As promised, this week was insane. We moved from the condo that Megan and Rene had let us use for the past two years, almost to the day, and into our first home. As anyone who has done this before will tell you, moving sucks. Everything is heavy – there are no light boxes. Stairs are too narrow – couches are not made to be moved up or down flights. There isn’t enough patience in the world – no matter how hard you try, no matter how hard you seek to restrain yourself, you will snap at somebody. Maybe just the guy filling your tank with gas for the eighty-seventh time in two days, but somebody’s gonna get it. Accept it: you’re just not that strong.
Moving into your first house is even suckier since it’s mixed in with all of those little thoughts that fly around your head making you wonder if you can actually pull this off. Being male, I cover it all with dollops of bravado. I also become an expert on many mechanical things, and also physics. This does nothing to change the laws of those two fields, however, and without a working knowledge of pulleys and levers, my faux knowledge of very basic mechanics and physics comes crashing down around my head. Sometimes in the form of a washing machine. (Nota Bene: If you are getting the carpenter to help you move, and he doesn’t speak English, be prepared to forget ALL of your Spanish at crucial moments. Like when the washing machine door opens and tries to eat you alive half-way down the stairwell. “Dammit! What’s the Spanish word for ‘Stop?’ Somebody!! Get me a Larousse!” What did I wind up shouting? The Spanish word for ‘drop it.’ Yep. I did that.)
With this in mind, I would recommend that you cap off the biggest moving day of your life with a child’s birthday party. Preferably yours, since, for you, there will be no escape. Oh, there’ll be crying, sore legs and feet, bruises, and vomit, but no escape.
Our beautiful daughter, Caia, turns two today. And for that, we are immeasurably grateful. Her party was a huge success (thanks to a late-night trip by Megan and I to City Club and Sam’s Club the night before). Many thanks to all of our friends who helped make it a special day for our special girl.
The theme was based on four of her favourite things: Birdies, Bubbles, Balloons, and Elephants. She loved it. We had a bubble machine and everything. (I wish I still got that excited about bubbles. I get excited, but, you know …)
Around four in the afternoon, our guests left, and Caia crashed. We took her to our new home, put her down for the night, and within minutes, Cara, too, was out. I returned to Megan and Rene’s place and we sampled a bottle of red.
Wine: Santa Julia, Reserva, Malbec, Mendoza, Argentina, 2008, $130 MXN
Rating: Two Bottles
Nice and plummy and figs. This would be a fantastic wine to drink with Christmas Cake or Plum Pudding, but on its own, it fell a little flat. While it deepened in flavour with a little air, it remained a one-note wine and just a little too basic for our liking. Port-like in colour and consistency, though pleasant, it needed to be paired with something to compliment it more fully.
We did find their commitment to sustainability fascinating, however, and we’d like to see more vineyards taking a greener approach. Winemaking occupies a lot of land, so it only makes sense that wineries set good examples as stewards of the lands they occupy.
And on a topic completely off-subject, it’s time for my thought of the week.
A colleague just walked into my office and commented on the Christmas music I was listening to. The song playing was “Let It Snow,” and he said, “I like that song,” and I said, “I wrote this song!” Now, everybody knows that “Let It Snow! Let It Snow! Let It Snow!” was written in 1945, which means that, in order for me to have written that song, I would have to be at least sixty-six years old, OR, I would have had to travel back in time in order to write it. Since we know that I am no sexagenarian, clearly, I travelled back in time. Now, here’s where I blew his mind: I was only able to write the song because I heard it first in the present allowing me to time travel and write the song in the past.
That means that I wrote the song in the past that I later heard in the present that allowed me to write the song that I wrote in the past.
He’s still thinking about that.
Until next week …