New World Takes on a Whole New Meaning

I am totally in awe of Crushpad. It’s brand-y new boutique DIY winemaking awesomeness.  They say they are democratizing the wine industry.  I say f*ck yeah!

In their own words:

Who is Crushpad anyway? Well, we’re a combination of wine industry veterans and technology industry refugees who want to liberate winemaking from the stereotype of the 5th generation wine family living on the chateau with the Golden Retriever. By bringing winemaking to the city, augmenting it with education and support, and taking care of the time-consuming parts, we want to enable anyone with a serious interest in wine to participate in the magic of winemaking.

Basically, you get to design and make your own wine online in collaboration with experts and advisors online. Monitor the growth in the vineyards online, participate in the harvest if you want,  choose your barrels, your fermentation techniques, everything. Here’s the very clear easy “how does it work” page.  Explains it better than I can.

And what’s even better? I learned about them through a joint twitter and charity initiative. For every bottle you buy of their 2009 “Fledgling” wine, pictured above, they donate $5 to Room to Read, a literacy program that brings books to extremely impoverished children around the world and whose motto is, “world change starts with educated children.” Here’s a link to a video on how this all works.

So, as I’m starting to “get” twitter more and more every day, I am awed at its ability to take on projects like this one.  Humanity.  The more things change…

There you go. I bought two Fledgling bottles for my parents. So should you!

Wine and Surveys

Two very significant events of the day.

1) I was surveyed by an official of the government.  And it was the law.  I had a legal obligation to take a “community survey” or who knows, I could have gone to jail.  Questions like, what is your religious bservance, are you happy with the cleanliness of your neighborhood, do you think buses should run on the sabbath, are you happy in your career, do you rent, do you make enough money, who do you turn to in crisis, etc, etc, etc.  This lady stalked me for a couple of weeks.  Really.  I was 1 out of 10,000 chosen, and she told me to think of it as an honor — I represent at least 200 other people in my exact situation.  Why not be counted?

2) I had my first girls’ wine night.  Italians.  It was really really fun.  And as I’m writing now a bit sloshed, it was a good night indeed.  We opened a Valpolicella, a Nero D’Avola, and  super-Tuscan 100% Cabernet Sauvignon.  North, South and Middle.  It was awesome.  Rather new friends of mine from the winery we all work for.  Amazing palates, good cheese and veg, fun conversation, and excellent wine.  The first was like a perfect midway between a Pinot Noir and a Chianti.  The second (Sicilian) was like a Syrah but more robust, if you can say that, with just a gorgeous complexity.  The third was a real true blue Cabernet Sauvignon.  Smelled like one, looked like one, tasted like one (but not as strong as it could have been).  For Italy, amazing.

Oh, boys and girls, tomorrow I’ve got yoga.  And my therapist.  And more work to do.  And dishes to wash.  And cats to feed.  It never ends.  Never.

I met a man very briefly at a tiny cafe-sandwich bar.  A sci-fi nut like myself, although I tend to be quite closeted, coupled with the fact that you can’t really see it on me.  I visited his profile on facebook after we friended each other.  He had a quotation attributed to Yoda from Star Wars:

Do, or do not.  There is no try.

So plain.  So simple.  It has helped me to think of this.  I am entirely responsible.

Ice Cream en Provence

(re-posted from October 5)

Taking solace in churning out home made ice cream isn’t a bad way to cope. In fact, the results can be positively inspirational. Especially if you’re vacationing in rural Provence with middle aged eccentrics some of whom you didn’t really know beforehand.

It was destined to be a weird week with my hosts. Not that it didn’t have it’s highlights.

The beautiful vacation home was as lush and beautiful as you could hope for, with comfortable bedrooms, a large in-ground pool, carefully chosen decor (bullfighting was the artistic theme…that and several bad reproductions of impressionist masters), stunning landscaping (olive trees, rosemary, and lavender, lavender, lavender…), an indoor kitchen, and an outdoor kitchen beside the pool connected to a separate pool house, decked out in a master bedroom and open plan bathroom.

The village of Tavel, home to some of France’s best Rose wine and a mere 15 minutes from Avignon, was quiet, charming, and full of vineyards as far as the eye can see.

