In the Land of the Nectar of the Gods

First off, thank you to everyone who weighed in on my deodorant dilemma. I so greatly appreciate your concern with my malodorous armpits. Thankfully, there were no stinky incidents on the trip.

Secondly, please bear with me through this post. My brain cells (I just typed sells instead of cells) are still a bit blotto from the weekend. Even with a daily nap, it seems I never quite got enough rest to rejuvenate my drunk little neural pathways. So I think many of them are shut down right now.


The weekend was fantastic. Mostly just because everything connected to wine is beautiful and decadent and timeless. Driving through rolling hills dotted with oak trees and flanked by striated vineyards is sort of like crawling across a big beautiful patchwork quilt. It’s comfortable and you appreciate the care and craftsmanship that went into creating it, and you really want to just stop and take a nap on it. Seriously, I think there’s a reason they named it Napa up there…


Then there’s the whole process of swirling the wine in your glass and watching it catch the light; holding it to your nose, trying to pick up fragrances of green apple or earth; swishing it around your mouth as its buttery flavor coats your tongue. It’s an indulgence for every sense.


We went to about a dozen wineries and tasting rooms. La Crema, Kendall Jackson, Seghesio, Simi, Lambert Ridge, Rosso & Bianco (Coppola’s), Cosentino, Miner Family, V. Sattui, Merryvale, Rubicon (also Coppola’s), Opus One, and Silver Oak. At a couple of them, we just wandered around a bit an enjoyed the scenery. At all the rest, we sipped and poured, trying to determine how badly we wanted to add a bottle to our purchase list.


We ended up shipping 12 bottles from about 5 different locations. And Mr. Wonderful joined the wine club at our favorite spot which I’ll write about in a separate post.


I’m wearing a grey shirt today, which pretty much sums up how I feel about being back in LA. I was so depressed last night I cried after I left Mr. W’s house. There’s something about getting so high on the taste of olives and cheese and Cabernet and kisses then having to come back to the daily grind. Quite a downer. At least I can smile every time I look down at the type across my new grey t-shirt…it reads “pinot envy.”