An Overdue Trip Well Worth the Wait

San Francisco was san-frantastic. I loved it more than I could imagine, considering the whole of my experience with the left coast is news of their left politics and the high percentage of left-handers. Great wine, cool weather, plenty of visual oomph, aaaand it didn't quake, shake and float off into the ocean while we were there. What's not to love?

So this blog is just about the first two days of our trip to make it a more manageable typing and reading experience.

First, though, it wasn't what we expected, and that was good and bad, starting with wine country. I thought it would be much more high brow. You would pass by a winery and then a trailer, a beautiful little town and then a gravel pit and truck yard. Guessing what eye sore came next became our little running joke. (Oh and another little game I liked to play was 'spot the solar panels'--much like when my sister and I were kids and would yell out "AIRBRUSH" when we drove into Panama City for vacation with my parents.)

When we first arrived, we drove through downtown and across the Golden Gate Bridge and ended up detouring to eat and browse Sausalito. It was wonderful with divine views of the city, a great personality and adorable cafes. Sausalito was also our first intro to the fact that even the tiniest place would have hard-to-pronounce sandwiches and mysterious ingredients. Delicious, but not the straight forward food you find in Texas.

After a wonderful morning strolling that town, he headed north for the official beginning of our first leg of the trip in Sonoma County. We stayed at the Hyatt in Santa Rosa, which I wouldn't recommend. While it had a pretty facade, they nickel-and-dimed us for everything(--hello, even McDonald's gives FREE wifi!) and it was devoid of personality. Trust me that if Kyle and I can't scrape personality from those around us after we have been drinking wine, than there is none to be found. Santa Rosa is a cute little town(if you call 161,ooo people little), again with the odd dichotomy of froo-froo hotels right on top of the homeless shelter. We did go out one night in Santa Rosa and it was interesting in it's own right. The first bar we went to had a suspect- looking black bus out front, which turned out to be the tour bus for the guitarist from the Scorpions. We also stopped into the Toad in the Wall next door which was so bad we didn't even finish our beers. The singer was bad mouthing the south and I got an ugly reminder from a lonely lesbian that, yes, some people really are fine with being rude and disconnected from the rest of the human race.

The last bar was great with live music and $16 glasses of wine. We mourned the fact we didn't go there first and finally headed back to the hotel.

On that note, when you go to Northern Callie, just get ready to bend over, grab your ankles and hand over your wallet.

Anyways, it was hard to get our bearings on where to go and what to do at first, but Kyle proved to have killer travel instincts, the first sign of this being when we stumbled across the Kendall-Jackson winery. KJ proved to be auspicious not only for the wonderful taste explosion I was to have, but for the very good advice our tasting expert gave us that helped us navigate the next few days. They had a wine and food pairing so unbelievable that had you only heard the audio of that delectable experience, you would have thought I was having an hour long orgasm. Each course was designed to bring out the true fullness of each wine. OH MY GOD. Sitting outside on the patio in the gardens with a handsome man, succulent food and elegant beverages, what more could a girl ask for? We had made a pact that we would not buy bottles of wine from every place we visited, but broke it on that very first afternoon. (Notice the telltale bag below.)

The next morning we drove to Armstrong Redwood State Natural Reserve and went on a six mile hike. The majestic redwoods tower over you with perspective-inspiring majesty and the peaceful mood seeps into your entire being. The hike was on the challenging side and I was glad Kyle brought our camel-packs.

Because we were already an hour north, we wound our way over to the famous Hwy 1 and drove the gorgeous and at-times nauseating turns up the coast. (Yes, those are sea lions. So cool!)

Let me tell you, California drivers are not scared to drive with one foot on the accelerator and and one foot at the doorway to heaven, and Kyle fell right in line. Can you see my face turning as green as the vegetation just at the memory? The scenery made up for it, but I only let go of the 'oh-shit' handle above the passenger door to take pictures.

We cut back south on the main highways and stopped in Healdsburg on a recommendation. Do not miss this little gem. Actually if you go to Sonoma, try to find a smaller hotel or b and b on a winery around Healdsburg. It's that good. We grabbed a divine Pinot, that turned out to be this particular wine maker's first official production of just 300 bottles (Chavez) and sat on the square in the waning sunlight snacking on salami, local cheese and olives. Perfection.

Well, right now, fifty lbs of perfection just climbed his sleepy self into my lap and so I say adieu and will reminisce more with you next time.