My hosts and I would get into a rental car or cars after a breakfast-nosh of leftover cheese rinds, salami, crusty bread, and way too much coffee, and we’d head for — where else — Chateauneuf du Pape, center of some of the very best wines in France — or Avignon for some casual sightseeing and an artful eyeful of gourmet lunch — or Arles, the famed adopted home of Van Gogh, for some ancient Roman ruins and a quick 7-course bite at a Michelin-starred eatery.

The vacation kind of kept happening like that. It was oddly like being stuck in the back seat with some overgrown brothers and sisters on a long road trip to Disneyland, except the theme park was everywhere, and all you had to do was throw money on it to make it jump up and do miraculous things for you. A lot of wine. A lot of decadent food. Marijuana smoke billowing in our wake. Literally.

Yet, I often felt stuck. Here I was, a guest. Kind of. On someone else’s family vacation. I should have felt grateful. Just to be there. Most of the time was pretty good. Of course, in retrospect, I probably subconsciously feel I have to tell myself this. The food was amazing — we, my hosts and I, are great cooks, and every night was a feast. A real feast.

But it went from awkwardly great, to awkwardly good, to awkwardly emotional, to just plain awkward, and by then of course, my neurotic paranoia was well on its way to getting the best of me.

Little things — from thinking everyone could hear everything I was doing in the bathroom (which kept me from relieving myself until I was convinced nobody was around), to slightly bigger things — thinking that nobody really wanted me there and that I was at best an annoyance and at worst ruining everyone else’s vacation — made it difficult for me to have fun. I kept accidentally cutting myself, too, with the ridiculously-sharp Japanese Damascus steel kitchen knives they brought (6 times in total, some of them deep gashes), and it became an inside joke during the trip. Finally, when I woke up gasping for breath, filled with worry and on the edge of a major panic attack, I realized something larger was going on. PMS. Since I quit my meds, life has been pretty OK. Until 3-6 days before my period. When moderate to major depression kicks in. Here I was in France, in Provence, with good friends, people who cared about me, and I was rocking in bed at 3 am, absolutely convinced that I had nothing to look forward to in life, and that it was next to impossible that I would ever find a partner.

It was the cooking that saved me. Or rather, the ice cream. Early on we hit a huge grocery-superstore, a kind of Wal-Mart meets Whole Foods, and seeing who I was with, it was like one of those supermarket sweepstakes TV shows — everything went into the shopping cart. Including an ice cream machine.

Every day I made at least one, but sometimes up to three new flavors. I ended up contributing less and less to the actual cooking of the meals, and just came up with a frozen dessert every night. Which suited me fine. I got to have my little island of solitude. On a trip where I had little choice and next to no freedom of movement, making silly savory locally flavored confections was my pride, my joy, and really, my vacation.

So, I’ll leave you with the list, the lovely little list of the treasures I created, the products of my vacation:

1) Goat cheese and roasted pine nuts, the first, and the week’s ultimate winner
2) Real rose and rosewater, this was delicate and the favorite of some
3) Pear cardamom – subtle and comforting, like apple pie but with a Mediterranean twist
4) Chocolate chili chunk – darkest chocolate you can imagine and exceptionally spicy
5) Lavender honey meringue – an experiment with mixed results
6) Verbena and ginger sorbet – another experiment inspired by Mr Avignon Michelin
7) Basil Lemon – the only one made from a recipe, and it was exquisite
8) Goat cheese, creme fraiche, honey, and roasted cashew – a twist on day one with excellent results

I went through something like 3 dozen eggs in making all of these custards. A real feat. Oh, the vanilla, the spices, the herbs. It was fun. On my last night, everyone talked about how I should start a twitter-based traveling ice cream business. Because it was just that good.

8 Days: Infinity on end

Funny how the symbol for infinity is an eight turned on its side.  Or maybe I should ask why an eight is an infinity symbol standing on end.   In any case, it’s almost a week until my 30th, and it might as well be an eternity away for how much a have to accomplish  by that date…

Being an avid book lover and having to move apartments to a fourth floor walkup without any cash or much help is a nightmare.  Having to do this in the middle of summer in Tel Aviv with a twenty year-old borrowed car (without AC) on its very last leg made this hell on earth.

