Wine Wednesday: Dunham and Froese 2007 Amicitia Red

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.

heart-shaped

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.

Twenty-ten

[Peggy's Cove via The.Rohit on Twitter]

Last week I was in a real funk. I don't like to whine and complain, but it seems like all I did was cry last week. I was stressed over school, the hormones were raging, and it seemed like stupid people were popping up in every aspect of my life. On top of all of that, messages of breakups kept rolling in about friends who were previously engaged and/or living with their men. One of these in particular managed to completely break my heart. I was so sure that [the now ex]Roomie had managed to find something spectacular; I even wrote him a love letter!

Roomie is someone who deserves so much good, and I thought she finally had found a piece of that. She's so sweet, always puts everyone else first, is smokin' hot, and she's a domestic goddess; she's been through a lot of crap in her life, brushes it off, picks herself back up and moves on with a smile. Tonight I'm pouring the wine and hearing the full tale. I only hope I can provide a fraction of the support that she gives to everyone else in her life.

When the sadness rolls in, I've got to try to see the bright side of things. I also need to remember that I signed up for school; essays aren't something horrible being done to me.

Every year becomes the best one yet and this one is no exception. Twenty-ten will be full of fun things like concerts (Muse and U2), shows (Chicago and Sweeny Todd), and cross-Canada journeys (so far: Fernie, B.C. for a week of snowboarding and mountains in February; Halifax, N.S. for a week in June -- I'll get to see the lovely Andrea!; home to Ontario for my cousin's wedding in August; and Victoria, B.C. for three more weeks of intensive learning in October). This year is literally a Canadian coast-to-coast adventure! This year I'll complete more than half of my Masters and I'll have logged over 3 years with my Love.

I just hope that all my friends get to be this blissful.

What are you looking forward to in 2010?

Home for the holidays

It still doesn't seem much like Christmas, even though I am going home in two sleeps.

Christmas shopping this year seems haphazard, not the usual exciting adventure to find the perfect presents for people. Instead of the desire to trim the tree, I've had the desire to read journal articles. Instead of baking Christmas treats to send out to friends across the country, I've been wishing I could write faster and go to conferences in Montreal, London (U.K) and San Francisco. Instead of watching Christmas movies, I've been thinking about Marshall McLuhan's theories. I'm a bit overwhelmed. I know the essay I submitted the other day wasn't my best, but I just didn't care anymore. The thought of submitting three more essays by the middle of January, combined with travel to Ontario and Saskatchewan for the next two weeks, is terrifying. How am I ever going to get everything done?

Instead of doing schoolwork most evenings, I've been happily curled up with the Boy on the couch or out with my wonderful girlfriends eating brie and drinking vanilla apple mojitos. Ignorance is bliss, they say. Maybe a bit of Baileys in my coffee (or some eggnog) would bring some Christmas cheer?

Home Sweet... oh shit.

On Friday afternoon the many Calgarians and Edmontonians in our PCOM crew were huddled over our laptops ferverently checking and rechecking our flights.

"I heard all flights to Calgary were cancelled."
"You're okay going in, but no planes are leaving!"
"We're only delayed two hours; how long is your wait?"

We took long walks in the sunshine, soaking in the lush greenery, knowing that we were coming back to white. Nearly 20 cm of it. Less than a week later, the conversation is more like this:

"Want to run to Starbucks?"
"What's it like outside?"
"Only -14!"
"Oh God -- so warm! I'm in!"

So warm. At -14. That's what four days of -20 to -30 gets us.

It's hard to read and even think about writing four major essays when at the end of the day I just want to hurry home, start up the fireplace, and watch Dexter with B.

two

We've been sick. We've been sick with what may or may not have been H1N1 (who are we to go to the doctor?). We're not dead. Even though we didn't get our vaccinations (how can we -- we're neither at-risk nor part of the Calgary Flames). Don't say I never shared anything with you, darling.

Instead of going out for dinner on our anniversary, we were cuddled up on the couch with dinner made at home and one of our many bottles of wine. I like it even better this way. Through my raspy voice and with the cough of an 80 year old chain smoker, we talked about how our lives have changed in the past year. In the past two years.

