Day 2, Napa/Sonoma

While we spent most of yesterday in Napa, today we spent most of the day in Sonoma. Specifically we were in the Russian River Valley and the Alexander Valley in northern Sonoma. We visited six wineries today and I'm not even sure at this point how many different wines we sampled.

Doug says any day you drink before 10 a.m. is good, and that was definitely the case today. Our first stop was Silver Oak Winery, which is known for high-end cabs. We had some of the best cabs we've ever had. Doug was in heaven. Here is a photo of me sampling one of the cabs at 9:30 this morning.


We actually ended the day in southern Sonoma at Chateau St. Jean. In between, we visited a winery owned by Robin William's brother, a winery that Francis Ford Coppola recently purchased and has yet to name, a winery where they used to grow and dry hops for beer making before turning to grapes, and a winery that made a really yummy petite syrah port. We actually bought some to bring home, as we can't get it in Austin. The other wine we bought to take home was the Sofia Blanc du Blanc from the Coppola winery. It is actually packaged in mini-cans -- perfect to ice down in the cooler by the pool.

We had a fabulous dinner at the Glen Ellen Inn. We stumbled on it when restaurant we had planned on going to (from the book we have), just didn't have a very appetizing menu. I had a veal shank stuffed with carmelized onions and apples, and Doug had a ribeye with a merlot reduction. Not only was the food great, the atmosphere was relaxing and romantic. Doug said that with Silver Oak Winery and the Glen Ellen Inn, we had the perfect start and finish to the day.

Tomorrow we are going to again start early, trying to see some more "must sees" before heading to San Francisco for the night. In the meantime, Doug is already mentally planning our second trip to Napa/Sonoma.

Day 1, Napa/Sonoma

Just a quick update -- we are very tired. We visited four wineries today, primarily in the Calistoga, Ste. Helena, and Yountville areas of Napa. Our two favorites were Pride Vineyards (the photo of me), which makes a great merlot and cab, and Domaine Chandon, which specializes in sparkling wines (the photo of Doug).

One thing about the wineries here, they look fabulous. In Texas, they are just tasting rooms. Here there are gardens, koi ponds and one place, a gondola to get to the tasting room. No wonder they charge for tastings!

Tomorrow we are heading to wineries in the Sonoma area. I will try to post more.

California, here we come

This evening we are heading to the California wine country. Doug and I will spend a few days there and a couple of days in San Francisco. We are looking forward to it. What I want to know, however, is why is it that no matter how far ahead you plan, there is always a rush of last minute activity? Speaking of which, I need to go pack. Our hotel is supposed to have wi-fi, so I will try to blog, time permitting, while we are there.

Trapped!

The recent Austin thunderstorms caused havoc to both people and animals alike. My dog got trapped because of the storms.

About a year ago Doug had it with the dogs. They were stealing things and taking them under our bed to chew. After finding the umpteenth destroyed wallet under the bed, Doug decided that he would make the bed off limits. He bought plastic storage drawers for under the bed, and lined each side of the bed with them. However, they did not meet in the middle of the bed, leaving a small gap if one of the dogs crawled under the low footboard. Doug propped a piece of wood against the footboard to keep them from crawling under there. This seemed to do the trick.

One thing you need to know about Allegra is that she is scared of loud noises. She’s pretty brave and fairly curious about everything – it’s the border collie in her – but she doesn’t like BOOMS. On the 4th of July and New Year’s Eve, when neighborhood kids are shooting off fireworks, she quivers, shakes and turns to Jell-O. We’ll put her in the bed, under the covers, between us, and you can feel her heart racing as fast as a hummingbird. Nothing seems to calm her down. Thunder also sends her into a tizzy, but really we don’t have a lot of major thunderstorms in central Texas, that is until recently. We’ve probably had as many the past two weeks as we’ve had the entire five years of Allegra’s life.

During the recent bout of storms, Allegra was determined that she was going to hide under the bed at night, to feel safe. At first, she just pushed aside the storage drawers and crawled between them, but that didn’t leave much space for her. Then she figured out how to move the board propped against the footboard. She could knock it down with her paw and crawl in, with plenty of room to maneuver. Given that she was so scared of the storms, we allowed her to do this until she decided that this was her place to sleep and would move the board even on nights without storms. This got a bit much. One night I decided I would break her of the habit and put a laundry basket next to the board. This way she couldn’t knock down the board, or so I thought.

The next morning I woke without the usual nose sniffing my face to see if I was awake. Allegra did not come around for a morning pet and it was a bit quiet, so I knew something was up. When I went to the bathroom, I saw it – the board was moved about a foot and Allegra’s head was peaking out. “Hey Doug, I think Allegra’s trapped under the bed,” I said to the sleeping figure next to me as I crawled back into bed. “I doubt it,” he mumbled. By this time, Dante was awake and decided he needed petting, so he jumped on the bed and landed between us. Surely Allegra would be up shortly, if she could make it.

After 10 minutes, no Allegra, so I had to see if she was really trapped. I got out of bed. “Dante, you want a treat?” I said as I went to the kitchen. Dante was behind me in a flash. I grabbed a handful of treats and went back to the bedroom where Allegra could watch what I was doing. Seeing the treats, she flopped around like a fish, but couldn’t dislodge herself. “Doug, she really is trapped,” I laughed. Doug finally woke up enough to get interested and peeks at Allegra.

“Dante, sit; now speak!” I commanded. He sat, but Dante never barks on command, despite my best efforts to train him. “Speak!” A loud bark comes from the bed. It’s Allegra. She is showing me that she can speak even when trapped, and deserves a treat. “Dante, want a treat?” I ask, tossing him one. “Dante, come here,” I say, moving a few steps back. He follows. “Bark!” I hear Allegra under the bed, desperately trying to gain my attention. She wants out and she wants a treat. I giggle. I keep tormenting her for a couple of minutes, teasing her by giving her bother treats, thinking that she will manage to somehow crawl out, but she can’t. I am laughing and get Doug to take some photos. Finally, Doug has had enough and moves the board so Allegra can crawl out. She rushes to me and stares until I give her a treat.

Silly girl still hasn’t learned not to crawl under the bed, but now she waits until the thunder is really bad.

Play-off bound

The Austin Wranglers, the local arena football league team, is heading for the playoffs. After browsing the Pecan Street Festival, Doug and I went to the game, which was the last home game of the season. The Wranglers beat the Grand Rapids Rampage, 57-38.

If you've never been to an arena game, it's quite fun. The field is about a quarter the size of a standard football field. There are only 7 players per side, with players playing both offense and defense. There are no sidelines, just boards (like hockey), so you get smashed up against the wall. Also, like hockey, there are a lot of fun and games for the fans, so of like a game show. The game moves fairly quickly -- we were out of there in two and a half hours. Thanks to Ross, one of my former students who interns with the Wranglers, we had great seats. The energy was high today and it was probably the loudest we've ever seen it at a game. We are seriously thinking about buying season tickets next year as they are two-thirds the price.

The Wranglers have one more (away) game. If they win it, they will have home turf advantage.
If we go to any of the playoff games, I will try to remember to take my digital camera so I will have a better photo than what my camera phone can provide.

Keeping Austin weird

Everyone needs to do their part to keep Austin weird. Today we were at the Pecan Street Festival, which is held on 6th Street. In fact, there is no Pecan Street in Austin, although there is one in Pflugerville. Actually, the naming of the streets in Austin seems to help keep Austin weird, but I digress.

We were hanging out at the Pecan Street Festival and saw this metallic man. Not sure what he was doing dressed in silver from head to toe, but in Austin you really don't need a reason to do something off-beat. Off-beat is normal in Austin, while normal is strange. Still, he didn't seem to be pushing an agenda, selling a product or promoting a concert. He just was there, no more. Maybe that's the reason we like the festival so much, you can see so many unusual things.

Independent brewery

Today we toured Independence Brewing Company, one of the few independent beer brewers in the state. This guy started as a homebrewer and then started brewing professionally at the (now defunct) Coppertank Brewpub. A few years ago he started his own brewery. Currently Independence is available only around Austin.

Normally they aren't open to the public, but on the first Saturday of each month they have a brewery tour. Actually it's more of an open house. People show up and receive three drink tickets, which happens to coincide with the number of beers they brew. We tried the Independence Pale Ale, but we thought it was a bit too hoppy for our tastes. The Bootlegger Brown Ale was a bit too malty for me, but Doug liked it. I settled on the Freestyle Wheat Beer, which I thought was pretty good despite the fact that I normally don't like wheat beer.

The brewery was basically a big loading dock. They opened the dock doors to let everyone in, and had a half-dozen wooden picnic tables. They also had a bar area. The back half of the dock was where the brewing equipment was. It was interesting. Also hanging around the brewery was Jasper, the brew dog. He made sure to check that everyone was having a good time.

School's out, for the summer!

