This Blonde Ain't Just A Tease

Don't you hate being surprised and proven wrong?  I mean, when you get to age 40 you know just about everything there is to know, especially when it comes to beer (and everything else).  Just like me, you think you are right about 99.5% of the time, and the remaining .5% falls into the "statistically insignificant" category.  The second I laid eyes on the "Double Take" blonde at the grocery store I had this blog laid out in my head.  It went something like this....

Nothing compares...
I'll buy it anyway to prove a point...
I already have my favorite....
This is just packaging....
All other IPA's suck...

I went home and created the perfect tasting scenario.   I worked out,  I sweat quite a bit, I got really hot, and I got a great pump.  I couldn't wait to get out on the porch, grab the hose, and hit the dry spots on the grass while slowly sipping the brewed elixir that I purchased, although it wouldn't be near as good as my beloved Sierra Nevada.   Some prefer water, perhaps a recovery mix, but I prefer an ice cold beer as a reward for my efforts (Jen, I wasn't kidding about the coffee and cheesecake post-workout).  I sat down, let the water flow from the hose, and began sipping the Double Take IPA.

My love of Sierra Nevada began in approximately 2001.  My job required that I travel to Chico, Ca among many other areas in the Northern California territory.  As luck would have it,  an Irishman named Dan also covered the territory and thus began many a night of wearing the wobbly boot.   Stopping at the Sierra Nevada brewing company was always a priority.  In addition to the many pints we drank at noon, fish and chips was always high on the list as well.  Over time and after tasting every IPA I could find on the market, Sierra Nevada always remained at the top of my list.

From the first chug of Double Take, I knew I had been betrayed by my own preconceived notions.  Damn, if this IPA wasn't good.  I was prepared to be disappointed but I wasn't.  I looked down at the label and it read "At first sip this India Pale Ale will grab a hold of your palette and snap your attention back".  Crap, they weren't lying.    I had read similar exhortations many times in the past, but they were merely words.

I began to panic.  "What does this mean", I thought to myself?  I might  have to reconsider my position on my IPA priority moving forward.

The center of my beer universe had been shifted slightly.  I was a bit dizzy.  Suddenly I remembered I had a Sierra Nevada in the refrigerator.   I stumbled over, popped the top, took a quick swig, and all normalcy returned to my life.  Though I had been tempted by a blonde, and we had a swift, sudden, passionate affair approximating the feelings I have for Sierra, I knew in my heart it was merely a second place finish to that which I hold dear.

Don't worry Sierra, you're still my bitch.  But make sure you wear those high heels and short skirt because there's a temptress knockin' at the door.....

Why I stay Here

About once a year Nikki and I have the conversation about why we stay here in Northern California.  The state is broke, taxes are high, cost of living is high, gas is high, and on and on and on.  Sometimes we convince ourselves we need to get out of here, but then we go to San Francisco for the weekend and everything becomes clear again, and we know exactly why we stay here:  It may be the greatest city in the world.

Nikki's birthday was fast approaching last weekend, and like usual my ability to plan for these things was severely lacking.  You would think after 15 years of marriage basics like birthdays and anniversaries would get easier, but they never seem to.  For me, at least.   I would classify my ability to procrastinate as legendary.  I'm pretty sure nobody does it better than I do.   Right around Tuesday a brilliant idea came to me. My inner voice said, "I'll bet there's a few things to do in that city by the bay" (When the lights go down in the city.......come on, you know that's the first thing that popped into your head) and I began planning a night in San Francisco immediately.

I got the hotel first.  The Palace Hotel.  Didn't know a thing about it, but it looked old and decadent, so I booked it with a little help from Captain Kirk, my personal priceline negotiator.  Hey, it helps to know people.   Upon arrival, I realized I had made a good choice.  The architecture was old and gorgeous and not modern.  The first thing you see is the garden court with it's spectacular glass atrium area and a musical trio welcoming you and you can imagine a scene out of "Titanic" with the rich folks mingling and talking about the important business of the day.  Seated at a table nearest to the entrance was a table full of ladies with huge white hats.  I got dizzy for a second because I was certain I must have stepped through a loophole in time.  I'm positive I saw this scene in "Titanic".   It makes sense, the re-built Palace hotel was built in 1909 after the devastating earthquake in 1906, and the Titanic was built in 1908-1909.  I don't know what they were discussing or why they were dressed that way, I just know it was spectacular to see in 2011.  But that's the thing in San Francisco.  At any moment you may just walk into this type of setting on a random day at a random time while walking about.  Despite my procrastination, things were looking good.  I got lucky on the hotel, and now I just had to keep Nikki in the dark for another couple of hours.