He used to just be "moon boots", the boy with the shiniest soccer shoes on the team. The boy who I never realized I had a huge crush on, even when everyone else apparently knew it -- including him. Truth be told, I'm not sure I noticed until that Halloween party when I was fixing his black eye with my purple eyeshadow, mere seconds before I kissed him. I was always pre-occupied with bad ideas for boyfriends.

I'm no longer a downtown dweller, and he no longer lives in a peach-hued bachelor pad. There is art on the walls. And plants. Lots of plants. Dinner has gone from being hastily thrown together for one, to being one of my favourite parts of the day. We drink a lot more wine (we took a class!). I've missed one Christmas with my family, and he'll miss his first one with his this year. We compromise.

I buy bus passes, and I get to see him everyday. Even though I am back to being a student. I play more video games. Way more. I watch and read more science fiction, even though the mere thought of Lord of the Rings still puts me to sleep. But it's a beautiful movie, he argues. I know! The scenery and the music gets me every time. Instead of him hanging out with his fave guy pal, we hang out with them as a couple. It's "we" instead of "I". Instead of going out for a night at the pub, we play board games.

We play less Rock Band than we did when we started dating, and we eat in more. We've found that we travel well together. He tries not to pout too much when I take far too many photos. He doesn't stop me from drunk dialing my long distance gal pals, and we remind each other to call our families. He let my baby sister move in. I take up too much closet space and the dust bunnies are winning. We've organized, and reorganized to attempt to fit all of our stuff into one place. We've combined our pasts, our possessions, our families and our future.

I used to think all that "He/she is my best friend!" stuff at weddings was garbage. It's so lame to replace your real best friend with your significant other. But I get it now. It's not like that at all. He's become the first person I tell everything to, good or bad. He calms me down and helps me celebrate. He supports my crazy ideas (like going back to school) and runs out before work to buy me cough medicine. He dances in the living room with me and doesn't argue too much when I make him sing when he plays me the guitar. He knows how to put up with me when I get angry. Though my girly best friend can't always be there, he can be. And he is.

And that's just lovely.

Three hundred beers

We make fun of ourselves for acting old. For enjoying a bottle of wine and playing cribbage, boggle or rummy. For making supper together and watching downloaded TV for the rest of the night.

Friday was the opposite of old and boring. It was slow dancing in the living room, a serenade while I wrote in the dust on his guitar. It was wandering over to the nearby pub, where we've never been, to watch the football game. It was being pleasantly surprised that it was also karaoke night. It was feeling popular when random girls asked if they could sing with me when my song came up -- Journey, Don't Stop Believin', of course. It was drinking three hundred beers before wrapping the night up with some Boston [More Than a Feeling]. 

Saturday was a write off. A three-hour nap before watching our Roughriders win, and watch grown men beat each other senseless at a friends' place. 

It was a whirlwind weekend of music, football, friends and a bit [maybe more than a bit] of a hangover. It was a weekend that made my heart swell and my knees go weak. A weekend where you want to say, "I love you" so many more times but it just seems like overkill. 

It's a weekend that makes the resulting week of reading worth it.

fall(ing)

[via postsecret]

Finally, the summer is over. Fall, with cool mornings, clothing in layers, smells and colour-changing leaves, is upon us. It's sneaking up and bringing with it pumpkin lattes and a desire to make slow-cooker soups and stews. No more jetting off to Saskatchewan, or rushing around worrying about weddings and birthdays and fitting it all in. We're back to a slower pace. Relaxed. Sweaters worn to football matches. Scarves in the morning. Seeing your breath. I love this time of year so much.

The weekend in the Okanagan brought two rounds of golf, ten visits to wineries, fifteen bottles to bring back with us, and many, many hours spent together in a car. It was camping in the rain (B spilling his beer in the tent) and our first bed and breakfast. It was fresh fruit and coffee which ranged from very, very bad (McDonalds in Revelstoke, I'm thinking of you) and very, very good (oh B&B with your locally-roasted, grinded in house deliciousness). It was my first darts victory. Poker and beer. B being forced to put up with my dance party tunes while the radio was out of commission in the mountains. It was fall romance, despite the rain.