I gave my last final today. Whew! School is out. Grades have been turned in. Since I'll be coming back as faculty I had to pack up my desk in the graduate assistant office and turn in my key. After two years I'm leaving my office. It seems like a long time since I've spent almost two years in the same job. Such is life in tech PR.

When I got home I saw I had an email from a student who offered to wash my car for a 0.3 bump in her grade. What she didn't see is that I round up my grades. I keep thinking I should have had her clean the car. :-) Unfortunately most of my begging students are ones who are so far away from a passing grade that no amount of rounding will help.

I have decided not to teach advertising this summer. They found a PhD to teach it and this PhD is actually going to be teaching in the fall. This will allow me to focus on my thesis without having to worry about prepping for a class I won't teach again. Also, I don't have to worry about the gas and mileage for driving to San Marcos 5 days a week. Once I finish the thesis, I can prep for my other classes and pick up freelance work.

In the meantime, I'm going to enjoy my summer break. Having the summer off is the best part of being in school.

Update

Back in February I asked everyone to send best thoughts and prayers to my friend Gary. His son-in-law Blake was in a horrible skiing accident. There is good news this week. First of all, Misty, Gary's oldest daughter, gave birth to a beautiful baby girl, Taylor Lynn. Mom and baby are doing fine. Dad is doing well too, as he is finally coming home from the hospital on Thursday.

Here is a photo of dad, baby and grandma.

Teacher, teacher, I declare

In the fall I join the ranks of academia -- I have accepted a one-year contract to be full-time faculty at Texas State University. I will be teaching two classes of PR campaigns, one class of PR writing, and one section of Intro to PR (the class I've been teaching the last two semesters).

It was actually a somewhat difficult decision to make. I had planned that I would go back to work and then be an adjunct, teaching one or two classes a semester. However, one of the PR professors got a sudden urge to retire and gave notice two weeks ago. In academia, it tends to take a year to fill a tenure-track faculty position. Since they can't fill the position with a tenure-track (e.g. a PhD) candidate by fall, they offered the position to me.

I can see myself being a professor in 15-20 years, but I wasn't planning on making it my career yet. For one thing, it pays half of what I could make doing PR. That's a huge difference. But I haven't been seeing a lot of open positions at my level. I'm thinking a year of teaching would look good on my resume and will allow the market to come back. Plus, I'm getting to teach a couple of classes I haven't taught, and that's interesting to me. I may even be able to do freelance writing and PR work to make a little more money.

The big thing is that I have to get my thesis writing this summer so I can graduate. The research is done, I just have to focus on the writing. I plan to do it during the first summer session, as I will be teaching advertising the second summer session.

Until then, there are finals to give and grades to turn in. My last final is tomorrow at 8 a.m. All week I've been getting students begging for better grades, wondering how they can turn their F into a B. I hate to tell them that the best way to turn a F into a B is by intercepting the mail before their parents and using a really good ballpoint pen on their report card.

We can't take you anywhere!

One thing to know about Dante, my 5 year old black lab/border collie mix -- he squats to pee. It's the funniest thing to see a male dog squat, but he does. Not as much as his sister, but he never lifts his leg when he has to urinate. When he was younger, we really thought this was strange, but our trainer assured us that there was nothing wrong, so we didn't worry about.

One day two years ago we were walking the dogs and suddenly Dante lifted his leg and urinated on a mailbox. We were so excited that he finally grew up and at age three learned to pee properly. Then we noticed that he only did it when we were out walking. If he was in the backyard he still squatted. We realized that he only leg lifted if he was marking his territory -- he was still a squatter when it came to peeing. Luckily he kept his marking to a minimum and it wasn't too annoying.

Until recently. Saturday we went to buy fresh strawberries at the farmer's market and took the dogs with us. On our way home we stopped at Bark 'n Purr to pick up food for the dogs. Doug had Dante and I had Allegra and we looked at buffalo bones, all sorts of goodies, and other dogs. Doug and Dante were walking down the aisle with the collars when suddenly Dante lifted his leg and started peeing all over the leather collars. I was mortified! He hasn't urinated indoors since he was a pup. Dante just decided this was the time to start showing his manliness. Doug got napkins and cleaned up the mess, but got out of there as quickly as possible. No treats, no goodies, just pay for the food and leave. We were both embarrassed.

We just figured this was a one-time thing, after all, he had never done that before. And the collars were leather. Dante has a thing for leather, given the number of Doug's wallets he's destroyed. We weren't worried that there would be a repeat performance.

The next day Doug was running errands and took the dogs with them. One of the stops was Petco, to buy a storage container for their food. Doug has both dogs by the leash, walking down the dog food aisle, when suddenly he feels a tug. He looks back and there's Dante, hiking his leg and urinating on a bag of Iams. Doug starts pulling on the collar, dragging Dante, who is in mid-stream and peeing all over the floor. Doug is ready to find a large rock and crawl under it. Instead he quickly makes his way to the register, checks out, and hopes no one is the wiser. Maybe the employees will blame the puddle on the cocker spaniel.

So now our sissy-boy squatter is finding the need to mark his territory all over town, much to our chagrin. Needless to say, it will be awhile before Dante goes back to a pet store.

Happy birthday, Doug

Today is Doug's birthday. Evidently it's also the birthday of two of my students, but I'm not taking them out . I'm taking Doug to Eddie V's for dinner. He loves seafood and since I don't eat it, this is the one day a year he gets to go out and eat seafood. I think he's looking forward to it, but he's been sort of blase about his birthday this year. Be sure to leave him some birthday well-wishes.

Another new hobby

Not that Doug and I need another diversion, but last week Doug and I started taking a glass fusing, jewelry-making class at Blue Moon Glassworks. It's a four week class and tonight was week two. We got the stuff back that we made last week. We can either make a magnet or a pin out of them. Doug's pieces are the top two, mine are the bottom. Tonight we learned how to make pendants and earrings. I can't wait until next week when get those back.

April WOW tasting

Last night was the first wine tasting of the season for the Women of Wine and The Men Who Adore Them (WOW). We were tasting Ste. Genevieve, Peregrine Hill, and Lorval. Everyone seemed to have a great time. Below are a few photos Doug took at the tasting.

I'll make you a movie you can't refuse

This afternoon Doug walks into the living room, where I am watching tv. He sees what I have on and chuckles. "Just leave me alone!" I scowl. He laughs. "There is nothing else on!" I insist. He walks out. I turn my attention back to the television.

Doug has a very good reason to laugh. The AMC channel is having a Godfather marathon this weekend -- continuous showings of Parts I, II and III. I really haven't been feeling well this weekend as spring allergies are kicking my tail, so I've been puttering around the house. Since Godfather is one of my favorite movies, I can turn it on in the middle and watch parts of it. I had Part II on yesterday when I was cleaning the living room. Last night when we got home we wanted to watch just a little bit of tv before bed, so we turned on Part I. Doug decided he couldn't go to bed until after Michael got his jaw broken. This afternoon I wanted to watch something, and since it happened to be in the same place as where we left off last night, I picked up Part I there. Although I haven't sat down to watch the movies in full this weekend, from the bits and pieces I've watched I've seen all of Part I and up until when Michael returns from Cuba in Part II. Of course, not in order.

I even watched about 15 minutes of Part III this morning when Doug was still asleep. That's all I could stand. You can tell Coppola made the film just because he needed the money. Unlike the first two which draw you in, this one seems like a parody of itself.

I think the other reason why Doug laughed is that we have the trilogy on DVD, so I can watch it any time I want. I don't have to have a marathon. Still, when it's on, I have to watch, it draws me in.

South Park jumps the shark

I am a devoted South Park fan. I love the way the creators, Trey Parker and Matt Stone, poke fun at political and controversial issues. Last night, however, they went to far and jumped the shark.

For those who aren't familiar with the term, "jump the shark" is a reference to the tv show Happy Days when the Fonze jumped a pool of sharks while he was on water skis. The term comes to mean that a show is pulling some crazy storyline to garner interest in a show that is starting to go downhill.

Last night South Park aired an episode that was parodied the exaggerations James Frey wrote in his book, A Million Little Pieces. So first off, the show was a bit dated. It only takes 6 days from start to finish on the show, so I thought it was weak picking an issue that was several months old. Secondly, the show was pretty flat and not very funny. But what really got me last night was that more than half the episode featured Oprah Winfrey's talking minge (vagina) and anus.

Evidently the minge was upset that Oprah is a workaholic and doesn't pay him much attention. He tries to discredit her by showing how the book is a fake. When that doesn't work, he takes hostages and shoots a cop. Most of the show shows a close-up of Oprah's groin area (abet fully clothed).

I just think it was in bad taste, and as I said, wasn't funny. Also, when South Park lampoons someone, they usually deserve it -- people like Paris Hilton. It was almost like they had to use Oprah because she was part of the book controversy, but didn't have anything to really make fun of her, so they used her vagina.

