This bottle was another "Hey, it's the Olympics, we need to drink Canadian wine!" pick. Though we didn't hit up Grey Monk while in the Okanagan, we've been on the lookout for good Canadian wines. Mostly, we've been disappointed that wine and liquor stores, though there are many in Edmonton, don't even begin to touch on how many amazing Canadian wines there are.
After we drank the Amicitia from Dunham & Froese, we craved another red but wanted something light enough to go with dessert. We picked this bottle to drink while stuffing our faces with apple crisp.
This earthy wine has light-moderate tannins, and smells like berries (strawberries, cranberries and raspberries in particular) with a bit of vanilla and honey. It's smooth and complemented our dessert, and our Canadian spirit, perfectly.
We drank this bottle on Valentine's Day, it was an appropriate pairing with steak and the Olympics (go Canada, go!) B and I traveled to the Okanagan in September 2009 and tasted a lot of wine; we fell in love with both varietals left at Dunham & Froese. Most of what they made was sold out, and it's not hard to imagine why.
Amicitia – pronounced ah-mee-CHEE-tee-ah – is a big, bold red built around 64% Cabernet Franc and 17% Syrah, with Cabernet Sauvignon, Merlot, Malbec and Petit Verdot adding complexity to the blend.
B and I picked out plum, spicy black currant, chocolate flavours, with just a hint of mint and tobacco (in a good way). It's a relatively affordable Canadian wine (under $30, and well worth it) that smells, and tastes, delicious.
Maybe one of the best things about Dunham & Froese is its location at the Covert Farm, just north of Oliver, British Columbia. The winery is a partnership of two couples, Eugene and Shelly Covert and Crystal and Kirby Froese. The Amicitia label (Latin for friendship) honours the friendship behind this partnership. If you are ever in the area, check out Covert Farms; their fresh, 0rganic food is incredible. We sat on the patio to enjoy the view and experience the most delicious vegetables I've ever popped in my mouth. You can also pick your own fruit and veggies if you want.
As we were drinking this, we were discussing how this is a "must stop" on our next trip to the region. Though, now that I've found you can order wine online, we may not need to wait that long.
After my essay was completed, it was just the two of us.
In our home. With a make-shift antenna made from bunny ears, our broom, and duct tape. I swear my wine glass lacked fingerprints until the men's moguls. Maybe it was because we were on bottle number two and I have a fear of breaking the Riedel.
I'm thankful to live with my best friend. Someone who makes killer breakfast and pretends to watch Grey's Anatomy with me and the old roomie while we eat. Someone who tries to teach me guitar chords after he serenades me. Someone who keeps playing games with me, no matter how cranky I get when he [cheats] wins. Someone who suggests words games, even though he knows his chances of victory are slim (maybe that's why he suggests them, now that think about it). Someone who supports crack-pot ideas like getting my Masters. I'm glad we travel well together and get to explore new places. That we have the most wonderful friends that anyone could hope for. I'm glad for the soccer team that brought us together. That we both have such wonderful families and that we're taking time this year to travel to destinations other than their homes.
I'm glad that at the end of the day, everything else melts away and it's just the two of us.
"My therapist has put you in my web," she explained with a glass of wine in her hand. We were alternating handfuls from the giant bowl of popcorn in front of us, post-Grey's Anatomy. "She told me that I need some normal friends, and I said I have one -- you!" Her big smile always lifts my spirits.
We've been stuck together for almost four years; hard to believe. I rented a room from a boy I occassionally made out with, and she sublet from his sister. I had job applications out across the country, but somehow I ended up here and she followed. We've had our moments, as most roomates have, but she's one of those people that you just can't shake (and don't want to). She's fiercely loyal, gives her entire being to everyone she loves and everything she does, and she's got a great rack.
We went out dancing, pre-PJs, popcorn, and Grey's Anatomy. It felt like the old days in our new city, but the crowd was a bit creepier. I had to fight the urge to yell "Leggings are not pants!" and we contemplated whether the girl in the crochet dress was wearing lace panties, or if there was a word pasted across her behind. We tried out the latin beats and happily danced to some 90's hits before heading back to my place for a girly sleepover.
Weekends like this cement the importance of old friends. There was also a phone call from four of my highschool ladies that left my brain buzzing with memories and an exercise letting new friends move away -- but Calgary is only a short roadtrip away.
This camera bag from Ketti Handbags is incredible. I already have one cute camera bag, but this one is way cuter. Oh, to be able to stuff my camera in a protected bag like this instead of lugging it around shoved in my regular purse (terrible, I know). I just hate how I have to take a bag for gear and a bag for my wallet and miscellany; I could throw all of my things in here no problem!
I feel six years old with loose leaf papers held tight in my hand, and knobby knees banging into one another as I sprint from the bus up the lane to the house. Out of breath from all that hard work, I merely raise my paper-filled fist in victory.
One small victory mind you, but it is my first A+ in graduate school. Days like this one remind me that the hundreds of pages I read each week and the thousands of words I type in response will all be worth it. I only have to soldier through until that stack of papers in my tiny fist is replaced with that one big sheet of paper in November 2011.
This weekend, the dishes were done in a timely manner, loads of laundry were completed, sheets changed, clothes put away. Obviously there's something wrong here. Oh right, procrastination is my best friend.
I spent much time huddled over articles and texts reading about computer-mediated communication and the command line, thanking my lucky stars I was born into a world where I don't have to write out notebooks full of code. This class is intense, but its intensity actually ensures that students read all of the materials that are piled high into our outreached, trembling arms. If you don't read and understand the material enough to write thousands of words about it, you'll probably cry yourself to sleep. Then, you'll fail.
In "In the beginning was the command line," Neal Stephensen, pompous fellow that he is, mentions that in the past writers have kept a skull on their desk as they write to remind them of their own mortality. He suggests that something should also serve as a reminder that technology, and how we interact with it now, may also be fleeting. I was reminded of this as the sad orange light blinked on our wireless router to show us that the modem wasn't allowing us to access the Internet. "HOW CAN THEY DO THIS TO US!" I cried out, on the verge of tears. "If I can't access the program for our very web-reliant course, I can't submit my essay and I will FAIL!" Drama.
Thankfully, B is more patient than I. After unplugging the modem for hours at a time (to punish it for what it has done?), we were finally given the green light. Literally. I'm thankful that I grew up with graphic user interfaces and operating systems. I remember trying to run things through DOS on our first home computer, and that was frustrating enough -- no way would I ever have the patience for the command line.
It's interesting to read about the humble beginnings of Netville. To think that once, this genius group of individuals was sheltered by the US military and academic institutions to share knowledge on the cutting-edge of technology as homeland security. When interest in the Internet grew, the values of technological advancement and sharing were overtaken by society's desire for entertainment and fluff. Oh, and marketing.
On another note: I started subscribing to This American Life's podcasts this weekend, and the National with Peter Mansbridge. I am now one happy little transit rider.