Zhadi's Den

Random essays on wine, writing, moving to San Francisco, surfing, cats (exotic and otherwise) and zombies...depending on my mood.

Tuesday, June 27, 2006

The NICE part of my weekend.

Well, I haven't taken pictures of my car or tire as planned, only because I wasn't quite sure where I stashed my digital camera and was far too lazy to dig it out until after the sun went down. Now it's too dark to take pictures, so that'll happen tomorrow.

Figured I'd talk about the part of my weekend that didn't involve exploding circles of rubber and steel. The nice part. Like the drive UP to Humboldt on Friday. Other than some triple digit temps on the inland part of the journey (it hit 80 at 9AM in Santa Rosa) and the fact that I only use my air-conditioner on level road or on a decline (lots of uphill stretches going to Humboldt), I got no complaints.

Took the 101 up to the 128 West, which goes through the Anderson Valley (home of some lovely wineries, such as Brutocao, Navarro, and Roederer Estates, just to name a few), stopped at Brutocao to pick up some wine for Brian. I also stopped at the Trader Joe's in Santa Rosa for supplies because, though Humboldt County has a lot of things going for it (gorgeous scenery, redwoods, ocean, timber, crab for 3.99 a pound and plenty of tie-dye, goddamn hippies, and politically correct folk - the cloud of SMUG over Arcata is frightening), it has no Trader Joe's. To a Southern Californian, used to doing the bulk of his shopping at TJ's, it's like a junkie trying to go cold turkey off heroine.

I did no wine tasting, having a strict rule about the whole drinking and driving business these days. Just picked up the wine and drove on towards the Mendocino coast. If you've ever driven through a redwood forest on a sunny day, you'll know it's like driving with nature's strobe-light the whole time. Shadow/sunlight/shadow/sunlight. Deceptively peaceful, easy to get lulled into a semi-hypnotic state. Pretty, but more than 10 minutes of it on a one lane windy road is exhausting.

Glass Beach was, as usual, covered with glass. With no one to pull me out of there, I had to regulate myself, so I deliberately didn't stop at the nearby Denny's to use the bathroom before going down to the beach. I'm like a dragon with a hoard of gold when I go to Glass Beach. Except I don't spit fire at other people who trespass on my territory. 'Cause I can't. Or maybe I would.

Sure enough, after a half hour of single-mindedly sorting through and collecting glass, the call of the bladder overrode my obsession and I headed off to Denny's to pee before getting back on the road.

Another hour of windy coastal and redwood forest highway. The first 20 minutes I was stuck behind someone going 15 miles UNDER the speed limit, even on the straightaway section. I wasn't exactly in a hurry and I refuse to tailgate, but jeez louise, people, get the lead out! They ignored turnouts and passing lanes. If I'd had a cannon mounted on my Saturn, I would have used it. They were bastard people and I hated their ass faces.

They finally turned off and I had a lovely stretch of about 20 miles with no one behind me, no one in front of me. I could go the perfect speed with no one riding up my ass or making me hit the breaks every five seconds. What's the perfect speed, you might ask? Whatever speed I wanna drive, of course. Silly question.

I made good time to Eureka, stopped a market in Trinidad to pick up a couple of 3.99 a pound crabs for dinner. Freshly caught, freshly cooked. We had it with avocado slices, melted butter, bread, and a Brutocao Chardonnay. Gourmet eats for a budget price. Yummy...

There were leftovers too. So we had crab quesadillas for lunch the next day, and scrambled eggs with crab Sunday morning. Did I mention I love crab? On my way out of town, I picked up a crab to bring home. I'm happy to say that it survived the blow-out too.

Yawn...I'm sleepy. So quick wrap-up.

As we always do when we get together, Brian and I took Boska for walks in the woods and on the beach (with me keeping a wary eye out for sneaker waves, something that the Humboldt and Mendocino beaches are notorious for), watched movies (Mr. & Mrs. Smith; Orgazmo; the second Underworld movie, during which I waited in vain for Kate Beckinsale to change her expression), and listened to Shmoo periodically mrroww mournfully for no apparent reason.

When it was time to leave, Boska jumped in the backseat of the car without hesitation. She handled the blow-out with more calm than I did, although we both had to sneak off into the bushes at the side of the freeway to relieve our bladders after it happened. No, I have no shame when it comes to matters of the kidneys. Remind me to tell you about the bus trip home from Grad Night...

Or maybe not.


  • At 3:51 AM, Blogger Mr. Fabulous said…

    That does sound like a nice weekend, but it needed something...

    Maybe a car chase. Why couldn't there have been a car chase that culminated with the tire blowout?

    Throw in some Chinese organ thieves and a coulple of Nazi frogmen...maybe a nun or two.

    THERE'S a weekend!

    I just got the idea for a post...

  • At 2:25 PM, Blogger zhadi said…

    If there'd been a car chase, I would have gotten home even later. You just write your post, Mr. Fab...I look forward to reading about the Nazi nuns!

  • At 3:12 PM, Blogger Abyss of Silence said…

    Maybe it's just the mood I'm in right now but everything you are writing is making me laugh.

    Special thanks to you for: "They were bastard people and I hated their ass faces."


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