The main character in last night's episode was Towlie, a towel. He couldn't come up with an idea unless he was high, yet every time he was high, he came up with bad ideas, like faking his autobiography, A Million Little Fibers. I think maybe Trey and Matt had been smoke the weed when they came up for the idea for last night's show.

Berry, berry good wine

Doug and I had a project this weekend that we have wanted to do for a year – making strawberry wine. We hope will turn out delicious, although it will be several months before we know for sure. We are experimenting with six different variations to see what works and what doesn’t.

The project started Friday morning with a trip to Poteet, a town two hours to the south. Poteet is known as the strawberry capital of Texas and the strawberries from that area are super sweet. The wineries we’ve talked to in central Texas that make strawberry wine say they get their fruit from Poteet, so we decided that was the place to start. For those not familiar with the process for making fruit wine, it is very important that we get fruit that doesn’t have preservatives. It is also important that we get fruit that is freshly picked – grocery stores just won’t work. The fruit in grocery stores are picked early and ripen on the way to the market. This means that the strawberries won’t have the same sugar content (very important for wine) as berries we can get from farmers.

After arriving in Poteet (blink and you’ll miss the town), we stopped at a roadside fruit stand where the berries were gorgeous. We bought two flats, or 24 pints of strawberries and headed back to Austin.

Saturday morning we woke and headed to the market to pick up a few things we needed for the wine. Some of the batches are going to have raisins and/or dates. Once we got home, we started on the process. Each of the six 1-gallon batches called for three pounds of strawberries – and I was the one who hulled the berries – all 24 pints of them. We then crushed the berries in our juicer and poured the strawberry juice into 1 gallon jugs. Doug added the other ingredients and started the yeast. This morning he added the yeast to the fruit. I noticed this afternoon that some of the wine is already starting to ferment.

Last spring we missed the strawberry season and didn’t get to make wine. It’s a good thing we got the strawberries over the weekend as the guy at the fruit stand told us that it was starting to get too hot for strawberries (it’s been a short season this year and I doubt that the crop can survive this 100-degree weather). As it was, after the trip home in the trunk of the car and overnight on our kitchen counter, the berries were already starting to get mushy. That’s okay for wine and tells us that they were definitely not picked too early.

Now we are just waiting for blackberry season to make blackberry wine. Of course, we’ll make another batch of peach wine this summer.

Silly dog

Because it is so hot today, Dante has opted to wear his ears in a new style.

You think THIS is hot???

For the past week I've been remembering our trip to Rhode Island. While there, the high temperature was 37. I had stopped into Wal-Mart to pick up hats, gloves, scarves, so we wouldn't get too cold while walking around. There was a crusty New Englander in front of me at the checkout line and he had to comment on my buying winter gear in February. He asked if it was because they were on clearance. I explained I was from Texas and I had no winter gear (as we don't really have winter) and I needed some gloves because it was cold.

"You think this is cold?" he kept asking. While I didn't appreciate being made fun of by a total stranger, I later found it humorous. I knew he wouldn't be able to last more than three days during a Texas summer.

Of course we are beginning to brace ourselves for the heat. The air conditioner has already been on for a few weeks -- highs in the upper 80s, lower 90s. That is, until yesterday. It was 97 degrees yesterday. Just sitting on the back patio, watching Doug wash out bottles, I began to sweat. Today it will be 100. Given that it is only mid-April, we are in for a long, hot summer.

I wonder what that crusty Yankee would think of this weather?

A San Francisco treat

Although not as exciting as my parents' trip, Doug and I are planning a get-away to a place we've been wanting to visit for a several years -- San Francisco and Napa/Sonoma. Last July Doug won a poker tournament and received a $500 travel gift certificate. We've been sitting on it, trying to decide when/where to go (and to see if Doug won another tournament). Since we need to use it by July, Doug and I decided to get away once school was out in May. We'll also be using our frequent flyer miles. We are going to fly out on a Thursday night and back on Monday. Except for all the wine we purchase to bring back, we should be able to do this on the cheap.

I tell you, getting frequent flyer miles for your credit card, and using your credit card for all of your household bills, really can build up your frequent flyer miles. If we could, we would even put our mortgage on our credit card. Of course, the trick is to pay off your card, but we do that. We also receive airline rewards by grocery shopping and dining out at certain places.

We are both getting excited about our trip and are looking forward to it.

Second attempt

This is my second attempt at creating a mosaic flower pot. Better than the first, but still not there. I actually lost about a half dozen tiles when I was trying to grout the pot. I think I cut the glass triangle too wide for the curvature of the bottom of the pot. The tiles worked well on the rest of the pot, but not at the bottom. I still have some blue glass left, especially the lightest and darkest blues, so I will use it to make another pot.

Jealousy, thy name is daughter

My parents are leaving Wednesday for a two week cruise to the Mediterranean. About 10 days ago my mom was surfing the Web and found a great last minute deal. They are leaving from Portugal, going to Spain, Italy, Turkey and ending in Greece. I am so jealous! One of their ports of call, and one of the twelve reasons I'm jealous, is Santorini. According to a Travel channel special I saw several years ago, Santorini is just gorgeous and THE top destination for a romantic destination honeymoon. One of our favorite Greek restaurants in Austin has these huge photo murals on the wall of Santorini. When we eat at that restaurant, I like to imagine being on this Greek isle.

I guess it's a good thing we aren't going. From port to super Tuscans, we'd need two extra suitcases just to bring home all the wine we'd buy.

If you want to be jealous too, check out the itinerary.

New hobby

I am attempting to teach myself mosaics. I've been interesting in learning for years, especially after watching HGTV once and seeing how easy it looked to do. I've thought about enrolling in a class, but haven't done it. In our attempt to revitalize our backyard, we bought some plant stands that would look nice with pretty pots and flowers. Instead of buying pots, I decided to try my hand at mosaics. I finished my first pot this weekend. Not bad for a first attempt. Now I just have 9 more pots to do. Maybe they'll be done by the end of summer.

One thing I learned is that I need to wear gloves when grouting glass tiles. I didn't even think about it and got tiny cuts all over my right fingers.

Pour, pour wine

“Do you know what’s wrong with Texas wines?” Today I am a volunteer wine pourer at the Texas Hill Country Wine and Food Festival in Georgetown. I’m working the Artesa Winery table, pouring a cab/merlot blend and a chard. We have been slammed since the gates opened at noon.

I look at the guy in front of me who asked the question. He is a bit older, with bad teeth and a straw hat. I am sure his name is either Bubba or Joe Bob. I want to tell him that the problem with Texas wines is that most wineries produce for the ignorant masses like himself. Instead I just smile.

“The problem with Texas wines is they pour too much sugar in them.” I realize then how clueless this guy is. Adding sugar? We make wine, not kool-aid. I decide to educate him a bit. “Actually, most Texas vintners tend to grow what they think will sell, growing the more well-known and popular grape varieties, versus the grapes that are better for our hot, dry climate. Alamosa Winery is doing a good job making wine out of sangiovese and tempranillo, which grow really well in our climate.” I point to the table a few booths down, hoping he’d get the hint. It didn’t work.

“Do you know of any place that makes wine out of mustang grapes? Those are really well adapted to our climate.” Yeah, and a Ford LTD is really adapted to trailer parks, but that doesn’t make it NASCAR vehicle. There are a few Texas wineries that I’ve been to that have experimented with mustang grapes as part of a blend; it’s okay, but really, those are not wine grapes. I just smile at the guy and pour for the next person in line.

It’s really interesting watching the people who want a sip. For the most part, folks at the festival don’t know a lot about wine. That’s okay, and that’s a good reason to come to a wine festival to try and learn. These folks take sips, listen to what I tell them and may ask a few questions and move on. Sometimes they really like it, sometimes they don’t.

Then there are the folks like Bubba who think they know more than they do. I will be the first to admit, I don’t know a lot about wine. Doug knows more than I and he will say he doesn’t know much. Still, I would venture to guess that we know more than the average drinker. After all, we like wine, we like wineries and we try to learn about wines when we visit various wineries. But I have to hold my tongue when I get certain questions:

“Do you have any rose? What about white zinfandel?” No, but you can buy a box of each at HEB and let everyone know how white trash you are.

“What’s the difference between cabernet sauvignon and cabernet franc? Cabernet franc is more oaky, isn’t it?” This one, I try to explain oak comes from barreling. Cabernet sauvignon is a heavier, full-bodied wine while cabernet franc is more used for blending. It didn’t work as the woman really wasn’t interested in my answer and didn’t stop talking long enough to listen.

“Why don’t you say it’s a meritage of merlot and cab, instead of a blend?” Are you kidding? I’m having trouble with folks understanding what a blend is. Do you really think they would understand a word like meritage?

