by Christine | Observations
In these days of global uncertainty, it’s nice to relax with a bottle of wine that doesn’t break your pocketbook. I’m here to sort out the memorable from the truly awful, and each bottle is under $10 unless noted otherwise.
Today I’m talking about the pink wines, my favorites, the Rose´s. Not to be confused with White Zinfandel *shudder*. It’s not that you won’t remain my friend if you drink White Zin. But I admit that it will shift the way I think about you. Let’s call it my character flaw and move on, shall we? (And for those who love White Zinfandel, here’s an article telling you why you’re right to love it and I’m all wrong, lol.)
Trader Joe’s Petit Reserve Rose´ Mendocino County, 2012 Alcohol 14.5% by Volume; about $8
On The Label: “This lovely Rose´ is crisp and off-dry with notes of strawberry jam, raspberries, and stone fruits. It is full-bodied and well-balanced with a long lingering finish.”
My Take: Very pretty color, and a nice flavor. Not a wine I would drink with a heavy meal, but perfect for noshing and sipping while discussing movies with friends on a balcony nineteen floors up, the night wind caressing the heat from your skin. It has a steel Chardonnay characteristic to my taste.
My Rating: ~ Drinkable ~ Good for pool parties, chips and dips, and hanging out with friends and talking. High alcohol content, though, so watch that you sip water between glasses of wine.
Green Fin 2013 California Grenache Rose´ Made with organic grapes. Alcohol 11.5%
I couldn’t find a photo of the Grenache Rose´, sigh. This one is from Cellartracker.com
by Volume; about $5
On The Label: “Made entirely with organically grown grapes, this Grenache Rose´was gently pressed and cold fermented to maintain a true Rose´character. Sweet cherries and perfumed raspberries swirl together and blend into the palate where a refreshing finish rounds out the organically grown wine. Serve slightly chilled. Enjoy!”
My Take: Yet another label that gets kind of gooey. If you’ve been reading this wine blog for any length of time, you know that the more descriptive the label, the more snarly I get. Which is the main reason I never read labels before buying wine. Anyway – tasty? Yes. Less of a Chardonnay taste, and more of a gentle sipping wine taste. No food necessary, especially at the lower alcohol content, but good with noshes too.
My Rating: ~ Drinkable ~ and at this price you can get several bottles for that party you’ve been meaning to have. Perfect, again, for sipping poolside, or late at night with good friends and meaningful conversation.
As usual, this is just my honest opinion which will depend upon my mood, the weather, and what cycle the moon is in. Your taste buds will differ.
~ Until the next time, cheers! ~
)O(
My Rating System: Undrinkable; Barely Drinkable; Drinkable; Very Drinkable; and the ever-popular “Stay Away! This is MY wine, you Slut!”
by Christine | Life, Observations, Writing
Hi there! Yeah, it’s me. Sorry I’ve been absent. There’s been SO much going on that it’s going to take me a while to get everything organized in my brain. But first off, my dad was given a Lifetime Achievement Award for everything he’s done for the San Diego Book Awards and Read-4-Fun programs (both groups live on donations, by the way). He started those two groups twenty years ago, and they’re still going strong. My husband and I, as well as my brother Greg and his lovely wife Tina, were all there to cheer him on.
Chet Cunningham, passing on his wisdom at the San Diego Book Awards night. Photo by Greg Cunningham.
Yeah, so everyone stood in front of the projector – but that didn’t lessen his savoire faire.
A couple more photos from that night…
Mark A. Clements presenting the Lifetime Achievement Award to Chet Cunningham, San Diego, June 21, 2014. Photo by Greg Cunningham.
Mark A. Clements is SO TALL (about 6’6″ or 6’7″…) and my dad so short, lol! Below, Daddy rocking his Cunningham tartan hat and beard.
Dad with the plaque, and rocking his beard! June 21, 2014 Photo by Greg Cunningham
The San Diego Book Awards ceremony was held about four weeks after he was flooded out of his house. (You can read the first installment and see the photos of that here). On June 21, 2014 I wandered through the house I’d been born in, and it seemed so small. Bare of everything. Stripped down to the cement foundation, the house looked awkward, old. It felt chilly despite the warmth of the day, as if everything I’ve grown up with and known is gone forever. But I had to face it. Seeing it that way, while my dad is alive, was sad, yes; but not devastating.
(The above photo is also by Greg Cunningham.)
As of this writing, Dad’s still not back in his house, but the carpet is in and all the painting is done. (We thought we’d be moving him back in last weekend but it didn’t happen.) As he keeps saying, he’s writing 2K a day because there’s nothing else to do at the residence hotel he’s been staying at (for almost two months now). He’s discombobulated and just wants to get back to his garden, and who can blame him?
(I’ll have another post later about the 4th of July in Tehachapi – wonderful day!)
As for me, I’ve got lots on my plate. Finishing up a Fairy Tale on spec, editing my ballet novel, working on book 2 of the StarTide Talent Agency series, plus coming out with new editions of my Demon series books (plus book 3, finally!). Busy, but that’s the way I like it.
