Sidwayz in the Heart O' the Mountain

With friends in town and the harvest right around the corner. I thought (MD did actually) that wine tasting was in order. I fired a line to Brandon - my wicked sweet cousin - to see if I could bring a couple friends up for a tasting and tour of the winery. I didn't want to loft the expectations too high, so I told the friends we'd go up and be back to tuck the kids in. Little did we know, Brandon had a hot one planned for us.

We showed up at the Heart O' the Mountain Winery tucked away in the redwoods of Scotts Valley in the early evening and Brandon was ready for us with some education on viticulture and the estate. Uncle Bob, Brandon's father, purchased the estate in the early 70's. The prior owner of the estate being Alfred Hitchcock himself.

We learned about sugar content and testing it with this funny gadget, and from plant to harvest of the pinot that blanketed the surrounding hillsides with the ocean and Monterey as the backdrop to this beautiful evening. When Hitchcock purchased the 200-acre estate in 1940, it was known as 'The Heart of the Mountain' hence the name chosen by my the family for the pinot growing on the hillsides.

Brandon showed us the room Grace Kelly stayed in on her visits to the estate, how Jimmy Stewart would stop for relaxing getaways and creative brainstorming with AH, and how it was Cary Grant's favorite Californian destination. Ingrid Bergman frequented the estate for photo shoots with AH and whatever else goes on between artist and muse.

To the wine, we tasted and tasted some more. Brandon was more that great with his level of knowledge on wine and its processes. Bottomline, it's not just about the grape, but everything from the story, the soil and treatment at all aspects of the harvesting and bottling and selling process.

The estate is rediculously beautiful, from the narrow casms of the quant cellars to the famous AH Rose Garden. We tinkered around the old cars, sat in AH's personal deck teek furniture and continued to drink the best pinot bottle in the world.

Fun all around and we finished off the night back at the winery with the stars lighting our night and Willie Nelson laying down the tracks. While a smile never left MD's face the entire night, our friend from Boston was beside himself and Hunter acted like he had a PHD in wine by the end of the night, our actions spoke to the contentness in our minds and hearts.

As in any talk with a guru, we dispelled the bullshit theory about 'legs' on wine - it has absolutely nothing to do with the quality of wine you knobs! So next time uncle dipshit's got his chest pumped up and refracting the light in his glass to see the legs better, tell him to kick rocks.

I'd like to thank Brandon, Uncle Bob and Aunt Judy for an experience of a lifetime. Love the fam!

Just What I Needed

It's close, yo. Less than 48 hours away and the Aquaholics will be heading to Westshore on the Lake Tahoe Epic in the persuit of happiness. But we got things happening in the meantime and I can only report that we're going to make it there whether the rental agency likes how we roll or not.

I got to say, working at EMC has been really great and I feel I fit there in the work environment, but since the young guns moved out from Boston, the floor has been more lively, the pain caves aren't so painful and even the shit ball coffee tastes a little less shitty. On that note, the managers stepped up their game faces and called on their secretary to plan a beach day last Thursday. On a wellness scale the day was well to very-well and after a 3 hour meeting highlighted by Big Ed's motivating speech on 'bottomlines' and 'fullfilling promises' we made the journey over the hill for some fun in the sun with the EMC All Star BURA squad, us.

Julia blew it up with tents, TOGO's, music and a helluva rockin' atmosphere. She special ordered this incredible weather that set the backdrop to a Utopian work day(is there work in Utopia? I hope not).

As we got underway there was a debate whether alcohol should be purchased. In one corner there was the 'well, it just doesn't make sense to get everyone liquored up and drive back over the hill' and meanwhile, in the other corner they are on the horn placing an order for 4 12vers of miller light and whatever else looks good. Come on, we're partying here! Work hard play hard and keep an even keel.

KT rolled in with his 6 volleyballs and little booties to keep his feet cool in the blistering hot sand - yea, blisters on everyone's feet. Next time KT, bring booties for everyone. It's kind of like the kid in class that whips out one piece of the bestest gum for himself and eats it in front of everyone.