Since I’m not supposed to wear my volunteer t-shirt, folks think I’m actually from the Artesa Winery in Napa. Because I’m wearing a t-shirt from Hawaii that mom gave me years ago, some folks think I’m from the islands. If I had known I wouldn’t be wearing the food and wine t-shirt, I probably would have worn my Will Work for Wine t-shirt. Since I’m next to Gigi and she’s having a rough day, I could have easily gotten by with my I’m with Grumpy shirt. Folks ask me what is my favorite wine that I make. I am tempted to tell them it’s my peach wine, but decide against it. That’s not what the day is about.

Within an hour I’m worn out. The two and a half hour shift seems to take forever. I think I’ve spoken to more than 1,000 people. “This is a chardonnay for the chardonnay lover; Artesa is really well-known for their chardonnays.” People agree and some ladies come back for thirds. I hate when they ask me if I like it and I have to explain that I am a red drinker. “Our red? It’s a cab/merlot blend, with some syrah and cab franc mixed in as well. The grapes are from both Napa and Sonoma, with the vintners taking the very best elements from the various regions and grapes to produce this wine they call Elements. There was quite a buzz about it at the Four Seasons tasting last night.” My mouth gets tired from saying the same thing over and over. Gigi brings me a bottle of water so my tongue doesn’t swell.

Some of the wine tables have ran out of wine and shut down. I wonder if our four cases will be enough to last through our shift, much less the next one. However, we make it though and our relief finally comes. Pouring was fun, but exhausting – I really earned the admission to this festival. Before I leave I take another drink of the wine and head out of our booth. My pouring time is through and now it’s my time to enjoy the wines.

Job hunting update

Within 15 minutes of yesterday's posting regarding job hunting, I received an email from the university. They asked me to teach an advertising class during the second summer session. After discussing the pros and cons with Doug, I decided to accept.

While I've had some frustrations this semester with some of my students, over all, I really enjoy working with them. While I'm not an expert in advertising, I do have experience in it and teaching it will help me learn more. Plus, some of the areas I'm most interested in have to do with influencing behavior, which could be a meld of some advertising and PR. This also gives me a chance to finish the thesis and find just the right job.

The thing that struck me most about this whole thing was the timing. I had pretty much thought I was at a dead end on that track, at least for a semester or two. Not sure about the job hunting thing either. Then I just put it out there and suddenly there was a response. It was like giving it over to a higher power and things were just taken care of. I wonder if God reads blogs?

New toy

People often wonder why our Dante and Allegra don't have many toys. The only thing they seem to have at the house to play with are old buffalo bones (after they have gnawed off the meat and have sucked out the marrow), each other, and the kitty. There are two reasons for this. One, they are simply not interested in many toys. I throw a tennis ball and Allegra just looks at it (throw a bone, and she'll go get it). Get out a kong, and Dante will work hard to get the treat in less than two minutes and then doesn't bother with the kong until there is another treat inside.

The other reason they don't get toys is that they destroy them. Once we bought a stuffed squeaky toy and within 30 minutes Allegra had the stuffing strewn across the yard. It was a violent decapitation of a squirrel as I've ever seen, only instead of red blood and guts, it was white fluff.

Today I was feeling generous and bought a new toy for the dogs when I was at the store. I am trying to get them interested in fetching without worrying about the dents the buffalo bones will make in the walls and furniture. This toy seemed perfect. It was rubber, and I thought durable. It was soft and wouldn't leave dents when thrown. I got home, showed it to the dogs, and threw it. They were interested and went after it. They brought it back to me to throw again. They chased each other and were having a good time. They left me alone so I could have lunch in peace.

Fifteen minutes later, Allegra had snatched it from Dante and laid the toy at my feet. I picked it up and realized that it was soaked in dog slobber. Yew! Then I saw it -- they had chewed one of the spindles partially through. Inside was foam. Not wanting to give them a chance to digest the foam, I picked up the toy and set it on the counter. Within 15 minutes, the fun new toy was no more. Guess this means we have to stick with the bones.

Job hunting

In less than a month I will be done with teaching. I won't graduate, as my thesis isn't finished, but I will be available to go back to work. As such, I have started job hunting, posting my resume at various internet job sites (i.e. Monster, Career Builder, Hot Jobs), and have applied for a few positions.

It's been more than two years since I've seriously job hunted and I have forgotten what a humiliating and frustrating process it is. For example, this morning I was on my computer and received an email entitled "Agency Position." I got excited and wondered which PR agency it was. I opened the email to see that it was some mass marketing template to work for an insurance company -- you know, become an agent and have your own agency franchise.

I took a few minutes to visit the various job sites to renew my resume. One trick is to renew/refresh your resume at least weekly, to keep it at the top of the pile. While doing this, I was able to see how many folks have clicked on my resume -- not good. In two weeks my resume on Monster has only been viewed three times.

Occasionally I receive a call or email saying someone has viewed my resume and thinks I will be a perfect fit for a job in their company. What is the job? Sales. I'm not sure where on my resume it says that I have done sales. I have done marketing, I have done PR. I give great account service and I can get on the phone and pitch a reporter, but please, don't have me cold call some schlocky product. That is not me. I don't enjoy sales. I want to do communications, that is what I enjoy.

Now, a few people have asked me why don't I stay teaching. As of right now, that's not an option and not the direction I want to go. Ideally, I would like to work full time in the field and then teach a class or two at night. I have discussed the possibility with various folks about being an adjunct, and get told they are keeping me in mind. The issue is that right now there are no evening PR classes scheduled (mainly because no one has ever wanted to teach at night), and that we are hiring a new director for the school of journalism and mass communications. No one wants to make any decisions until the new director comes on board. Of course, that will be late summer, assuming that one of the current candidates gets the job.

I know that most likely my job will not come from want ads, and I am starting to work my network. Still, it's frustrating and a slow process and not one I enjoy. Every unanswered resume submission, every interview where you aren't hired, you wonder what it is about you, where you went wrong, why you aren't worthy. You ask people you've known for years if they know of any job openings in the field and the answer is no.

However trying the process is, it's still what one has to go through in job hunting. Maybe the difficulty is what will make the job worth it.

Blah!

I am feeling so gross today. Occasionally with my allergies I get this inner ear thing going on when I sleep. When I turn over to a particular side, I get vertigo and the bed spins. It's not really that fun to wake up and the bed is spinning, especially when you haven't even been drinking.

I had another episode of the bed spins this morning. I love waking up feeling nauseous. That, and I woke up early and couldn't fall back asleep. So I go to bed at 10:30 and wake up at 4, which is really like 3 with daylight savings. In the mean time, my head is pounding, my tummy is queasy, my ear hurts and my eyes are itchy. I couldn't even get Allegra to cuddle with me this morning. I am a total mess.

It's a good thing I'm not actually lecturing today. I have guest speakers. I will moderate, though, as we are doing a panel discussion.

I wonder if anyone would notice if I fell asleep at my desk. No, I can't do that. If I put my head down, I think I'll throw up. I'm feeling like being mean today and taking roll as a pop quiz. I know Monday after time change I'll be lucky to have 20 out of 50 students in an 8 a.m. class. If I have to be here, they should be too. :-)

Taking his life in his own paws

Lately Dexter has found a new place to nap--the dogs' bed. For a kitty who runs everytime he sees one of the dogs, he sure is living life dangerously.

My new toy

Most women dream of diamonds and jewelry. They spend months looking for the perfect pair of shoes. Their idea gift is a mink. Not me. For the longest time I wanted a bug zapper.

My obsession started last year when my favorite morning radio show was playing with these zappers on air. The various cast members spent the morning trying to electrocute each other. Given that I can't stand having bugs in the house, the zapper sounded cool.

Then I went to my my friend Karen's farm. She had several varieties and showed me how they worked. You simply hold down the button and swat a bug. ZAPP!! The bug is fried. How cool!

There were several times this last year when I wanted one. Like when a couple of big mosquitoes flew in the house. I couldn't find our regular swatter and eventually had to sic the dogs on the bugs. Then came beer nights. The guys regularly sit in the kitchen with the backdoor open. I understand their need for a breeze, but there isn't a screen on the door and the house would fill with flies. It would drive me crazy!

A few weeks ago Doug and I went to a home and garden show, looking for ideas for our backyard. I saw it from a distance and knew I had to have it -- The Executioner. The best in electronic bug zappers. I could hardly contain myself. Doug decided to indulge me by buying one.

It has been great. I've been able to perform shock and awe on everything from the smallest gnat to the largest mosquito. Picking up the racquet, I know I have the power of life and death in my hands. The first POP of The Executioner sends the dogs running outside. They know better than to get in my path.

Not all zappers are made the same. We were at a friend's the weekend and her zapper was definitely low power. It didn't hurt when you touched it and could barely kill a fly. The Executioner, on the other hand, leaves welts on human skin. Leave to Doug to test it out.

The Executioner has been the best entertainment that $15 could buy. Forget the diamonds, buy me a bug zapper!

