You have probably noticed - if you're a Twitter follower, that is - that I have posted a few popcorn and Chardonnay movie snacks over the course of the last couple of weeks or so. Now that may or may not make much sense to you, but if you think about it it really does add up. It began when...
Bill came back into the winery, did the classic cut across the throat, and said “Everything is canceled!" Apparently they have this thing about valued customers getting skewered by lightning bolts.
Right now I will continue to reside in Las Vegas, where except for the fact that we have had a damned eternal summer, I have called home for more than two decades. My bucket list has a crystal ball in it that stubbornly won't let me peer into the future.
We got our flight and sat down at the lovely deck overlooking the scenery. Come to think of it, “The Scenery" seemed to be something that became part of everything that I did up there.
Ashland is about 15 miles from the California border; it's apparently where old hippies (and young ones) go to escape the rat race.
I came away with a new appreciation and excitement for the possibilities in Nevada. To be clear, we will never, ever be another California. It's not because we don't have the ability or the climate, but when over 80% of the state is in federal hands, that puts huge limitations on acreage alone.
Like many of the other wineries in the Ghetto, his vineyards are located in what can arguably be termed the middle of nowhere.
It doesn't seem too much to ask for clean sheets without holes, a fridge that I can use, room TV service that's dependable, and stable Internet. Either that or cut the price of a stay. I can get better service (fridge and all) at any Courtyard, and at a far lower cost.