B likes my blog because so often I'm probably annoying people by talking about him. Ego stroking at its finest.

I've had some rough times lately. Summer drama. The things one goes through when one decided that maybe a friend is no longer a friend. Wanting to keep that person around for the good times, but realizing that you have to take the bad with the good. When she started telling people I love (and who I can only assume love me) that she thinks I'm depressed and that the Boy and I are not good for one another -- he's changed me -- I started questioning what she's telling those who don't have such close ties to me. To us.

"I don't think you've changed, and I've known you my whole life," says the Little.

I joke about it with B. I've ended more than a few sentences with, "Oh, it's just because I'm depressed." And we giggle.

"She doesn't read your blog, does she?"

If she did, there'd be no question.

This is totally how the Boy works.

[via XKCD]

Thanks to the lovely ShopGirl for sharing this site. Hours of endless entertainment, let me tell you.

You make my dreams (come true)

[David Perez Facorro via the Photographic Dictionary]

Love [luhv]
-noun
1. a profoundly tender, passionate affection for another person.
2. a feeling of warm personal attachment or deep affection, as for a parent, child or friend.
3. a sexual passion or desire.
4. a person toward whom love is felt; beloved person; sweetheart.
-verb (used with object)
5. to have love or affection for: All her pupils love her.
6. to have a profoundly tender, passionate affection for (another person).


I'm getting rather pathetic, cupcakes. The Boy went to Saskatchewan for the fourth week in a row (alone this time), and I missed him a ridiculous amount. The joy that raged through me when I got his "I'm coming home!" text message on Wednesday morning was off the charts.

Being without him though, did give me time to assess things. It's also gave me time to feel like I live at our place. Having to rely on buses to get around our fine city and find our way to the north end when it'd be so much easier to hang out at the old pad is a big part of that. Oh downtown, why do you have to be so appealing?

Back on point. It gave me time to talk to an old friend. A friend who really should not be my friend. We had our own messed up love story back in the day. Out of control emotions made us do things like send lyrics to each other and cry via webcam because we just couldn't be together. He was a boy who had been broken by previous relationships, a self-proclaimed robot. I was a girl (and still am the girl) who always wears her heart on her sleeve. I was sunshine and rainbows and he was a giant storm cloud. There was a long period of time where I didn't talk to him because he decided to date our mutual friend and I couldn't handle it (really, I told him he couldn't wax poetic to me and be with her -- it wasn't fair to anyone). We had a big discussion when he finally contacted me to say that he couldn't handle it anymore, he needed me in his life in some way because I'm just so fabulous (which is true). We've been friends ever since.

Back in the day, when I got out of a passionless, robotic, comfortable relationship because of some of the conversations we had, I thought that what we had was love. What we had was different, and I'd never felt that way before. It was both incredible and terrible. Everything was so emotionally-fueled it created some sappy feel-good moments and some major heartbreak. It was a rollercoaster.

It's not like that now. Love, I mean. The more days pass, the more confident I am that even though I'm kind of an l-word slut, the Boy is the only boy I've ever truly loved in a romantic way. No one has ever made me feel the way he makes me feel. He's someone I can tell all of my secrets to, someone who loves me unconditionally but isn't afraid to speak up if he thinks I'm doing something out of character, and someone who supports me in all my crazy endeavours (school, random committees, etc.). He's someone I miss an unbelievable amount when he's gone, partially because of the empty bed and partially because when anything good or bad happens, he's the one I babble on to about it. I'm attracted to him in every way, not just physically but mentally.

My friend told me about his own long-term relationship, and I feel bad for him that he hasn't found what I found. I feel bad that through all the conversations we've had about relationships and love, that he feels like he has to settle. His lady is lovely, but clearly not the lady for him. It reminds me of my own passionless, comfortable ex-relationship. The one he talked me out of, for the sake of my own happiness.

You deserve more, he used to say. I don't know how to get it through his thick skull that he deserves more too.