When I began planning on Tuesday, I made some calls to see if there was a possibility anyone could join us for the weekend.  Thankfully, Brian and Lisa were able to accomodate my PS (procrastination schedule) and agreed to meet us there in stealth fashion.  To kill the time I took Nikki to Union Square where I knew she would be attracted Tiffany's like Snooki to a meathead.  The power of the turquoise box is undeniable and infallable.  For a procrastinator it's the easiest place in the world to take your wife because success is guaranteed.  She browsed and I took mental notes, because I knew she wanted me to make the "choice".    It's a complicated game, but the rules are such that the male must make the final decision on the piece of jewelry, although the female makes the choice crystal clear, short of winking her eye at the one she wants.

Nikki had to make a quick stop in Macy's so I waited outside to try my hand at some street photography. That's the other thing about a large city like SF, it's a photographer's paradise.   A photographer could make a career out of shooting the Golden Gate Bridge alone, and that's one of 10,000 things I could shoot on a given day in San Francisco.  I stood and tried to look inconspicuous while I shot passerby at the hot dog stand.  I think I was discovered, however, by the dude on the left.  He looks a little angry for some reason.  Easy my man, eat your dog and keep moving, it's not that traumatic to be photographed.

While I had a free moment I quickly texted Lisa and they were stuck in traffic.  Yee-haw, trying to plan a surprise is a like a pre-planned kick in the man satchel.    You know it will be painful, you're committed,  but you try to find a way to cope and get through it.  Plan B was to take Nikki to the antique shops on Union St. near the planned rendezvous point and wait for word from the lost I-80 crew.  Note to other males who may be reading:  Antique shops are similar in power to Tiffany's.   You can tell a lot of half-truths and the good news is your spouse will pay scant attention to what you say because they are so engrossed in the merchandise.   It was very easy for me to relay the fact that (oops!) our reservation is really an hour later than I thought, I must have mis-remembered (thank you Roger Clemens).    In a completely unrelated corollary:  Roger, you are a first class  Delta Bravo (DB, figure it out) for thinking that story was believable.  You must have been in an antique store when you concocted that!


Antique stores scare me a bit.  Looking at old stuff seems more creepy to me than it does fascinating.  I can see the old lady doll hovering over me at night, or the chimp banging his cymbals on my ears repeatedly while I'm tied down on the bed.   Unfortunately, we had to pick up the chimp for a friend's circus freak halloween party so he would be with us the rest of the night.  I'm typically good after about 5 minutes of the creep house. Blessedly, Lisa texted and said they were in place and we could head over to the restaurant.

According to Nikki, she was surprised by Lisa and Brian, and we had a great time celebrating her birthday at Marengo, eating sliders and yam fries and generous amounts of wine.  We stayed there for about two hours, then headed to the comedy show (Dave Attell), then to a blues performance, and then the night became less clear as the hours passed.

When I awoke the next morning, my antique store nightmare had come true.  The chimp had indeed been banging his cymbals on my head because I had a screaming headache.   I eventually rallied and got out of the room and we headed to Tiffany's so I could "choose" Nikki's gift, and then we headed home.

As we sat around recovering on Sunday, we had the conversation again.  We talked about the money we (over) spent, the things we did and the fun we had.  I was glad we did it, Nikki deserved it and we got to spend the evening with friends.  At the end of the conversation it was clear to us once again:  We can't leave here, it's the greatest city in the world.

Little Angels

Angelic.  That's the word that kept circulating through my mind as I was photographing  Dylan and Tori last month.  Nikki and I were on vacation to attend a high school reunion and catch up with some old friends in Colorado.  Jen  asked me to do a family shoot while we were there so we planned a day to spend with them barbecuing and taking photos.

Jen and Nikki first became friends in elementary school and stayed close through high school and became roommates for a while afterwards.  Life moved on, Nikki and I left Colorado for the military, and Jen met and married Will a few years later. About 16 years have passed since we left, but Nikki and Jen have remained close, communicating often on the phone and making the periodic visit to see each other when possible.  I'm usually with her on those visits and we have the opportunity to spend a day here and a day there together with Jen and her family.  I'd met Dylan twice, once when she was 14 months and once when she was 4, but I had never met Tori.   Mostly, though, I've known Jen and her family over the last 16 years via information communicated to me through Nikki.  Bits and pieces of anecdotes and stories were how I knew the girls up until the day we made the photographs.