But the VB game was awesome and props to KT for settin' that up. Big Ed, me, the Mak-attack, Chaz, U-dog, and Kelly-Kel lost the first set, but rallied for 2 in a row off my diving dig save and Chaz's closeout serving. Shut KT and his crew down and wore our sweat proud. I think we made Big Ed proud - you know, everybody loves a winner.

Carrying on with the incredible time, we jumped upstairs to the Crow's Nest patio with the ipod doc and laid down an epic set of Curtis Mayfield, Lionel R, Skynard and the rest. Are you seeing a pattern to the music we roll out? Our waiter, bless is tiny heart, was trying to handle the entire patio and while I had sympathy for the man, I wanted a blasted cocktail to put these flames out.

Curtis ended up having to trek inside to the bar and place the first order. After waiter figured it out and the broad that was late showed up for her shift, the guy came through and it was river of Bay Breezes down the hatch. The kids from Boston were beside themselves. Boats going by, 73 degrees, slight breeze and Jack Johnson telling us the horizon has been defeated. We ate plenty of dead sea life, raw, breaded, seared and the like and enjoyed ourselves until the sun hinted at hiding behind the mountains behind us.

Jules, Curtis and I headed out for a cig and found a couple of cool-ass bros that offered up their final stick to us and we kindly accepted. We kept the ipod rocking the whole time and had about 4 different little dance parties before we got back to the truck where the dance parties continued. (Before I get carried away here, I had stopped drinking the Bay Breeze's and was content with water knowing full well I had a drive back to the pit on my hands.) DJ C-Dub kept the jams going on the ride back and we rocked out to the hip hop hibby all the way back into LG. The ipod wasn't off for more than 30 seconds when it was plugged into the house and Chris Brown was singin Forever to the girls and us.

Jules and MD had a little practice from there Dance Revolution training and wanted to show off some skills. The fish came down and wanted a little action too, so we abliged and the night was epic.

Great day all around and I've never been so sore in the thighs - core volleyball and 8 hours of dancing until the morning light. I forgot all about the worries on my mind and slept like a baby. Friday may have been my most unproductive day in my pain cave, but I don't think I was alone. I hope you all can share a riproaring good time with your co-workes. You spend 50 hours a week with them...embrace it. Love it. And be excellant!

Boats, Booz, Babes, Baunach

What a weekend, and damn-it-all if I didn't have a knee shaken good time. Unfortunately, I broke my camera taking pics with people I really wasn't all that excited about snapping killer shots with. Mid-photo shoot, wouldn't you know, the picture box falls off the tv from the thumping bass beats in the house and crash!! ...done son.

So I leave it to the writing to carry this one. We'll get to last Thursday and making out with a fish when I'm able to get the pictures up, but in the meantime we can blast through the weekend's activity sheet.

Friday was supposed to be a walk in the park. There turned out to be some good crack down at Joe's Northend on the patio, and George and JoAnne came through with the music cranking on the veranda. Mel, Baunach and I rocked it olds school while Johnny Blaze was in town for a brief stay - he's been squatting in a shanty in Boston crushing life for a while and it was good to have the legend back in the game. So laughter, glee, flirts, and blue moon's were abundant and someone, I think me, said dance party...and off we went to the 409 for some good time. Us JB's had to stop at "the shittiest Safeway in the world" for some libation juice when upon my shoulder I felt such rattle, and I turned to my right, to see what was a matter. When out of my eye there comes a big douchebag asshole who feels he should buy his booze before me. So we talked for a while, you know, about politics, the economy, our families, and the fact that he is really a girl, and then we parted ways with words of grace closure spewing from both parties...and to the dancefloor.

It was a hoot. I had already pulled a quad Thursday night but the dancefloor was red hot - I think a couple girls even kissed each other a little bit. Well we tow' it up all night long and the night ended how it started - Mel and I kickin' it real on the 409 stoop. Started to get bright, so we shimmied through the last half of Meridian Chardonnay and hit the sack for the morning.
I didn't really complete a thought until Sunday about noon, and when I did it was good. I had a great one - Go to the lake and swim ...amazing. It's so simple.