Things that make me happy IV

[via flickr]

1. When B picks me up from the LRT station, we make kissy faces at each other before I even get to the car.
2. This weekend is the final glorious girly weekend with Kitty before she returns home to Ontario.
3. There will be girly drinks on the patio.
4. And farmer's markets galore.
5. The cheap fruits and veggie market near our house.
6. Finally not feeling weird calling it our house.
7. Being the boss at work for five out of the next ten weeks.
8. School! It's a bit off, but getting closer. I'm so excited.
9. Talking with the girls at work about needing to get together to play lame nerd games, like the Canadian Trivia board game I got for Christmas.
10. The anticipation of vacation.

Dwight Schrute knows best

[via flickr]

Our vacation this year is short. We're expanding the September long weekend by taking two vacation days so we can frolick through the mountains to the Okanagan and drink some wine.

This morning I nailed down a (very affordable) reservation at a little B&B in Kelowna for two nights which includes a full day wine tour with the proprietor, a wine writer and educator. We had planned on camping, but with the recent fires (and the resulting fire bans) it just didn't work out. So now, we'll be camping in Yoho National Park, hopefully staying with some Edmonton friends in Vernon, and enjoying this adorable little B&B. I was worried a bit, I've never been to a B&B before and it's just so cheap.

This little snippet from the Boy this morning, via email, made all my concerns disappear. It's all coming together. I checked the place out on trip advisor, as Dwight Schrute said Trip Advisor is the lifeblood of the B&B industry. It has four reviews all 4 or 5 out of 5.

He's a spider on the web

The Boy reads my blog (hi honey!) so it's not uncommon to have a conversation that stems from what I've posted during the day.

We were talking about just how many people commented on my request for music post (thank you, thank you, thank you*) when I pulled up my Google Analytics.

"Oh wow, you can get all that info?"

I thought I'd show him one better and pointed out where most of my traffic comes from (his work server) and how people find me. We found some weird search terms.

a part of you has grown in me
admiring the struggle it takes to be human
boob mail banner girl
boys resting on girls boobs photos
engineering girl boobs
never judge people
New Zealand picnic pictures
small girl boobs
And my favourite... small talk makes me want to cry

I made some comment about how many people seem to be looking for boobs and he comes out with this little gem, "Well, you know, when you search for 'misadventures of elle bee' a porn site comes up."**

Ah, frack.

*I officially have a girl crush on Jenny Lewis.

**Of the entire page of search results, the porn site is number three. I am the rest of the page. Also, in case you think I've been posting my more scandalous misadventures elsewhere, that site is totally not me. That I know of.

On the road

I didn't even fall asleep on the 7-hour trek to Cypress Hills. This is quite the feat, as anytime I'm in a vehicle with the motor running my Pavlovian response is to pass out.

The Boy's parents live in the [inter]provincial park, and it's always a giant nature love fest to go visit. Seriously. Watching the fawn frolicking in the backyard as we were roasting hotdogs had me so enthralled I didn't even think of my camera. We toured the Conglomerate Cliffs, had a picnic lunch at the most delightful little campground, tested out my birthday golf clubs, and hit up the Cypress winery.

It was a long weekend that felt like a week. A much needed rest. It even eased my no-money woes... for now.

Escape

The entire city has been battered and bathed. It's okay because we need it. The forecast is anything but sunny, which makes me crave my heavy bedding and a book. Or melancholy tunes. Or tea and granny squares with A. Instead, I slave through the day knowing how it will end... with the unpacking of boxes, like nearly every other day for the last, and next, couple of weeks.

So, amidst the moving madness, it was nice to escape this weekend with the Boy to the mountains. My (other) greatest love. Head over to Flickr to see my other shots from our travels this weekend.

Picnic, in pictures

Up, up, and away

[stolen from the lovely Andrea]

Munchkins, I just had to leave a message about how excited I am to be jetting off tomorrow for an overnight in the mountains with my favourite fella. With all the chaos swirling around me in the past couple weeks, it's good to have someone who grounds you. It's good to get away to a space where you just want to swing out your arms, throw back your head and breathe it all in.