I knew they were beautiful.  I had seen the photographs a well respected and established photographer made a couple years back.  When that level of photographer is willing to shoot your kids for free because they want them for their portfolio, you know the kids have "it".  I had never seen them interact with each other, however, and I had never spoken with them for any extended time, so I didn't know what to expect.  There's a chance they could be brats with a gigantic sense of self entitlement, which would spoil all of the physical beauty they clearly had.  After Will let us in, the first thing I see is two bundles of energy, in matching clothing, bounding down the stairs screaming Nikiiiiiiiiiiiiiiii............

My heart melted.  They knew who Nikki was partly because they had seen her before, but mostly because Jen talks about her and makes her seem fresh and current in their minds despite her absence.  That's how it is with old friends, they always feel like family and you feel immediate comfort in their presence.   They all ran upstairs to put the finishing touches on the girls' hair for the photoshoot.

I waited downstairs with Will and got caught up on his new life.  He recently decided to quit his job as a VP at mega humongous SAP and start his own consulting business.  That takes a lot of planning and a lot of brass stones to make it happen, but Will is a planner.  I'm hoping it rubs off on me somehow (note to self, spend more time with Will), but I doubt it.   I can't plan past this weekend, it's just how I've always been.  He's also a bass player in a band called  "Fina Dupa" (www.finadupa.com).   It's an interesting dynamic to observe the two sides of Will.  You've got the type "A" VP of business operations on the one hand, and a goateed bass-slappin' player hanging out at the dive bar polar opposite.   It's a nice juxtaposition, I wish I had more of the type "A" personality at times.

A short while later the girls all came down and we were ready to get down to business.   I quickly saw that any fleeting concerns I had about brattiness were completely unfounded.  The girls were polite, bright, charismatic, listened well, and loved each other a lot.  I can't imagine there is a sweeter sound than children laughing, and I heard a lot of it that day.   Watching their interaction with their parents and with each other was amazing.   Like Will the girls clearly have a juxtaposition in their individual personalities.

Dylan is smart, really smart (it's a bit unsettling to have a conversation with a 7 year old and have it feel like an adult conversation) and she's sweet.   Tori is both of those, but in a very different fashion.  She thinks about things differently, sees the world in another way.  Case in point:  the glass water container with the lemon and lime slices.

I walked up to the pitcher where Tori and Dylan were dutifully pouring water for the guests at the barbecue and noticed the lemon slices were floating and the lime slices were at the bottom (or vice versa,  like Tori, I'm not into details).  I found this to be particularly interesting and I had know idea why this would be the case, so I asked each girl about it.

Dylan (Reminder 7 years old):  "Well you see air can get into the little space on the surface of the lemon, and it brings them to the top.  The limes don't have that and they stay at the bottom, plus they are heavier".

(She said something along these lines.  I don't remember the exact words, but I know I was struck by the fact that she attempted to provide a scientific explanation to the problem.   Clearly she was analyzing the situation and articulating a solution as best she could)

Tori:  (pointing to the lemons)  You see these are magical and they float  (then pointing to the limes) These are also magical but they don't float (then she smiled and laughed hysterically).

Then I laughed.  Both answers were probably wrong, but the way they approached them came from polar opposite sides of the thinking spectrum.  

After we finished up the family photographs, both girls insisted that I take photos of them in their room.  Dylan was first and she requested I take something with all of her stuffed animals.  She fastidiously picked up each animal and placed it just so on the bed.  Then she carefully nestled herself down into the animals so as not to disturb the scene and gave me the sweetest smile.

I then moved over to Tori's room and saw that she had changed into a skirt from one of her halloween costumes and a ski hat (why?).  Two completely unrelated items, yet they fit so perfectly together on Tori.  Then she began climbing the bed and then jumping up and down like a kook.  I got what I needed and headed back downstairs.

I'm glad Jen asked me to shoot the photos.  It means a lot when somebody thinks your work is worthy of hanging on the wall (and they have really good stuff on their wall) and every photographic interaction allows you the chance to capture the soul and essence of your subject.

And if you're lucky, you get to work with angels.