Alright, I managed to make it not so simple and got some buddies out there to Anderson just to have Ranger Rick's son tell me I needed a boat registration to play - it was the first real time in my life I thought about bribing someone. Well, I didn't and left gracefully thanking the young lad for his help.

We ended up just slugging a few budweiser and tecate bottles shoreside and the ipod was music to my ears - obvi. The day was not lost and the glass half full says that I got to have a couple beers that I wouldn't had been able to enjoy had I launched the boat and had to drive, so I had that going for me.(How many times did I just say 'had'? Stupid writing) Bottomline, we had fun and will try to squeeze out as many of these lake trips (preferebly with getting in the water) as I can until weather puts a damper on my parade.

I'm going to squander this right here and leave saying the Olympics were off the hinges awesome this year - good job and good-bye atheletes of the world. Beijing did an impressive job to make us forget about Tibet, no freedom of speech and an economy with 50% + make less that 2 dolla a day. But they can throw one hell of a party and build some pretty amazing structures, soooo....yea, no further comment.
Since I got no pics for the post I am just going to find a random picture on the drive and see what happens.

Somewhere in a cave in the swiss alps.

Foodman Strikes Again!

Where were we? It's Already Wednesday night and I feel like the only thing I've done since Sunday is work. I guess that just makes it easier to get to the flavorful, playful, joyful, marvel-US and juicy Tuesday night.
Sitting at the helm, I rifled through some recipes in the back section of last months bone apetit. ..Yep food mags in the bathroom - rippin' good time...Found a killer pancetta mac and cheese recipe from Otto in New York City - on of Mario Bitalli(sp?)'s places - this spurred a wild hair and off we were for Tuesday Night Dinnerfest again.

+

=

A heavenly feast fit for royalty.

Starters:

• Hot Links gnar enough to burn your belly, Italian links pissing cheddar all over the grill.

Main Platter:

• Grilled Asparagus with lemon pepper, salt, butter.
• Fried Bay seasoned potatoes and white onions.
• Rosemary Flank Steak smothered in olive oil, salt, pepper
• BBQ Awesome Chicken

Secondzies:

• BBQ Peaches over vanilla icecream
• Red Plum milkshakes
• Strawberry soda floats

The evening was grand and I will never cook without mesquite in a BBQ ever again. Okay, that is a total lie, but you get it. I started this post on Wednesday and it's taken me until Friday to blog it. So I owe you another one about the beach yesterday. I'll cut it tomorrow and the single will drop in the weeeeeeeee hours of the morning. Holla at it.

Taking It To The Next Level

One should always be progressing. If your not, you're either stale or digressing. So I took my lesson with Jack on the road to Peacock Gap up in San Rafael this weekend with my cohorts from the CITY in tricks, wisecracks, corona and golf.

Place is beautiful. I'm sure some of that was the optimal conditions and the appearance of Conor Kelly at the final hour...I should have lifted the seat and fixed the governor with a golf tee to grab CK out of the parking lot. It would have helped me get to a better time quicker. Well the good time wasn't that far off and right out the gate we poured on the wisecracks, tricks and foolery.

Conor and I roll up on the first tee where Luke is enlightening an asshole standing on our box that it's our tee box and to go kick rocks in the parking lot...GFY guy in the red shirt... all this while Lionel Richie's All Night Long pumped out of our golf cart. It was a fun scene to the play.
Started off medium and warmed up for a +4 on the front nine.

Well the Marin jerks continued to pester us all over the course and soon we have the beginning of act two. We're a strong foursome with solid golfers all the way around - Nic Seegs, Lucas H and the Kelly. A twosome of Judge Smails' son and his escort would like to say a few welcoming words to us from Marin. This jerk, from standing in a bunker starring at an 8 foot face says, "Hey you guys mind if we play through?"

"Sure, man. No problem"

"Yea, because you guys are playing crazy slow." This nerd said crazy slow - tried to be impressive with something cool and it came out retarded.