Bad blogger!

I know that I've been a bad blogger lately. Evidently the lack of regular postings has both my mom and Doug's mom worried if we are still alive. We are, but it's spring in Austin. This is the best time of the year here, and one of the busiest. We are spending our free time doing outdoor things and attending festivals and such. In addition, my students and school are keeping me busy. Still, I have a lot of things to write about, so I will try to catch everyone up.

Happy anniversary, bloggy!

Today is the one year anniversary of our blog. I'm not sure how we are going to celebrate -- buy a gift, a romantic dinner, ... ? :-)

Maybe it will be that Doug will post an entry. After all, it was his infrequent Austin Update emails to his family that started it all.

If you have a chance, go to the March 2005 archives and read some of our first entries.

Mommy’s little helper

During the past week we've been working on our backyard. Because our big tree split last summer, one of the things we've been doing is adding feeders to encourage wildlife. We have added a martin house, a squirrel feeder (which so far has only attracted birds), and replaced our broken humming bird feeder (haven't seen any humming birds yet). The other thing I've done is started a container herb garden. One rosemary plant costs $1.50, while a packet of fresh rosemary at the grocery store is $2.99. Obviously, it is more cost effective to grow our own, and adds a little color to our patio, so I planted rosemary, thyme, basil, parsley and cilantro.

Every step of the way in our backyard improvement, Allegra has been there to help us out. When Doug was digging the hole to install the pole for the martin house, she was next to him, digging an alternate hole in case the first one didn't work. When we were pouring cement to install the pole, she was there supervising. When I was standing on the chair hanging the squirrel feeder, she was right there making sure I didn't fall. Even when I was planting my herbs, she was checking out the potting soil, making sure I had the right kind. After she inspected the potting soil, and made sure the herbs were up to her standards, Allegra showed her approval by lying down next to one of the herb containers and rolling on her back.



BTW, if you are wondering where Dante is during the backyard improvements, he is usually in another part of the yard, lying in the sun, working on his tan. If there is work to be done, rest assured that Dante won't be doing it. As you can tell from his expression and demeanor (notice the crossed paws), Dante thinks too highly of himself to actually submit to manual labor.

Our first tenant

As I posted last week, we decided to start a purple martin colony. On Sunday Doug spent the afternoon constructing the house. An hour after he had it up, I saw I bird roosting on the top of the house. I didn't get a good look, so I wasn't sure if it was a martin or not. Yesterday morning I saw what I knew was a martin. I was able to get near the house and I saw that he was checking out one of the compartments, but then flew off. In the evening I waited for him to return so I could get a photo, but no luck.

He was back this morning and I was able to get a shot before he flew off. I can't wait until the rest of the birds arrive.

In her shoes

Saturday night Doug and I were volunteering at the Zachary Scott Theatre, for the opening night of Bad Dates, a play about single life in Manhattan. We arrive an hour before the show to stuff programs, receive our assignments and assist the patrons before the show. C is the house manager tonight, and when it’s time she gathers the volunteers to brief us about the show.

“...so-and-so will work the bar, Dara and Doug, you need to work the back door, and L, you are on shoe duty.”

Shoe duty? We had no idea what C was talking about. “You didn’t hear about Thursday night?” C asked. We shook our heads no. “We have more than $6,000 worth of shoes on loan from Neiman Marcus Last Call as props. During intermission on Thursday’s preview, we had a patron go onstage and start trying on the shoes. I had to go in there and ask her to stop.” We were all shocked to hear the story, and chalked it up to one crazy woman.

C took us in the theater to see the set. Bad Dates is playing on the Arena stage, which is a theater in the round. The theater sits less than 150 people, and there are only three rows of seats. The stage is ground level. At times you feel like you can reach out and touch the actors. At the very least, you can touch the props near the edge of the stage.

The set for Bad Dates seems more touchable than most. It is supposed to be the bedroom of the character’s Manhattan apartment and looks to be something straight out of a Pottery Barn showroom; and you have to resist the urge to pick up one of the designer pillows or flip through the picture books on the nightstand. In the midst of all this, two dozen shoes are scattered around the set. Although I am one of those rare females without a shoe fetish and only have a minimal number of shoes in my closet, I was in awe of the array of shoes on the set. “Ooh, I could see myself in those boots,” I told Doug as I pointed to a pair of leather boots with a cow skin design. Never mind that the heels are about two inches too high for me to walk on comfortably and they don’t go with any of the clothes in my closet. “Don’t touch!” Doug hisses at me as I start to walk towards them. I resist the temptation, turning around and walking out of the theatre, watching the doors until it’s time to seat the patrons.

During the intermission, L and another woman guard the shoes. All is well. After the show is another story. Because it’s opening night, there is a party in the lobby – champagne, hors d’oeuvres and an open bar. Part of the volunteer responsibilities for opening night is to help set up and work the party. As the other volunteers started handing out champagne, Doug and I slipped into the theatre to clean up the empty wine cups and beer bottles left by the patrons. As I’m picking up the trash on the top row, I look down to the stage where Doug has my boots in his hand. “Doug!” I yell. I had just learned those boots cost $650 as close-out – I didn’t want to think what they were at full retail.

Evidently as the show ended, several patrons went down to the stage and started pick up the shoes. The boots were the third pair Doug had to take out of someone’s hands. In the five years we’ve been volunteering at the Zach, Doug and I thought we’d seen it all – from patrons taking hairbrushes and other props off the Shear Madness set, to a lady knitting on the front row of Santaland Diaries. The Santaland incident was the same performance where one lady left in the middle of the performance, stopping first to chastise Martin Burke for his character saying such mean things about children with handicaps. Is there any wonder why Martin has taken a break from the show? But I digress.

We were stunned by the folks who thought that the theatre was a place for their own personal shopping. I’m all for bringing the theatre to the masses, but when you start trying on the shoes of the character, you have gone a bit too far. If you loved the show, tell your friends. If you loved the shoes, go the Last Call.

Note: Because it was opening night we did not see the show. The theatre was full and we had to set up for the party during the second act. While we cannot comment personally on the show, we did hear good buzz about it during the party. We’ll comment on the show when we go back to watch it.

Regional differences

Sometimes it’s interesting to notice the various regional differences when it comes to food. One of the big things we noticed when we were in Rhode Island a couple of weeks ago was the propensity of Dunkin’ Donuts. There seemed to be one on every street corner. Doug and I made a car game out of spotting the various Dunkin’ Donut shops – the first person to spot a Dunkin’ Donuts punched the other person in the arm (our variation of Slug Bug). Needless to say we both ended the weekend with bruises up and down our arms. In the five days I was there, and the 12 days Doug was there, we managed to go to Dunkin’ Donuts only once, and that’s because I had to go to the bathroom and it was one of the few places that had public restrooms.

Austin, on the other hand, is not a big donut place. There are maybe two Dunkin’ Donuts in the entire town, three Krispy Kremes, and of course, Round Rock Donuts. If you bring donuts to the office, it usually takes until late-afternoon before they are all gone. I’ve even seen poor college students pass up free food if it was donuts. However, breakfast tacos are a popular breakfast in Austin. It’s always a treat when breakfast tacos are brought into the office – you know it’s going to be a good day.

After two weeks of workshops in Rhode Island, Doug’s company is holding a workshop in Austin this week, with several of the participants flying in from Rhode Island. Being big on the Dunkin’ Donuts, one of the guys said that he was excited to find a Dunkin’ Donuts in Austin. Yesterday Doug was in charge of getting breakfast for the workshop. Thinking that he would do something Texan, he brought three dozen breakfast tacos from Taco Shack, a perennial favorite in the Austin Chronicle readers’ poll.

Given the reactions of folks, you would have thought that Doug served them dog food. The New Englanders couldn’t believe that Texans would eat tacos for breakfast. The tacos were not a hit and there were still a couple dozen left by mid-morning. Doug wisely set out the remaining tacos for the rest of the staff and they were eaten within 10 minutes.

Go figure. I guess for the folks from Rhode Island, deep-fried sugar is okay for breakfast, but eggs and bacon wrapped in a tortilla is not.

Tech support frustration

Anyone who has ever had to deal with computer tech support can relate.

Problem child

A student walked into my office yesterday morning. “I need to talk to you about the PR project.”

“Twenty-five minutes before it’s due?” I brace myself for some excuse as to why it wasn’t done after three weeks.

“Actually, it’s about my group, one of our members didn’t bother ever showing up to group meetings and didn’t contribute to the plan.” I take a deep breath. I’m hearing this a lot this semester. I ask what group the student is in and I look at my list.

“Was it K?” I ask. K had emailed me Friday, saying she only knew the name of one of her team members and couldn’t find his email address. K wanted me to give her the names of her other group members. This is, there is a Web site for the class and all the information she needs is on there.

