Oh the wackiness…

Returned from a weekend with the family at Lakeport. I think people still get perplexed by our obsession with Lake County. Hell, I’m still perplexed by it, really. But we’ve been going up there for so long, it’s hard to really know why we like it so much anymore. It just seems rather…natural. Like grunting when you take a shit. It’s just one of those things you do.

Of course, we always have reasons to go up there. I mean, we aren’t just like “HEY! I want to go pay $150 a night to sit by the lake!” Well…no, not really. Had to think about that for a second there. Because I seriously think we’ve done that in the past here or there. Oh well. Sue us. We love it.

This time, we were up there for the Steele Winery Harvest Festival, among other things. Almost all of the other things were wine-related as well. The lack of surprise on your part is palpable. You know me well.

Mom and I drove up Friday morning, taking our time dawdling through Capay Valley. We’d fully planned to stop at The Oasis once and for all. Considering we’ve passed it time and again over the years, the promise of tri-tip sandwiches and beer-on-tap but a fleeting glimpse out the car window as we flew by at 70mph.

Of course…the one day we have time…they’re closed. Fuckers.

Before hitting our final destination of Lakeport, we stopped at Tulip Hill Winery, which resides in the old mineral water plant just outside of Nice (pronounced “neese” for those of you Not In the Know). The place just opened this past spring, and we’d hoped to find another winery to frequent while in the area, considering we were already molesting Wildhurst and Steele on a regular basis. You can never have too many wineries to visit! Tulip Hill rocked the casbah with a fantastic Chardonnay and an even more fantastic Old Vine Zin. Mum and I both bought half a case, and each got a nifty and definitely retainable carrier. I should take a picture and post it for you. It’s gorgeous. I could live in it, it’s so pretty. Check back in a few days and I might amend this post and add the picture. Heh.

Anyhoo, we sallied forth and checked into our regular digs at the Skylark, dumping our luggage before continuing on to Wildhurst for fantastic case deals (scored half a case of their Mackinaw Zin for $35…w00t!), stopping briefly at K-Mart for shoes and Halloween candy (don’t ask), and picking up fixin’s for a salad dinner at Safeway. It was one of those good days where you just have not a care in the world and you do whatever sounds good. Kevin, Cutter, and Katy arrived a little after 8pm and we finished the evening watching 50 First Dates. All I can say is, the movie put me to sleep. Adam Sandler can only be funny once in a blue moon. This was not one of those times.

The next day, mum woke me up early to borrow my car for a latte run, and I ended up going with her. Pajamas and all. Oh it was a cute sight to behold, I’m sure. I ended up snagging a triple mocha with an Almond Joy shot. I’m not usually a fan of the flavored coffees and frou-frou shit. I like good ol’ black coffee normally. But hot damn, you slide the words “Almond Joy” in front of my face and I become your bitch. I will let you spank me ten ways from Tuesday, so long as I get to put the coconut-almond goodness inside my body soon after.

Later that morning we got all gussied up, hit K-Mart again because of course I forgot my belt, and my pants are less than snug. Then…we went bowling. Yes. You heard me. We went bowling. It was fantastic fun, too. I found a ball that had offset holes, and it just worked miracles for me. I was rocking lane 3 at the Lakeport Bowl, lemme tell ya. Yeah, I ended up with a whopping 103. And I was in second place. Scary. I’m definitely no top-notch bowler…but considering in the past my score has hovered somewhere around the high 40’s, I thought 103 was a nice change-up.

After that rousing round of bowling, we scurried on over to the harvest festival, where we tasted four wines, ate a lot of sno cones (WILL HUMP BUTT FOR ROOT BEER-n-BANANA), and got our caricatures drawn. Here’s the one mum and I had done. Mum’s is accurate, mine looks more like how I wish I could look. But the girl was super nice and that made all the difference in the world.

We refrained from entering the grape stomp competition this year. After winning it several times prior, it just felt like “Been there, done that, bought the t-shirt.” So we left that to the tourists and amateurs. We’re pros now. Fuck yeah.

Dad arrived shortly before we got back to the cabin, and the rest of the evening was spent kicking some serious ass in horseshoes (Kevin and I officially RULE the WORLD), barbecuing an amazing tri-tip, and watching dad get completely shitfaced and almost passing out in his dinner. To keep myself entertained throughout dinner, I occasionally tied cherry stems in knots with my tongue. Yes, I really did. No, I didn’t save them. But my mum was impressed. I think she wants to learn how to take on this great talent. That is far more than I really needed to know about my folks’ sex life.

We had to put dad to bed. It was 8pm and dad was just beyond all ability to interact with anything other than furniture and bathroom fixtures. I turned down the bed, mum led him in there like a geriatric, and just before dad passed out for good, he cried out “Sharon!” in typical Ozzy fashion. Even completely fucked, my dad still manages to be a 10 on the Hip Scale.

I slept well that night myself, and by this morning, I was ready to roll on home. We had a scrummy breakfast at our fave little dive next to the Skylark, and then we hit the road and bid a rousing Ciao! to Lakeport until November. Thanksgiving and all. You know us. We can’t get enough of the lake.

So. Yeah. That was my weekend. I’m sure you’d rather have read some minor rage against the machine or sommut, but frankly I’m too pooped to rant. Oh well. At least you can be happy with the knowledge that I’ll upload the Lakeport and wedding photo albums this weekend. Because you have NOTHING better to do, right? Right.