands, we will enjoy dinner at our favorite restaurant which, isn't such a bad thing, either but, still.

On the bright side, The Teenager's team will play both games at home (11:00 and 5:00) with enough time in between for me to pull the summer planters off the porch and to replace them with autumn planters, garlands and other decorative items that I like to use this time of year. I should also mention that I am showing great restraint in not pulling out the Halloween decorations and going completely Halloween-happy on the house.

Next week.