But I survived.  Every muscle shaking.  So wet from sweat, it was like I’d jumped in the sea with all my clothes on.

And here I sit.  In the gorgeous new place.  No idea how I will be paying for it.  Not at all unpacked.  And with a couple more loads of stuff to bring over from my old place.

I did have a short interview today.  For what could be the answer to my prayers.  A work from home job that could pay exceptionally well to basically be a long-distance secretary. But the chances are low, and the interview process long.  Which means the resumes still keep going out.

And I’m going to turn in.  I can actually get about 8 hours sleep tonight…a far cry from the 3-4 hours I’ve been getting because of the move.  Tomorrow is another wine tasting.  My feet hurt.  And a word to the wise:

NEVER mix Moscato with Arak.

It’s a nasty combination.

14 Days: Monetize?

A day of fine wine, exceptionally hot heat, a stubborn sick cat, and of course, exhaustion.

Wine in the summer?

The tasting I led to today was at a very nice wine shop in a very posh neighborhood right next to where my cousins live.  Unfortunately, the store was pretty small, and they asked me to set up shop, (wine buckets, ice, crystal glasses, wine menus, the works) outside.  I wasn’t happy, but there didn’t seem to be another option.  I could have left early.  I could have called my manager.  I could have been a bitch.  But I was good.  I may have heat stroke, but I’m good.  And again, wrong shoe choice!  I never want to stand up again!

Recommendations for the weekend: Yarden Chardonnay 2006 (oaky mature layered gorgeous awesomeness); Gamla Sauvignon Blanc 2008 (crisp dry fruity).

Listen to your vet!

My cat who I thought was on the mend is most decidedly not.  Folks, if your vet asks you for a stool sample, provide him with one, tout de suite!  The bad bowels stopped.  So I thought he was fine.  Then my sister and I noticed he wasn’t quite himself, took to sleeping in the bathtub, not eating as much.  Then, I took in the sample.  Turns out, he might have had a fever all week.  Two kinds of bacteria or parasites or something icky like that!  I feel like a bad pet owner.  And the antibiotic pills are a nightmare.  He hates them more than you can hate anything, I think.  We’re talking scratches all over the arms all week long.  We deserve it though.

Blog Monetizing

So, I’ve been giving some thought to creating a new blog, a good blog, a professional blog, all for the new year, my new age, my new decade…and monetize it.  My views regarding sales have always been rather negative.  I don’t want to sell things to people who have no interest in them.  No way, no how.  Online though, everything is so passive.  Many sites have ads, and we never notice them.  I mean, you buy a newspaper, and there are ads there.  Doesn’t mean you don’t read the news, enjoy the funnies, and dive into the crossword.  Sometimes ads are helpful.  And if I can choose the ads.  If I believe in the product.  Then, why not?

My Strengths

It’s really hard to make money in Israel.  Ha!  It’s hard to make money anywhere these days.  And I am trying, as always, to get a good sense of my strengths, realistically speaking.  Sure, I was a good pianist, sang wonderfully in choir, and I can write a great press release.  But what do I realistically devote time to?  Writing about myself, my views, things that interest me.  And that kind of journalism/novel writing doesn’t exist on a real “bankable” plane.  My novel is largely autobiographical.  The journalism I have done was all human interest.  The few essays, short stories, etc, that I have completed, and completed well, were spin offs of what I knew.

You write who you are

Is it wrong?  No.  I think it makes sense.  All writers write best when they write what they know.  And the person we know best is ourselves.  It explains common themes and characters in the works of the same author.  It explains a journalistic subdivision (a finance writer doesn’t stop and occasionally write theatre reviews).  We write who we are.

And I love to blog.

So, if you have any advice out there, please bring it on.  I’ve found a ton of articles on how to monetize and tips and blogs on blogging, etc.  But a helping hand to weed out the crud would be wonderful.

Great weekend folks!  Wish me luck with editing the book…or rather…battling the demons…as I now understand this task to be.