Well it was open season on the jokes for these two spoon fed 30 year-olds and we let it rip. This guy got a GFY comment out of someone, and a few hurry up and get the hell out of the ways. The assmunch goes for the tips and ducks one so far left we had to laugh directly in his face and compliment his well played shot. I believe the message was loud and clear. Those two dorks should prolly find red shirt guy and beat it.

Well, besides some solid, back-to-back, 50 foot puts by Luke and some other shots I can't remember, I shot 7 over on the back 9 with putting two balls in water so I was pleased with the 82 11-over.

Lukedog talking in some one's back swing, imagine that. But still somehow making it look good.

Much fun had and a big thanks to Lionel, Skynard, Sue Jorge, Keller Williams and the rest. Then parted ways with big smiles and big impressions. I mean to brag here and the four of us may not beat another four on the course, but we bust the fun meter while they drag the bottom. Good talk, we'll see ya' out there. True story.

Can this course look any better. answer: No. Not with Marin folk.

The Legends Tour

Hola, y que tal, tios y tias! It's been a good week. Glad it's the weekend. Wonderful to be writing to you today. With a trip to Hawaii looming for Halloween, I've been trying to work on the golf game to gear up for Kapalua, Ka'anapoli and with luck, Maui CC. I've been trying to get to the range after work to get the long irons straightened out and hit those 200+ par 3's for a better chance at par. Well, yesterday afternoon, I was crushing little white rockets off the mats at Santa Clara Golf and Tennis Center when an instructor named Jack stuck his nose in my business.

"How ya' hittin'?"

I tells the ol' guy, "Great, just pushing the long irons a bit to the right."

This wasn't meant as an invitation to help me out, but he took it that way and I kindly accepted the advice to see where this would go - little side note, I've never had a professional lesson and don't really think I need one. The only guy I trust with my swing besides myself is James David Ross. You can find him Monday afternoons and Jo's Northend in Los Gatos collecting his winnings.

And there we were, Jack's got me moving my chin all around, taking my eye off the ball, slicing chili-dippers into the ground and 110% frustrated with these new changes.

Then to prove his point about head movement he shows me a couple swings. First Annika Sorenstam's swing - best female golfer the blue planet has ever beared witness to. Second, we watched Jack 'Golden Bear' Nicklaus off the tee. Both move their heads all over the place. But it's not for me. I like Tiger.

Jack showing me Annika and Jack N's swings side by side on the monitor and me not getting it.

I just wanted to check out his technology he had to help golfers that he was completely failing at, and to check out the gear he had patents on to help golfers get better(really?). I had all but stopped paying attention at this point to Jack's dramatic rants to snap a few photos of the gent.

Well, what seemed like a year later we were on a story of him following Arnold Palmer around for th 16, 17, and 18 at Augusta National - like he was some boy wonder golfer from a Bagger Vance movie.

If you're wondering where the good part to this guy is, it's right here. The game of golf is different for all and no two swings are alike. I love the game of golf and I love the purests. The men and women that eat, breathe, sleep golf their live-long lifes. Jack the instructor is one of these guys. When I asked for this picture he insisted that he remove his hat, Arnold Palmer would always remove his hat, Jack says.

Big Island Brah Hippy Trail

August 13, 2008 I met my Christopher McCandless. No he wasn't on his way to Alaska to die in a bus, but on his way to Santa Cruz to sell the flutes he made out of the high mountain forests on the Big Island of Hawaii (Ha-Why-eee)....yeaaaaa.

So there he is in my living room with a huge smile on his face. Never met the guy before but after backpacking 6 months in Europe, I know that comforting feeling that washes over you when a helping hand is extended your way. Let me back up and start the story before I just confuse you with bullet point sentences.

I had just got home from playing with the out-of-control black dogs. This is what they really look like when they play ball... Tales at light-speed, slobber and happiness spewing off their faces...

Anyway, so this 4Runner pulls over in front of my house about 7 o'clock last night. I'm curious because there's two frat boy looking d-bags that get out and one hippy that looks like he fell out of a tree in Berkely. The Betas took off in their truck hardly saying bye to this guy and me being me, I had to catch what this traveler was riding.

