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When I slunk into work the next morning with two unyielding, risqué tattoos in full view, my coworkers at The Day Job™ asked, "Just exactly what were you doing in (insert air quotes here) Wine Country?!?"
Which means that you will be forced to visit their wine countries in order to buy many of the wines. I'm good with that.
It bodes well for the resurgence of cork, particularly in light of serious environmental and climate concerns.
And the lottery tickets didn't help. Eight dollars in winnings don't exactly add up to a retirement-worthy windfall.
I had an embarrassingly large meal at the Brat Stop (where two insane people are the proprietors), but it helped me to continue to observe and photograph the event without having to worry about the drunken staggering factor.
I'm especially happy that I had the presence of mind to stop at Refugio State Beach and take some footage and photos just days before the horrific and inexcusable oil spill.
Yes, growing grapes is similar to actual farming, but he noted that while regular crops required water in order to live and thrive, grapevines only required water to not die.
When I stopped for gas at Barstow, I opened up the glove box to see if there was a manual in there. Well there was. Unfortunately, it was on a CD, still nicely shrink-wrapped. What use was that?!?
After all, cork isn't trying to function like screwcaps or synthetics, but the verso is most definitely true.
New tax laws are being escorted through the legislature like a hot date on prom night, and this bill which has the potential of bringing so much business - and its resulting revenue flow - into the state is looked upon as “minor.”
So how did I go from ecstasy to dismay faster than a funny car at the Winternationals?
The transcendent moment came when I sampled their exquisite Auslese, Beerenauslese, Trockenbeerenauslese, and Eiswein. Yes, I had them all. Don't hate me because I'm Prüm.