Happy (belated) Canada Day

I'm a day late, but as yesterday was a holiday I was nowhere near the computer. Instead, I tried my best to get the pictures in the Boy's kitchen to go on the wall in a straight line, we walked down to the Legislature for a fabulous picnic with Kitty and A, stared in shock at how empty my house is getting as I threw some more stuff into boxes, and watched the fireworks from my balcony. Fireworks are one of my very favourite things.

Alas, today's back to work, feeling very much like a Monday rather than a Thursday. On the plus side, the weekend (and tonight's football game) is on the horizon. Oh, and tomorrow my parents fly into town.

Yesterday on our way to see the hoards of people swimming at the Ledge, little kids with burnt faces, and more ice cream trucks/carts then we could count on both hands, Kitty mentioned that Canada Day was just like any other day.

"But aren't you glad to be Canadian?" I gasped.

"Meh," she shrugged.

"Don't you enjoy your civil liberties? Democracy? Health care? The fact that you're a woman and you live here rather than in somewhere like the Middle East? Political stability?"

"I guess," she pondered. "It's just that I haven't had to go through that by living somewhere else."

True enough. We're pretty lucky. I, for one, am pretty proud to be Canadian.

Looking back

Twenty-something Bloggers' June blog carnival is all about looking back. In looking back at some of my earliest posts on this blog, most of them were about newsy things. I ranted and raved about my beliefs and celebrated those doing good things. The one I'm commenting on today, Date with the Night, was one of the very few about me personally. Over the past two years, I've gotten increasingly comfortable talking about myself, not caring who reads it. I am me, deal with it.

-----
Date with the Night

Ah, Date night last night.It's been a while since I've been out and about and going on dates... which is probably why I agreed to go on this one in the first place. However, it merely convinced me of two things I already knew:
1) Dude was really nice and everything went fine, but I'm just not that into him.
2) I really am not a fan of dating.

I'm surrounded by girls who tend to measure themselves with the amount of interest that accumulates around them and I'm just not one of these. In my girl-power, independent woman way, I'm entirely alright with not having a boyfriend or anything. My last uber-serious relationship ended because I got sucked into it and forgot what I wanted out of life... hell, if I was still in it, I would still be living around London (Ontario, not UK). I'm so much better off out here, knowing what I want, working towards my own happiness.

Lately, I've been trying to explain this to Kik, one of the sisters. At 18, she seems to think that if she doesn't have a boyfriend, she's undesirable. Please! There are so many beautiful, intelligent women out there making themselves crazy over the male population. I'd rather just go with the flow and ride that wave when it hits.

-----

I found it interesting to see where I was at then in the pre-Boy days, and how it still applies. I still hate dating. I'm still independent and opinionated. The only difference is that I've found a boy who lets me be me. He celebrates my involvement in my community, he supports my decision to go back to school, and he acknowledges that I don't always have to agree with what he believes. In short, he's a-okay.

As the countdown to cohabitation is now on with a vengence, it's reassuring to know that I haven't waivered from being the person I was in January 2007.

This post is a part of 20SB’s Looking Back Blog Carnival, and Ben & Jerry’s is awarding free ice cream to lucky bloggers and their readers!

So here I am with open arms

It feels strange that after three years of accumulating, of adding to the two suitcases I dragged off the airplane, I'm decluttering.

I'm going through old pieces from my portfolio, deeming them expired. I'm throwing out old goodbye, thank you, and happy birthday messages. I tossed a stack of pictures feeling confident that if I ever care to replace them, printing is only a click away. It's easy to get lost while sitting on the floor with my legs crossed, falling deep into old memories, old decisions, the old me. I got rid of a couple of uninspired knitting projects, but the bin of yarn I keep under my bed is still overflowing. My "to read" stack of books gets unstacked and shoved into boxes, no doubt pushed aside for the next couple of years. I spend time on the phone with anyone who sends me mail, informing them of the change. I take my time walking to work, inhaling the feeling of downtown.

"Maybe it's good you're moving in over time," said Kitty. "That way, maybe he won't realize how much stuff you have."