Drama at the lemonade stand

So I finally cave to the idea of a lemonade stand, despite the fact that it is 104 degrees. (At these temps, we don't even bother with heat index, because it is just f%#$n hot.) We set up on the corner of a local park with a 4-way stop and shade. Just smile and wave boys. just smile and wave.

We have a nice customer walk up to us with his wife and a few moments later we are joined as well be some friends. Chatting, smiling, sweating--it's all good until CRASH.

In slo-mo we all turn around and realize there is a marroon SUV 'parked' at a very disturbing angle next to our truck. Kyle and the other adults start to run over to the parking lot while I stay at the corner with the boys. The trouble is going to be handled and I am not ready to deal with the fact that this just became one seriously expensive lemonade stand so I turn back to our entrepreneurial undertaking.

But when I glance back, the woman and her two dogs and her red SUV are gone. Wow, that was a quick exchange of information, I think.

Or not. Hit and run, people. What the %$#^%? Seriously? Apparently after I turned around, she pulled out and swerved hitting the curb and veering off into the grass before disappearing around the corner without giving us the courtesy of clearly viewing her liscence plate.

So a cute cop shows up to take our info, but of course they haven't been able to find her. We are still vigilant though eyeing every marroon SUV for damage to her rear passenger side.

So the boys made roughly $40 and are now on the verge of buying themselves a bike ramp, which I am very nervous about. Why do little boys (hell big boys too for that matter) have to be interested in all things that can break your bones?

We will be out $300 for our deductible, not to mention the fact that not only am I driving a pick-up in a suit and heals everyday to and from work that is stick shift, (yes, that does mean stop-and-go traffic for up to 100 miles a day, thank you for noticing) it means that now I get to drive a wrecked, stick shift, pick up which will now be undervalued and difficult to sell.

Did I mention it is pretty much impossible to get in and out of said vehicle in a lady like fashion and that I wear a skirt or dress almost every day. Yup. Sexay.

But I cannot be bothered with that now, because we are leaving for Sonoma Valley in an hour and reality will be here when I get back.

Uugghhh

A flash back from 5 months ago in the early days of my worst work experience ever:

Attitude-smattitude. It seems to be a topic of constant debate in my head these days because I am embroiled in cold calling and training--both of which can be serious energy drains. Back and forth I go (not unlike the constant u-turns I make learning a new territory--in a stick shift, don't even get me started). Gung-ho one call, and down in the dumps the next depending on the degree of reception I received. Was she warm and friendly until realizing I was a salesperson? Or was he indifferent and on edge until I happened to small talk about something that interested him?

So I say to myself, "Self, You cannot be swayed but such flimsy impulses as those coming from a bored receptionist. Chin up, shoulders back. Learn to serve others through your job." A very philosophical--yeah even religious--to be of service to everyone, no matter the endeavor--even cold calling. Until I end up wanting to service the back side of someone's head.

Then I will think, Why not take the opportunity to become really, really good at this. Nobody hates doing things they are good at. That idea holds up for a while, until I think about hookers. I bet they hate doing things they are good at.

But I will not stop. I run through more pick-me ups. What else would you be doing on a Tuesday morning? (No shock why that one didn't work.) Whistle while you work. The more you complete today, the less you have to do in the future. (This idea actually does hold water pretty well actually.)

I change activities and make phone calls for a while to give my clutch foot a break. I bargain with myself that if I call on just two more, I will not feel guilt over the M&Ms I am going to reward myself with. (I guess it would be redundant to write about why I have gained five pounds since starting work.)

Never Passe

Chaka Khan is on Phineas and Ferb (my boys' favorite cartoon). That is so hilarious I can't even stand it. First because who doesn't love a good blast from the past and second because Kyle, to this day, will say, "Chaka Khan" any time something sassay (yes, that's sassy with a sassay accent).

I was a little too sassay this weekend myself and sent myself home two nights in a row by 10:30. Too much overindulgence--yikes! (I thought they were exaggerating about the perfect margarita at Baja, but there weren't.) I could blame it on the fact that I am starting to let a little bit of "freak out" creep in regarding the soon-to-be desperate need to make commission checks. Or I could just own up to the fact that I occasionally like to act like I'm twenty again.

Either way, too much is too much.

So I am going to try to fit yoga back into the schedule this week to make amends to my physical health. (Sorry little liver. Just kidding kidneys.) I will also try to start packing a healthy lunch. Did I mention we also put ourselves on a cash diet?--thriftay. And I had better start selling and getting commission before the savings runs out. But one thing at a time.

Here I am talking about how too much is too much and then I decide to cut back on enjoying beverages, adding exercise, working harder, spending less. Where is my Libra balance when I need it?