“No, it wasn’t K. She has been helping out and was even there last night when we were finishing the plan. It was L.”

I sigh. I thought that L would have learned something from last semester. Instead, my Problem Child is at it again.

Rewind to last semester. L was in one of my classes. She missed the first test – never a good sign. Then it comes time for the PR Project. Remembering the disaster of a group project when I was in college – this girl and I did all the work and two other guys totally flaked – I had the students pick the members of their group. After the students picked, I received this email from L. She was new to the school and didn’t know anyone in class and had missed several classes because of various issues, and didn’t have a group and what should she do??? The next time the class met, I asked people to raise their hand if they didn’t have a group. No one did. L wasn’t there.

I the following month I must have received 20 emails from her. This is when I started referring to her as my Problem Child. She never did find a group, so she had to do the plan on her own. She didn’t want to present, which was 10% of the project grade. She continued to ask questions about the plan, which she would have known the answers to if she had attended class. She was almost like a gnat that wouldn’t go away. We got through the projects, and she continued to show up only sporadically for class. The semester ends and I think I am done with her. Knowing that you have to have at least one, I wonder who will be my problem child this semester.

Turns out, it is L. She emails me at the beginning of the semester saying she is retaking my class because she knows she can make a better grade. “Oh great!” I think as I read her email. Yet she starts the semester by showing up to class. “Maybe she is getting serious,” I think. Yet I notice that she spends more time examining her split ends than taking notes. I chalk it up to having heard some of this stuff before. She’s not emailing me like before, yet when it does, they are from left field – what did I know about the school health fair that she needs to attend for one of her other classes? I teach PR – I know nothing about these health fairs, why is she emailing me? She made it to the first test, but I would have thought she could have done better with just a little effort. But after that, she started attending class less frequently.

I look at the student standing in front of me. I can’t tell him that L is my problem child and I had thought she was changing but hadn’t. I know what he’s feeling – he and the other team members put in time and effort and don’t want someone getting a free ride off of them. It’s not fair, yet I didn’t want to let him know that this happens in the real world as well.

I take a moment to describe my evaluation system and how I use team evaluations to determine the individual grades of each group member. I tell them that the evals are totally confidential. I explain to him that he and his team members need to provide an honest evaluation and if they don’t, I can’t lower the grade. I gave the example of last semester when a group didn’t mark down their other members and everyone got an A when only a few deserved it.

The student thanks me and is on his way. I sit there for a moment and let out a deep breath. The project is worth 20% of the students’ grade this semester. If a student does not participate at all in the project and gets a 0, the best they can hope for will be a C in the class. There are more of those students than I would like to admit this semester. But what can you do? I think a minute about my problem child and wonder what is going on with her. I can’t spend too much time dwelling on it. I have a class of students waiting downstairs for me, wanting to turn in their projects. I can only help the students who want to help themselves.

Update: Within an hour of posting this entry, I received an email from my problem child. She said that she has been trying to reach her group for two weeks and no one is responding to her. She said that she did contribute to the plan (her group members said she sent two sentences which were unusable), but that they were presenting tomorrow and didn't know what to do. She wanted me to help.

Going batty about birds

Ever since Doug & I moved into this house, we've talked about installing a purple martin house in our backyard and starting a colony. Usually it's been one thing or another and we don't get a house up in enough time.

Last week we saw it -- our window of opportunity. The scouts had started to arrive. Our neighbors have a couple of martin houses and usually what happens is that one or two birds will arrive before the rest of the colony. You have to have the house up for the scouts, or the colony won't nest there that year. Martins are great because they eat all the bugs around and they have a pretty singing voice. However, sparrows and starlings have taken over all of their natural habitats (and will take over the houses too, if allowed). The martin population is only one-tenth of what it was in the 1920s and the only houses they have now are the ones provided and maintained by humans.

Doug and I spent this weekend searching for a martin house. We must have gone to a half dozen places and couldn't find any and no one knew where we could go to find one. One place told us it was too early for the houses, but we told him that we saw the scouts. We did find a few houses where we get our dog food, but the houses were plastic and didn't look durable. I looked online and found one local place, but it was way too expensive.

Last night we tried one last place -- Wild Birds Unlimited. Not only did we find a martin house we liked, the owner gave us a lot of advice.

When we were at the store, we noticed they had bat houses. Austin is big on bats, as we have the largest urban bat colony in North America. Bats are also good for insects. Doug and I had been talking about getting a bat house and I had been reading on the bat conservation site about building one, so we bought one. We are going install it on our chimney, facing the backyard. Now folks will be able to pack a picnic and come watch the bats at our house instead of heading down to the Congress Avenue bridge.

One thing is for certain, between the martins and the bats, insects won't be a problem at our house.

Cake love

There are two things you must understand. First, my friend Cindy is an awesome baker. Her creations are usually too pretty to eat but too yummy not to. Cindy is gaining the reputation as one of the best bakers in Austin. Her company, Pretty Dishes, creates some of the best, and most unique desserts, in Central Texas.

Second, I have become fascinated with the baking contests on Food Network. Whether it's the Halloween cake competition, the birthday cake competition, or the Elvis cake competition, I watch in awe as the competitors create cake sculptures that can only be described as works of art.

Thursday night we had a girlfriends happy hour at Paggi House. The food was excellent, their special mojito was awesome, the deck and the view of the putting green and the Austin skyline was great, and of course, the conversation was lively. Earlier, Gigi and I were wondering about Cindy, as neither of us had heard from her in awhile. Just as we thought we were winding down, Cindy shows up, with a box. It was a belated birthday present for me (don't you just love celebrating your birthday for an entire week!).

I have to say, this was one of the most special birthday presents I have ever received. She baked a cake for me that could be in one of those competitions I love to watch. See the photo below. The flowers and the pot are fondant, making the creation 100% edible. The cake is chocolate with raspberry layers -- my two favorite flavor mixtures.

At the table you could just smell the flavors of the cake and I was anxious to dig in. Cindy and Gigi convinced me they didn't want any and that I should save it for Friday night and Doug's return from his business trip. Since he also is fascinated with the cake competitions, this was probably a good idea. I had to wrap the cake back up just so I couldn't smell it and be tempted.

Doug was amazed when he saw the cake. For as pretty as it was, it was just as delicious.

Just tired

"You look really good," my friend Tammy said as I met her for dinner tonight. "But tired; very tired. Did you get some sleep?"

I mumble incoherently. I appreciate Tammy taking me to dinner tonight, but I'm afraid I'm not very good company. I am dead exhausted.

My plane out of Newark was delayed two hours last night, not because of anything in Newark. The flight was coming in from Columbus, to Newark and then to Austin and there were weather issues in Columbus. It was almost midnight when the plane landed in Austin. Of course, I couldn't fall asleep on the flight. It was after 1 when I got to bed, and had to get up at 5 to get ready and leave for school.

When I got home last night, it looked like a tornado had gone through the living room. I guess it was hurricane Allegra. Cushions were off the couch and terrible twosome had found a notebook and some paperwork from school and scattered them on the floor of the dining room. Evidently they decided to read one of Doug's brewing books as well. Additionally, it has been raining here for the last week and there is mud and dirt all over the floor. I think the governor could declare this an emergency area. I pick the stuff up off the floor and go to bed, trying not to step on too many clumps of mud.

After four hours of sleep, I get up and get ready for the day. Luckily, I have a guest speaker today, making it easier because I don't have to lecture. I'm not sure that I would made much sense today. I'm done by noon, so I come head home and crawl back into bed. At this point, the only time I've spent at home is asleep, or getting ready for bed or getting up from bed. The dogs must still be feeling anxious about me being gone as they got into things this morning while I was at school. Another pile of paperwork to pick up before the nap.

I sleep for a couple of hours then get up and start the processes of checking mail, voice mail and email. What have I missed while I was in New England? I know that really it had only been 5 days that I was gone, but given the intensity of my class before the trip, it feels like I've been gone weeks. I make a list of errands I need to do, but I put that off until tomorrow. I have slept only 6 out of the last 36 hours and still feel in a fog. I unpack my suitcase and gather my dry cleaning, dropping it off before I meet Tammy.

Dinner with Tammy was good; we hadn't seen each other since the holidays and needed to catch up. I really wanted to stay and chat for hours, but she could tell I was just tired and made up an excuse of why she had to leave.

As much as I enjoy being home, I always find re-entry into the real world difficult. When you travel, you don't have to be on schedules and timelines. You get to see and do new and different things. When you get home, reality strikes and there are bills and jobs and chores. Like an astronaut coming back from a deep space mission, you need a period of decompression to adjust from traveling mode to real life mode. At 21 I could go days with just four hours sleep. At 36, it's much more difficult. Fortunately, no school, no teaching, no nothing on Tuesdays, so tomorrow I will be able to crawl into my decompression chamber. Until then, I'm just tired.

Heading home

Note: This entry was written at the Newark airport on Sunday, but wasn't posted until Monday.