OH! And I’m working on a 48-hour Film project at the beginning of August, writing with Mona Deutsch Miller and Cailin Maureen Harrison. It’s Mona’s project – I’m just along for the ride, lol!
Plus there are some short plays I’m working on. Busy, it seems, doesn’t begin to describe my life…please add in there the Day Job and family. Whee!
Next week, if you’re in San Antonio, come see me…
I’ll be at the Romance Writers of America Annual National Conference. There’s a HUGE book signing that’s open to the public on Wednesday, July 23rd, from 5:30pm to 8pm – I’m not signing, but I’ll be there helping the authors who are. I’d love to see you! So grab me and tell me how you know me, because I’m terrible with both names and faces, and I promise you a big squishy hug.
Here we are, in the middle of summer. Hope yours is going swimmingly! Hug your loved ones and keep positive. Life just keeps on getting better.
Write Hard!
)O(
by Christine | Life, Observations
It didn’t used to happen. Falling, I mean. Sure, I’d walk into walls. I’d trip over absolutely nothing. Ballet dancers do that (or I did, anyway). But falling? Only when I was aiming for a triple pirouette.
But Then I Hit 40. And then 50.
Things started to change. A benign tumor was growing in my right ear. Fibroids were developing in my uterus. My center of balance started to shift. Falls became more common.
I have some doozies in my recent past. Like, right over the top of the handlebars, for instance. Or falling backward from opening the window, and landing on my tailbone. Oh, and there was the one where I was walking to the kitchen and I stepped wrong, and broke my fibula. Yeah, that was a good one. (Fast forward ten months and I did it again, at the Day Job. Sigh.)
Since then, there were the two – or maybe three – times I’ve gone sprawling, face-first, in the grocery store. (I blame the shoes I wore.) Or on the street, heading to my car. (Dark, rain, puddles, headlights.)
By now, the tumor is long gone. Ditto the uterus. I should be back to “normal” and just be walking into walls and tripping over nothing. Right? For some reason, I’m not. And that totally sucks.
Falling never ceases to be nerve wracking. Like, is this the time I totally ruin my body? Or, is my tumor back? In the other ear this time, maybe? Do I have multiple sclerosis like my mother did? Is this the time I break a hip, an elbow, both wrists? The thoughts that go through my head after a fall are agonizing, and I know I can’t be alone there.
I do balance exercises. It’s one of the reasons I started giving myself a ballet barre again. I work at balance, I swear I do.
17 at Heart
In my heart of hearts, I’m seventeen. Or maybe twenty-nine. (Oh, shut up, lol.) I have the verve and agility and balance out the wazoo that I used to have. And that remembered verve gets me in trouble. I wish it didn’t, but it does. Every. Single. Time.
My last fall happened over the weekend. I’d been meaning to do something – not sure what – and when reminded, I jumped up from the chair with verve and alacrity, and immediately tripped over the footstool. Barking my shin, my toes, bumping the coffee table which tipped over several fragile marble chess pieces (breaking two), landing on one hip and one wrist before gracefully rolling onto my back, legs to my chest, breathing slowly and taking inventory.
Two days later, my wrist is still sore. My hip has recovered, as have my toes. My shin has a nice 4 inch, barely visible scrape/bruise which is tender to the touch but otherwise unremarkable. I have survived. I live, to fall another day.
I will redouble my balance work. I will do my best to make my pathways as clear as possible. I will do everything in my power to stop falling. But the one thing I refuse to do is pull away from my inner seventeen-year-old. I like her. I don’t want to give her up. I don’t want to have to live so cautiously that I am afraid to do anything. Because for me, that’s no way to live.
My spirit is seventeen. I’ll curb her when I need to, but I won’t squash her.
)O(
Why do older people fall…
Falling and Multiple Sclerosis…
Stop me falling…
by Christine | Life, Observations
Handicapped? Yeah, right…
I used to judge people who parked in handicapped spaces and then step out jauntily from their sporty car. Most of these folks looked rich and entitled. They rarely looked disabled. Many of them, most likely, weren’t even handicapped. I mean, come on. UCLA football players were caught illegally obtaining handicapped parking placards in 1999, so it’s not like this is a new thing.
But then I became disabled. Or, rather, I gained a disability, as technically I’m not disabled. And while I don’t need a handicapped parking placard, I have come to realize that my disability is invisible, which brought me to the thought that there are many disabilities that are invisible.
As I’m also working on making my world as much a judgment-free zone (because judging people without all the facts is a pet peeve of mine), I decided this is one thing I can discuss from personal knowledge. (Okay, not the handicapped parking placard per se, but the invisible disability part.)
Losing hearing in one ear is a disability.