"Hey man, you walkin' somewhere?", I says.

"Yea man, headed to Santa Cruz. I'm from the Big Island," haole says.

"Of course your are."

So I invite the wayward traveler inside to get comfy and get this kid's amazing story of peace, cheer, medicine, women with exotic names and flutes. I guess I was in awe of this guy and had so many questions for him about how the fuck he got from weird-ass Florida - regular kid, well-to-do family with beach house - to living 'Maulka' on the Big Island.

Maulka means 'mountain' in Hawaiian. It is one of the key words he mentioned that would help me get around in Hawaii. The other key words are Kona meaning 'dry side', and Makai meaning 'ocean'. For example, "Dude came maulka on his way makai and left for the mainland from kona."

Johnathan Wolf, kept saying he came from a community in the mountains. I asked him to elaborate and the hippy hawaiianly said that it is a peaceful group that lives simply in the mountains on the big island. He only left the community for the mainland to sell his flutes in yoga centers along the pacific coast and expand himself...

check out the stone necklace and 'SPACE' shirt. Hemp belt and black Kung Fu pants were just the icing on the cake for this guy's gear.

Santa Cruz is actually just a stop on his journey so that he can get a little flower out there that he met on the Big Island and invited to the community. Speaking of 'pua-nani'... that is the Hawaiian name for flower, triangle, fresh water spring, or vagina, or small child - go figure. ... these were two ordinary flowers he was meeting in Santa Cruz. When he called them, he says, "Hi there Firefly? What are you and Lulu up to?"

In some weird alternate space/time continuum, I wanted to relate to this guy and see just what's out there in that jungle he lives in - Like Ray Kinsella wanting to go into his corn field and see what Shoeless Joe was keeping from him out there.

Mr. Wolf has been studying yoga maulka in Hawaii for the last 5 years and practicing yoga for the last 10. Just recenlty he got into Capoeira and had plans to meet a Mestre, Capoeira master, in Seattle in about a month. So he's got this staff looking instrument and a gord that somehow makes adds to the staff used in Capoeira circles. I thought it was a walking staff, what the hell do I know about cool shit though.

So many stories later and I found out he's been in this community for quite some time - no shit hippy. He respectively took his sandals off before entering my domicile and was very thankful for my assistance on his adventure to the mainland to find Capoeira gurus and a couple minxs that go by Firefly and Lulu who are part of the community.

The man was SOL on transportation from Los Gatos to Santa Cruz, apparently there is none? Go figure for the sheeshy town. So out of the continuing good graces of my lack of other things to do, I gave him a ride to dt San Jo to catch the 17 Express to his pua-nani. Along the way he played me a song on one of his flutes that really set the comfy mood of the ride and brought laughter and smiles to my insides. I will most likely never forget this soul who abandoned civilization to live without phone, television or refrigeration in the mountainous areas of the Big Island of Hawaii. This picture ending my time with my personal Alexander Supertramp. Best luck on your journey Johnathan Wolf.

The 6 P Rule

Monday is formidably the worst day of the week, but a little planning, a strong meal and good sleep sets the wheels in motion and a low heart rate to start this eve of the work week. Really got into the grindage last night with a little burger recipe I stole, modified and devoured straight from the pages of Bon Apetit. The burger was nothing short of lavish and the bbq'd corn on the cob made for a smooth transition into the couch to view Phelps and company thwart the Frenchies and their gaping wide liar mouths.

Well that food and that sleep resulted in a productive Monday down at 'ol EMC...so much so that I can't remember what happened - I'd quote the movie Office Space right now to illustrate my productivity but fear that a fellow true blue EMCer might happen upon this site with unimpressed feelings after their extra-grueling day.

So fast forward to the food. I threw a little swaray at the 409 for a few friends and a co-worker of mine who lives vicariously through me seeing as he is married with kids. I wanted to cook it up for this crowd and leave them 100% satisfied with the meal. So take notes nerds.