No additional snow last night, but the temperature this morning was around 22 degrees. Doug and I decided to try to go seal hunting -- not to club them, but to shoot them with the camera. Funny thing is, other than a seal-watching cruise, we could find little information regarding where to see the seals. We asked a few locals, but they had no idea.



We headed out based on info we found on the internet. We found a place that seemed like it, and asked a lady we saw in the parking lot. She told us this was indeed the place, so we headed down the path. It was cold! The thing was, she was adamant about us following a certain path, which we did. When we finally got to the shore, there were no seals. There was a father and son who told us that the seals were several miles up shore. Freezing, and not wanting to hike that much further there and all the way back, the guy told us how to drive there. We hiked back to the car and figured all total we had done 3-4 miles in 20 degree weather and no seals. We tried to find the place he told us, but couldn't follow his directions. We stopped at a gas station and were directed back to the place we originally were. We actually didn't find this surprising, as we have yet to have good directions in Rhode Island. Even the maps and street signs seem dyslexic. At this point, we gave up our quest.

Instead, we headed up Rt. 102 which was supposed to be one of the prettiest drives in Rhode Island. It was and we could only imagine what the views would have been like in the fall. Along the way we stopped at the one of the oldest general stores in the U.S. It has been continuously operated since 1810.



After this, we decided it was time to head back towards the hotel, get a bite of lunch, and head to the airport. My flight was supposed to be at 4:23 and Doug dropped me off at 3 p.m. However, when I went to check in, they said the flight was getting ready to leave. Evidently, the earlier flight had been delayed and was getting ready to leave. They were putting me on this one, as my flight was supposed to be delayed as well. The only way to catch my connecting flight was to sprint down the concourse to the earlier (delayed) flight. I made it, being the last person on the plane, and got to Newark an hour ahead of schedule. No big deal, I thought. At least I wouldn’t be any later into Austin.

I’m slightly wrong with that. Thus far, the Austin flight is a half hour late, not leaving until almost 8, arriving after 11. That means arriving home at midnight, and still getting up at 5 for school. Oh well. I have a guest speaker tomorrow, so it doesn’t really matter if I can make a coherent sentence or not.

A Texan in a Connecticut Yankee's court

This morning we had headed out with the idea that we were going northeast, spending the day at Cape Cod. However, we had to stop first to pick up a gift for our dog-sitter, and at the store, the sales lady told us that the forecast for snow had changed from flurries to 3-4 inches. That was all we needed to hear to decide that the Cape, or anything outdoors, would not be such a great idea.

Instead, we headed south and west to Connecticut. We thought we might go to the aquarium in Mystic. However, we stopped at the state visitor's center to get a map, and Doug saw something that intrigued him -- Mark Twain's home and museum in Hartford. The girl at the visitor's station told us that Hartford wasn't too far and encouraged us to go, so we did. Twain and his family lived in this house for 17 years and this is where he wrote Huck Finn and Tom Sawyer and of course, A Connecticut Yankee in King Arthur's Court. Both of us adore Mark Twain, although Doug is more into him and knows more about him. We weren't allowed to take photos inside, but the outside is below.



After, we headed back to Rhode Island, stopping at the Foxwood Casino. This tribal casino would rival anything on the strip in Vegas, but set in the middle of the woods with no other buildings around. Inside was a smorgasbord for the senses. We looked around for a bit but opted not to stay. Given that it was Saturday night, it was just too crowded and noisy. Doug is planning to take the hour drive back there and play some poker Thursday night before heading home.

Tomorrow afternoon I will be flying back to Austin. We will probably do something in the morning, but we need to see how much snow we get during the night.

Newport news

Doug only had to work until lunch today. I kicked around a couple of towns this morning -- Pawtuxet and East Greenwich. The wind was starting to pick up and since the weather report forecasted winds from 30-40 mph today, I decided that we needed some winter gear and went to Wal-Mart to buy hats, scarves and gloves for us. I was glad I got some because we really needed it. Doug said I looked like a terrorist with my hat and scarf.



I picked up Doug from work and we decided to spend the afternoon at Newport. One of the things we did was the Cliff Walk. National Geographic Traveler named this 3.5 mile walk one of the "Fifty Places of a Lifetime." You walk along a cliff, one side is the ocean crashing 50 feet below. The other side is palatial mansions, owned at one time by the Vanderbilts and Astors. A few photos of the walk are below.









We spent the rest of the afternoon/evening exploring Newport and looking at great views of the ocean.



We're not sure yet what we'll do tomorrow. Depending on the weather (it might snow a little), we might head up to Mass. and/or Boston, or we might go to Conn. to an aquarium.

Happy birthday to me

Doug is in Rhode Island for work for the next two weeks, so I decided to join him for my birthday. I arrived last night. Tonight we went to the Federal Hill, the Italian area of Providence.



While Doug was working, I went exploring today. I ended up spending some time in the Village of Wickford, a cute little shopping area on the bay.

Leaving on a jet plane

It’s funny what you notice at the airport. I’ve always thought they were a great place for people watching. Sometimes I start making up stories about fellow travelers. Like the guy next to me, reading a Japanese-language newspaper and carrying a big rice cooker. Is he on the way to the U.S. to visit his son?

I look around to kill time as I am waiting on my layover in the Cleveland airport. This is my first, and presumably my last, visit to Cleveland. I can’t imagine there much here to interest me in actually taking a vacation here.

One thing I notice as I’m looking around is how everyone is dressed in heavy sweaters, coats and multiple layers. Of course, I’m the odd one out. I’m in short sleeves and my heavy coat is in the suitcase. After all, it was in the 70s when I left Austin. Plus I am flying in a 57-seat regional jet – space in overhead bins is a commodity fought over as much as crude oil.

People walk around the airport with their Bluetooth earpiece in their ear, eventhough they aren’t actually on the phone. I go into the bar to have a drink. I tend to drink when I’m flying, although I’m not exactly sure why. I don’t hate flying, but I don’t particularly care for it. Maybe it’s because I didn’t fly until I was 23 and my first trips consisted of flying a 25-seater twin prop. Luckily the flights were always fairly short, from Fayetteville to Dallas to catch a real plane, but still, by the time I walked off those planes, I felt like I had shoved into a dryer on the low tumble cycle. Still, it was better than the 6-seater I would occasionally fly with Wal-Mart, if my trips had at least four others going with me. One of those trips the weather was so bad that we literally kissed the ground when we landed.

There is a lady with two colleagues at the next table in the bar. She looks as though she is either a Baptist Sunday School teacher or that she sells Mary Kay. At the very least, she is an aging cheerleader, with a big diamond wedding ring. I am surprised at the amount of make-up she wears. That’s nothing you really see up north. In the south, it’s common to not go to the grocery store without first having your nails done. Austin, however, is a bit different – when a substantial portion of the female population doesn’t bother to shave their legs or armpits, make-up is the last of one’s worries.

I can’t eavesdrop on the woman’s conversation. My sinus and allergy issues went to my ears during the first leg of my flight and I can’t hear out of my right ear – it feels like it is stuffed with cotton. I just have to make up the dialog for this woman’s conversation. It’s not all that interesting.

Unfortunately the flight did nothing to diminish my sense of smell. A lady walks in and sits at the table behind me. I don’t see her, and can’t describe her, but I can definitely SMELL her. She reeks of perfume. She’s five feet away and her perfume overwhelms me. It’s expensive perfume, and maybe I would like it if it didn’t attack my olfactory senses. At this point, I decide it’s time to pay my bar tab and walk to my gate.

When I get to my gate, I have a stark realization – there is not a concourse that you walk through to get to the plane. You actually walk outside, down the tarmac and up those rolling stairs to board. I hate that. It reminds me of those dreaded twin props. Plus, I don’t have my jacket and it’s cold outside. I will have to order another drink from the flight attendant once I get on board.

The flight boards, we take off, and it’s time to get the personal electronics out. I forgot to turn off my portable DVD player, so the battery ran low during the layover – no Law & Order to amuse me. Instead, I take out my iPod and use my noise-canceling headsets to listen to the music I adored as a teen. I look out the window, into the darkness, staring at the lights below. It’s very different from flying out of Texas, especially heading west. There are tons of lights below – every town looks like a big city. It’s a fairly clear night, but we do pass through some clouds. At night they look like shadows dancing against the ground. I notice the blinking lights on the wing of the plane. Suddenly, I remember a Twilight Zone episode where a plane passenger sees a face against his window. Although I can’t remember any of the other episodes of the Twilight Zone, this snippet comes back to me as clearly as if the incident happened to me. It always does whenever I’m flying at night – I’ve had the remembrance before. My heart beats faster and I take drink. I try to think of something other than Rod Serling.

The plane starts its decent into Providence. I realize that now both my ears are clogged, but figure my hearing will be okay by the morning. I am looking forward to this trip, if for no other reason that seeing a new part of the country.

