Wine for Inauspicious Beginnings

I mentioned in my last post that Steve and I have taken a few big trips together, and that they have all turned out pretty terrifically. What I didn't mention is that these trips didn't always get off to such a great start.

For the camping trip we took to Yellowstone, The Tetons, etc. we flew to Sacramento, rented a car, bought a bunch of gear at a local K-Mart, and were on our way. We had rented a compact car through Dollar Rent-a-Car, for some ridiculously low sum, especially since we were renting the car for a month. As some of you may know, at Dollar, the car you sign up for is seldom the car you actually get. Many is the time I have rented a sub-compact car for a great low price, only to wind up driving off their lot in a stretch limo, trying desperately to find street parking for what is possibly the biggest car in the world.

This trip was no exception. We went in expecting a compact, and after waiting around for an hour, we drove away in a mini-van. This actually turned out to be a blessing in disguise, since we had drastically underestimated just how much space all that camping crap would take up, and had we tried to cram both ourselves and all that gear into a compact, we would have wound up trying ditch each other by the side of the road after the first week.

On our first full day of driving said mini-van, we pulled into a gas station to fill up, me in the passenger seat, gigantic road atlas in my lap. Not being sure what side of the car the gas tank was on, I stuck my head out the window to see if it was on my side. As I did so, the window rolled up up up, taking my head with it, until I was was flapping my arms around, almost unable to breathe, gasping "Steve, roll it down, roll it down" desperately looking for the button that would roll the window down.

I felt like one of those dandelions we used to pick from the grass when we were younger, when we would sing "The mommy had a baby and it's head popped off", whereupon we would press our thumbnail under the flower and squeeze until the flower flicked off of the stem. I was desperately hoping that my head was not about to go the way of the dandelion flower.

I naturally assumed that somehow this predicament I found myself in was somehow Steve's doing. I thought he had turned off the car and that some security feature caused the windows to automatically roll up, placing a death grip on anything that might be in their path. Seriously, I think if I had had a hand in there and not my head, I would have lost digits.

The strangulation-by-window in reality only lasted about 2 seconds, as my fingers quickly found the window button and rolled the window down. This is when I discovered that I had actually, inadvertently, rolled my own head up in the window. When I leaned forward to look out the window for the gas tank, the giant atlas in my lap had pressed against the window button, causing it to roll up.

Now, something very primal seems to happen in your body when the throat is squeezed too tightly, and a strange sort of hysteria rose up in me, and the fact that I had just rolled my own head up in a car window made me laugh like a lunatic and then burst into tears. Steve was watching me with a look of concern, I think because he was thinking that it was going to be a very long trip...

Wine for Unusual Proposals

As I mentioned in my last post, Steve and I are planning the mother of all trips, and in preparation for the Italy leg of our travels, I have enrolled myself in an Italian class. So far I have had two lessons, and I can now say various combinations of the verbs to be and to have, as well as the phrases: "My name is Jocelyn", "the cat is white" and "the car is red". Going forward, I will have to learn how to say "I do not want McDonald's" and "I did not vote for George Bush".

Steve and I in the course of our 9 years together have gone on quite a few fun trips, the main one of which was a big camping trip out west to Oregon, Idaho, Yellowstone and the Tetons among other places. The idea of me camping was something that surprised almost everyone who knew me, not least of all me because I am not really what you would call an outdoorsy girl normally.

I don't love dirt or being dirty, I tend to be very sensitive to bad smells and I have a bit of a fear of pit toilets, mainly because they are often disgusting, but also because you can never really be sure what is down there, and I imagine being attacked from below by a giant poo monster or some other beast of fecal origins.

But to my surprise I loved it. I came to enjoy not showering for several days at a time, I loved nothing more than sitting with Steve by the campfire at night, cooking corn, sweet potatoes, chicken and steak over it, and then afterward staring into the flames for hours on end; and amazingly, at the National Park Campgrounds the pit toilets were spotless and odor-free. I even managed, for the first time in my life, to pee outside while on hikes.

On one such hike, Steve and I had climbed six miles, essentially up a mountain. After a bit of crying (me) and a bit of cajoling (Steve), we finally reached the summit, and before us lay the most extraordinary views I have ever seen, and not another person in sight. Before starting back down the mountain, I made Steve hide behind a small, abandoned, stone Ranger's hut while I relieved myself, because if there's one thing i don't do, it's pee in front of people, not even my then-boyfriend.

So Steve obliged and hid behind the hut, assuring me that he wouldn't look at me. So I squatted down to do my business, staring down to make sure I didn't accidentally wee on my shoes, when I felt it: that feeling you get when someone is watching you. I looked up, and sure enough, not only was Steve watching me, but he was also taking my picture.

Outraged, I huffily flounced past him on my way down the mountain, when he grabbed me by the arm, stood me up on one of the rocks, and asked me to marry him. It was kind of hard to be mad about the whole wee-wee-photo debacle after that. Well played, Steve. That's one damn good way to get yourself out of an argument, that's for sure.

So, my Wine for Unusual Proposals is a Greenwood Ridge Vineyards 2006 Late Harvest White Riesling, because, come on, who doesn't love a Riesling, and a dessert, botrytis Riesling to boot? It's all the things a lovely dessert wine should be: peachy, apricot-ey, and honeysuckley, with a sweetness that is offset by some bright acidity. And at $22 a bottle, it's a steal!