First Dish:

Three kinds of grilled sausage ranging from mild to extra hot dressed with bbq sauce and a honey-dijon mustard. (Grilled - It's not BBQ unless it spends at least 6 hours on the barbie, these sausages were just grilled... a lil knowledge fo' dat ass.)

Second Dish:

Garden Tomatoes soaked in Balsamic Vinegar, Wine Wine dashed with salt, pepper and fresh garlic. A spritz of fresh lemon across the finished dish and NAILED IT!

Main Dish:

This was DI-KNOW-MITE! Rosemary and Pepper Bacon-wrapped filet mignon medallions with a garlic olive oil painted on. Seared for a hot minute on the bbq then plopped in the oven at 350 for about 10 minutes. This dish was sided with Garlic Bread, fresh out of a bag and sweet corn on the cob.

Finisher:
Sliced nectarines to clean the palet before lipping caronas and red stripes all night.

Pics were tough to get of all this food on account of the starved posse I invited over, but here's a look at the goods.

Great night at the 409 and I think the guests were pleased with the meal. Some late stragglers definitely gave me some 'tude about not having anymore eats for them, but hey, can't please them all. The dogs were playing with themselves and the Olympics spiced things up with men showering together... and diving. These to ninny's blamed eachother for there shitty dives, but still opted for the shower together.

Oh right, why is this blasted post titled the 6 P-Rule. Moral of a good time - Prior Planning Prevents Piss Poor Performance...write that down.

Music Maestro and the Garden Variety Crack

STARTING a blog is like starting anything else. I could cliche' the shit out of it all day - let it rip, get some, hit the ground running, head first, fake it till you make it, just do it... so to cut short any attempt at an epic beginning, I'm just going to start with the meat of the weekend and take a gander at this blog.

NIGHT OF THE GUITAR starts out in fine style with starring in to the refrigerator to see what kind of app my talented chef of a roommate and I can come up with that will satisfy a long night of Carona Lights (the only light beer that's a Carona) and white wine and dueling guee-tars. To get right down to it, the fresh halibut, mamma's garden tomatoes and 409 porch basil set off with fresh mozza was f'n crip and is just the tip of a Utopian evening at the red house.

We moved the venue to the back porch by Mel's house and after a killer ipod set from Sly and the Family Stone - if you don't know, you best get in the know - King Eric and Max tuned-up their axes and starting picking out killer jams under a starry lit night. Around Chardonnay bottle #4 Mel and I started stretching our vocal chords to the grooves that Page and Plant were laying down. Like Gum On My Shoe is a little # we came up with. We'll try for some footage at the next show.

King Eric - a Dr. on the Axe and Max, jammin' with the groove, eyes closed for emotional impact.

Well, we kept comfy all night long and eventually lined up a late night bruschetta dive into the planters, refrigerator and other sources to drum up the goods one last time before crashing on the couch to TEAM USA wooping dat ass in Beijing - smogville. That shit ain't mist or whatever you choose to call it over there.

Fast forward to the current day, what started as a nice bike ride through town turned into a Tour de Campbell and a trip to the farmer's market over there. Blazing hot, we found some drink and made our way through the glorious fruits, vegetables, olive oils and breads that toyed with my pudgy belly. Advice Tip#1 - No need to eat before you go to the farmer's market in Campbell, you will be full off the top notch samples these vendors come up with. Like this guy, TheHummusGuy. Great story about being the best hummus in the world and famous in LA and wanting to expand his Hummus Kingdom to NorCal. Well, the ladies dug on this Greek and his Prada glasses and wanted to sample him some more... This was my favorite look to the flock he was currently working. The eye contact is redic. True to form the hummus was amazing.

they all want my hummus.

Just to the side of Don Juan de Hummus was the dirtiest Broccali Farmer this side of the Santa Cruz Mtns. It's one thing to let it hang in your garden when harvesting but Garden Crack needs to stay in the garden.
So...we rocked it back to Los Gatos, LG from here on out, best line of the day was caught on vid, really just explains the simplicity of the Sunday. I'll let Max take it from here. "Having Fun Max?"

...i bet you are Panama Red.*

*attributed to LD.