Event horizon

Sorry the posts have been few and far between lately. I was taking a weekend class where we covered an entire semester in three weeks. Let's just say it was hectic. We also took a case study approach, analyzing case studies from Harvard Business School and applying our learnings and other readings. We basically taught ourselves with the prof there to guide us. As you can imagine, it was very intense.

I took my final tonight (online) and have my grades. I made an A, which means I kept my 4.0. In fact, that's what I'm graduating with.

Yup, that was my last class. My course work is done.

Now, I get to spend the rest of the semester on my thesis. I'm not sure if I will make the March deadline for a May graduation, but if not, it will be August. Either way, I will be done with it by the end of this semester.

The end is in sight. My event horizon.

BTW, on Wednesday I am heading to Rhode Island for a few days. Doug is there for two weeks on business and it made more sense for me to go up there for a few days now that this class is over than for him to come home. I've never spent much time in New England so I am looking forward to it. Any suggestions on places to see or things to do are welcomed.

Doug went ahead and gave me my birthday present -- a camera to replace the one left at Texas Stadium. Like my other one, it's a Canon PowerShot, this time a 5 megapixel. If I get the software and stuff figured out, I will post photos while I'm up there. At the very least, I will do the camera phone thing.

Hawaiian name

I'll have to remember this the next time we go to Hawaii:

Your Hawaiian Name is:

Nani Iolana

What's your Hawaiian Name?

Small world

About 40 years ago Doug's mother became friends with a fellow teacher in Belton, MO. His mother left that district to teach in Chillicothe, while her friend, Kay, eventually moved to Lubbock, TX. They still stay in contact.

The other day Barbara forwarded an email from me to Kay. It was about the son-in-law (Blake) of a friend of mine (Gary) who was in a terrible accident. Come to find out that Kay knew Blake when he taught at her school, and knows Misty (Gary's daughter & Blake's wife) as well. According to Kay, there has been such outpouring of warmth from the entire Lubbock community.

It's just amazing how small this world really is.

Say a little prayer

I got word from my friend Gary today. His son-in-law was in a skiing accident last Friday and has been in a coma ever since. Blake is married to Gary's oldest daughter, Misty, and they have a 3 year-old son and Misty is expecting a little girl. Blake is an assistant principal at Lubbock High School. This article doesn't say much; Gary said that two of Blake's vertebrae are crushed. If you could, please say a prayer for Blake and Misty.

It is any wonder why I live in Austin?

In just a few weeks it will be 6 years since we moved to Austin. Since going off to college, the only town I've lived in longer was Fayetteville, which really doesn't count because 4 of those 7 years were spent in college.

Now it makes sense why I've stayed in Austin so long. According to this quiz, Austin is the American city that best suits me. Which city best suits you?



>

American Cities That Best Fit You:

60% Austin

55% Atlanta

55% Honolulu

55% Miami

55% Washington, DC

Which American Cities Best Fit You?

Dog catcher

I'm sitting at the kitchen table all afternoon, working on school work with my laptop. Every so often Allegra comes to check on me. She nudges me for a pat on the head or brings me her bone to throw. I happily comply. I like working in this spot because I can look out the window. Occasionally I catch one of the dogs rolling in the grass, the sun on their belly. It makes me smile.

Afternoon turns to dusk and I watch the light fade from the sky. I finally decide to take a break. I turn around and walk five feet, into the darkened living room. I see an indistinguishable mass on the couch and I turn on the light. It's Allegra, looking like a kid with her hand caught in the cookie jar. She knows she's not supposed to be on the couch and she's waiting to see what wrath I will hurl her way. I'm too taken aback from her boldness to do much more than have her stay until I take her photo and send it to her daddy. "Just you wait until your father gets home, young lady!" I want to say. After all, I was less than 10 feet away with my back turned when she decided the no furniture rule didn't apply to her. She must have known she would get caught, but somehow she didn't care. Maybe she was trying to tell me that I was too wrapped up in my work to notice what she was doing. Now she's been noticed, now she's been caught and now she slinks off the couch and into the hall, where she'll wait for Doug to come home.

Typically students

I'm not long enough in my teaching career to be jaded, but several weeks into my second semester teaching at Texas State University-San Marcos, I've realized that there truly are typical students. I don't mean that all the students are the same, but that most students can fit into one of several categories.

The Inquisitor -- These are the students that ask the questions that you don't want to hear, as they have nothing to do with the actual lecture. Stuff like, "are we having a quiz today?". They also are the ones who beg for you to let the class out early or to give attendance points that day. Two things about them -- one, they are always in class and are usually prepared for the pop quiz, so what does it matter, and two, as a teacher you don't let the students out early so why does the Inquisitor think you'll start? Inquistors can be males or females and generally do well in class. But they do try to see how they can work the angles.

The Eager Beaver -- I have to admit, I have a tendency to fall into this category myself. These are students too eager to participate in class and willing to answer the teacher's questions. As a teacher, you have to be careful that the eager beaver doesn't hog all the class time and/or doesn't hijack the class to take it in the direction he/she wants. As a student, I've learned to scale back on this a bit.

Still Waters Run Deep -- These are students who truly take in everything you say, but hardly contribute to class. Yet, if they feel you are approachable, they will talk with you outside the class or send emails, asking a lot of questions on the course topic. Mainly these students suffer a bit of communication apprehension about speaking up in class. In many ways I find these students the most rewarding, as they show insight and you know that not only are you reaching them, they are thinking about the class after they walk out of the lecture hall.

Zombies -- The vast majority of students in larger-sized classes. They come, maybe they take notes, maybe they don't, maybe they nod their head if you are lucky, but they don't answer or ask questions. Sometimes you really wonder if you are reaching them. They go under the idea that if they don't make waves, they won't be noticed. Maybe this is true, as many times in larger classes you won't learn their names.

World Dominators -- Eager beavers with more than a streak of aggression. They thrive knowing that they have the top scores in the class or did the best on group projects. I'm not sure if Dominators are all that common with the millenniums (students in the 18-22 year old range), but it is still common with the Gen X'ers. I speak from experience (on a personal note: don't ever compete with my grad school group because we WILL decimate you!).

Little Darlings -- I call them this because I have the feeling they were mamma's little darlings growing up. These are the students who send you an email saying they over slept, but want to know what you covered in class that day. I actually had one walk in at the end of class the other day wanting to know what they missed. Yeah, right, get a clue. These are also the students who will use the class intranet site sending an email to the entire class begging for notes or a study partner without realizing that the teacher sees those as well.

The Invisibles -- As the name implies, these are students who you never see, usually because they are never there. You will see them on test day and will need an ID to verify they are enrolled in your class. Of course, they wonder why they don't do well in class, but they are never there to ask you why.

This is just a sampling of what I've seen in my classes. Of course some of these students you reach, and some of them you don't. There is a deep satisfaction when at the end of the semester, a student says they really enjoyed your class or has decided to make your subject their career. To me, that's what it's all about.

'70s style is back

Elton John or Rachel Hollon? You decide.

Welcome to my 3 weeks of hell

You know you are leaving the house way too early in the morning if the dogs are still asleep. The mornings I have to teach I leave the house by 6:15 and the dogs are still sound asleep. They don't even bother seeing if they can go with me. The only one in the house awake is Dexter, and being a cat, he doesn't care if I come or go, as long as his dish is full.

Here I am again at school for another 8 a.m. class. Only it's Saturday, and I'm a student, not a teacher. Last night was the first meeting of my weekend class. For the next three weeks, a group of us will meet Friday nights, from 6-9:30 and all day Saturday, from 8-5, to study creativity and problem solving. We will cover a full semester of work during this time, which means I will have no spare time, even during the week. Still, this is my last class and if last night was any indication, it will be very interesting.

The hardest part will be Fridays. I teach at 8 a.m. and 10 a.m. on Fridays, then I'm done for the day. Only I'm not done, as I have to hang out until class. Yesterday I spent the time editing the paper we had to turn at the start of class last night. Still, I arrived on campus at 7:15 a.m. and didn't leave until 9:45 p.m. After giving a friend a ride home, it was 11 when I got home. Morning came a bit early today. It's a good thing I can get away with jeans and a t-shirt. Studentship has its benefits. :-)

Need to scoot; class starts in a bit.

Litter box

Guess Dexter is hinting that his kitty litter needs changed.

Welcome, new blogger!

A new person joined the world of blogging yesterday. Somehow Doug and I convinced his mom to start blogging. Feel free to check it out. For years she has been writing an email called her Daily Saga, and when we started blogging we told her how easy it was and how this might be an interesting alternative to email, especially as she can publish from any computer (heck, I published from Hawaii). This weekend I showed her a bit of the blog and offered to set one up for her. Low and behold, when she got back home she did it herself. Now that she's done her first post, I can't wait to see the rest.