Shira, Etc.

There’s still time to enter the Molten Future Contest!! Don’t miss out on this great chocolate prize!!

Enjoy boxed brownies? Take a look at Toothsome Delights!!

I made up a new game this morning (When living in a state of flux, it is imperative to keep your mind occupied, or else succumb to the depths of despair).

Bored with the swanky suburb sidewalks of St. Helena, I decided to run through the vineyards. It reminded me of living at The Rock last summer (everything seems to lately…), except that the vegetation here is lush and alive, whereas the vegetation in Upstate NY in May is mostly the non-living sort. *SIDENOTE* I’m getting pretty good at making comparisons between Upstate NY viticulture and that of Napa Valley; maybe I should become a viticulturist!!

Anyways, the run was going quite well (let’s be honest, it was more of a brisk walk with random bursts of jogging), until I decided to take a detour. Motivated by this exciting burst of spontaneity, I began to “sprint” between two rows of Merlot. What a challenge! I mean, I know I’m not in Rocky V shape, but I was struggling to make my legs move at this pace! At every step I felt the earth swallowing my sneakers. Heading towards a serious reality check, I slowed down for a minute to do some self-reflection. How had I let myself get this unhealthy?! Hanging my head in shame I noticed that my feet really were sinking laces-deep into the ground. It wasn’t my lack of athletic prowess or gargantuum poundage that was holding me back, the field hands had just tilled the soil. (Thank God!!)

Feeling refreshed and dangerous (I was running on private property!!!), I took off, imagining I was “one of the guys” from The Great Escape–finally fleeing my captors after months of maltreatment. I (really) ran all the way home. Just because I could.

It is hoooooooooooooottttttt in Napa. Let me just tell you. Mid to high 90s all week. SO HOT. And, aparently, clouds don’t grow in the air around here. It’s totally sweet.

Can I just say “Thank goodness for trustworthy mechanics”? Thank you!! I took Beatrice to the doctor’s today, as she was due for an oil change and also because I’ve been meaning to get her tires rotated and aligned (as per another mechanic’s strict instructions before I left for the cross-country road trip: “AS SOON as you get to CA, get the tires rotated and aligned!”).

So, I pull in to St. Helena Brake and Tire (after getting lost and having to call for directions) and explain to Mike that the tires have been pretty loud lately, and could he please check those out while he’s at it? He immediately checks the tires and informs me that three of them Are in a BAD way. Oh, Billy. Just what I want to hear. You know how tires are supposed to be round, solid, protective sort of beings? Well, Beatrice’s tires were completely rippled (rippled: technical term–NOT ROUND). Have you read the poem “Wavy” by Shel Silverstein?
Wavy
I thought I had wavy hair
Until I shaved. Instead
I find that I have straight hair
And a very wavy head.
Beside that poem (which appears in his book A Light In the Attic) there’s a picture that perfectly visualizes how round my tires are not.

So, Beatrice is getting totally pimped out today: three new tires and an oil change. What a spoiled brat.

For all of you not-so-automobilically-inclined out there, Mike gave me some advice today that I’d like to share with the world…He said, “Never tell the mechanic what you think is wrong. Let them figure it out.” I think that’s terrific advice! For several reasons; A) You probably don’tknow what’s wrong with the car in the first place, and B) Say you tell the mechanic what to fix. It’s his job to do what you say. You tell him to fix the muffler. He fixes it. Then ($200 later) he tells you that your muffler was fine, you just needed a new rearview mirror (or whatever). You’re out mo dolla’s because you’re a bad auto diagnostician. Not smart.

Thank heavens for honest mechanics.

Although, my new tires are costing more than the alignment and rotation. But Honest Mike isn’t charging me for the alignment and rotation that I never needed in the first place, so I guess it all works out.

I had a very unpleasant experience this morning while jogging with Minnie Mae. First of all, I know I was in the wrong. Everyone is supposed to clean up after their dog. BUT WHAT AN INFURIATING LAW. Who can remember to bring bags with them EVERY time they take their dog for a walk? I suppose it’s a habit you have to establish. I haven’t established it yet.

Minnie left a little tiny present in someone’s front yard–not even the real front yard, but that little strip of grass in front of the sidewalk. And the lady who lives there stuck her head out the front door and yelled “Thanks for leaving that!!”. It’s barely six o’clock in the morning for crying out loud! Mom had just had a major can’t-find-my-keys-trauma, I was up all night with this exotic disease (allergies) that won’t go away…doggie bags were not the first thing on my mind.

I’m more upset about the hostile attitude of my fellow community member than the embarrassing reminder that I’m an irresponsible dog owner. What a nice welcome home! Haven’t you got anything better to do? If she had politely reminded me of my poop-scooping duties I might have gone back and picked it up. But she just had to be nasty about it.

I’m plotting to have 50 tons of dog do dumped all over her front lawn. TAKE THAT!! She’ll have to enlist an extremely large team of professional pooper scoopers to get that mess cleaned up! I’m sincerely hoping that not even the trendy new product Poop Freeze will help her out on this one. I hope she steps in some with her bare feet. Anyone want to get in on Mission-Drop-The-Poop-By-Her-Bedside?

On vacation in the Outer Banks of North Carolina this week, and then heading back home to gather my belongings for a more permanent move to CA!! Whoohoo! Happy Easter everyone!