Like I said, it’s not one that comes with a handicapped parking placard, and it’s absolutely nothing when compared with total deafness. But not being able to echo-locate can be dangerous, mainly because I still think I can. For instance, I can’t always hear cars coming on my right side when I cross the street, so I have to be extra-vigilant. I can’t tell where gunfire is coming from (and in many areas of America, that’s damned important), or which direction a siren is coming from. A crowded, noisy room gives me a headache and makes me talk much louder than I normally would. Plus I have to turn my good ear toward the person speaking, so I can hear them – which often means I can’t SEE them when they talk, which can lead to awkward social interactions – until I confess my disability to the other party. (Okay, that last isn’t dangerous; it just has the possibility of being totally awkward.)
Other “Invisible” Disabilities
Other disabilities that might not be immediately apparent and that could require that handicapped parking placard are described as follows, from the Invisible Disabilities Association:
“The term invisible disabilities refers to symptoms such as debilitating pain, fatigue, dizziness, cognitive dysfunctions, brain injuries, learning differences and mental health disorders, as well as hearing and vision impairments. These are not always obvious to the onlooker, but can sometimes or always limit daily activities, range from mild challenges to severe limitations and vary from person to person.”
Now, granted, someone with cognitive dysfunctions (for instance) probably won’t be driving a car; but the point is, there are disabilities out there that are not noticeable, and that may require a handicapped placard. Or, you know, some compassion.
So what the hell am I asking here?
Think before you judge. Pretty please.
Think before you speak your mind to the person popping out of her expensive car in a handicapped parking spot. This might be her first pain-free day in weeks. Think before you cuss out someone who doesn’t get out of your way in the grocery store, even though you’ve said a polite “excuse me”. This may be his first foray into the world after surgery (which can leave the brain muddled for months). Think before you make fun of someone who doesn’t look/act/talk the way you do. They have as much right to live a happy life as you do.
And if you see a woman about to step into the path of an oncoming car, make sure to shout at her and get her attention. She just might not have heard that car coming up on her deaf side. (My thanks to the anonymous gardener in Studio City, who made sure I didn’t lose an argument with a speeding SUV last week.)
Live a compassionate life, people. In doing so, you’ll receive compassion, which is something all of us deserve.
)O(
So, what’s one of your pet peeves? I’d love to know!
by Christine | Observations, Writer Wednesday, Writing
Everyone’s doing boxed sets this year, several books bound together with one low, low price. This phenomenon has usually been in the romance world – sweet romances, country romances, sexy romances, gothic – well, you get my point.
Now, just in time for Father’s Day, Wolfpack Publishing has come out with a Western Boxed Set. Some authors you may know include Kat Martin, L.J. Martin, and Chet Cunningham (yes, my dad). So I’m VERY excited to share this with you.
Spread the word, grab the boxed set for your dad’s Kindle, and make my day. Here’s the blurb for it:
“NEW RELEASE SPECIAL $1.99 FOR A LIMITED TIME! 9 full length Western novels from America’s premier western writers – Western Writers of America Spur Award winners and runners up, NYT best selling authors. Frank Roderus, Robert Vaughn, Gary McCarthy, Chet Cunningham, Douglas Hirt, Kat Martin, L.J. Martin, Cliff Hudgins & Thom Nicholson. Over 650,000 words of fine western writing. Action, Adventure, Romance at its very best!”
This includes my dad’s book WADE’S WAR. So you see, you REALLY need to pick this up!
)O(
Thanks for dropping by! Who’s your favorite Western writer?
by Christine | Life, Observations
My dad had a devastating flood at his house. Apparently the toilet in the front bathroom (which had become something of a pain in the past decade) overflowed. And kept flowing. All night.
When he got up at 4 in the morning, there was 2 to 3 inches of water in his bathroom. The living room was flooded. Hallway. My old bedroom. Parts of his bedroom. Parts of the den.
People came out to cut carpet away and set up dehumidifiers. They were without water for a couple of days. When the insurance company folks came out, they said the tile under the carpet had to go as well. The tile? Asbestos. Yep. So now my dad can’t even live in the house until all the work is done. Oh, and the wallboards will have to be replaced, too. Two to three feet up.
So he and his caregiver are in a residence hotel about half an hour away from his house while the work goes on. My brother was there this past weekend, and took some photos.
Before and afters, coming right up…
Dad’s living room, pre-flood.
Post Flood
The closet where dad stores copies of his books. Yes, those are all his.
Cleaned out.
My room and the master bedroom sealed off due to asbestos floor tile.
One more – the hallway looking into the living room.
Sigh.
Everything changes. Even the house I grew up in. The last time I was down there, in May, I had taken tons of photos of the house – the photo wall, the kitchen, the garden, everything. Except when I got home, only two shots – of me and dad – had actually registered on the camera.
May, 2014
Here’s hoping the magic folks who are packing up my dad’s house and doing all the work it will take to make it habitable again do an amazing job, and that my dad is back in his home very soon.
Oh, and by the way – this is a public service announcement. If you don’t have homeowner’s insurance, OR renter’s insurance, get some. Trust me, it’s not money wasted. My dad has a $500 deductible which I’m sure has already been spent. Insurance is taking care of the rest.
Happy Monday. Count your blessings!
)O(
Trader Joe’s Petit Reserve Rose´ Mendocino County, 2012 Alcohol 14.5% by Volume; about $8