76 Days: Crazy ideas for next year

Cruise Ship Art Auction

Am I running away from doing the healthy grownup things that I need like finding a partner, fulfilling my ability and dream to be a published novelist and chef, and building a beautiful safe home?  Or am I fun-loving, smart-minded, creative adventure nut, set on seeing the world, expanding my knowledge, and making a decent buck while I’m at it?  You decide.  Let me know.  Honestly.  Here are things I am seriously considering doing (aka jobs I have/will be/am considering applying for):

1. Cruise ship art auctioneer.  Yup, I’m serious.  Yes, I don’t adore vacationing on a cruise, but selling art, something I know just heaps and heaps about, and getting a salary, and making commission, and getting to visit dozens of new countries…why not?
2. English teacher in China and/or Japan.  We’ve all been there.  Considering this decision.  Well, at least among people I know, we’ve all known people to go down this path.  I’m a bit old for it.  But my qualifications have gone up.  And it’s a better salary than I can find here in Israel.  AND it would be in China or Japan!  Places I’m desperate to visit!  And are expensive to visit.  So…why not get paid to go…?  And get to save up a decent salary while I’m at it… I thought of this today because one of my closest friends is going to China for a year, and he’s made me promise I’m going to visit him.  So, I either shell out for a trip for a couple weeks to a month (if I can spare the time…I’ll be in job searching mode when I get back from the States in a month), or maybe go for 6 months (I hear it’s possible to go for less than a year) and earn something, plus get to see my friend.



3. A Really Goode Job.  What this entails?  Being the media-savvy wine ambassador for Murphy-Good Winery in Sonoma County, CA.  A dream.  It’s a 6-month position, getting paid a lot, and all you do is learn, blog, twitter, and be the excited young highly functioning PR face of this winery.  All I have to do is make a compelling 1-minute video…that gets posted to their site…and people vote on which is their favorite…I have two weeks to do this, if I want to contend.  And really, I have a day to do it, as I’m leaving my good Mac computer here (video editing) in Israel in two days when I go to the States.  But really, what would be better?  It’s a dream.  I love wine.  More than that, I love teaching people about wine, and introducing wine, wine history, wine making, and everything else there is to folks who otherwise wouldn’t give a damn.  It’s exciting stuff.  The opportunity to reach out to millions.  So, what do you say…will you vote for me if I go head and spend all night making this video???  Pretty please?  With a cherry on top?
   

   Sonoma County

Another silly thing I did today was enter one of those travel contests.  It was kind of the most fun I’ve had entering a contest in a while, though, because it involved watching a fun video (vlog) about Paris and London, and then answering questions.  If you win, you get three days in Paris, a 1st class trip on the Eurostar (yup, they’re the sponsors), and three days in London.  Not too shabby.  To see about entering, go here.

The verdict?  Am I crazy?  Am I? If I could only figure out how to be productive, write these novels, get them out, AND travel the world doing these things, I’d be golden.  Someone’s gotta start paying me to blog, I think.  I hope it’s possible.

Have a great weekend, folks!

114 Days: Plain ole exhaustion

I am plain tuckered out.  Was, maybe 8 hours ago, too.  I haven’t worked this hard in a long while.  Sucks that I’m barely making any money, and that in this holiday season, I’m spending more than I’m making, easily.  But it’s nice to have a full schedule.  There’s something refreshing about feeling my body totally exhausted.  From the soles of my feel to the scalp on my head.

Today, I got up at 7:30 am (after less than 5 hours of sleep) in order to get to my psychiatrist at 9:30 am.  For the first time in a long while, he was super attentive, focused, and really seemed to listen to me.  He agreed with me that we’d better switch up my meds, and we considered a few options.  For the second time, by a second psychiatrist, I was offered Lithium.  And for the second time, I refused.  There is such stigma attached to it.  And I don’t want to gain hundreds of pounds.  Lithium screams “bipolar and proud of it” to me, and I just don’t want to go there.  When it was first suggested, nearly a year ago, I did a lot of research…including all the art inspired by Lithium…the Sting song…the Nirvana song…plenty of other stuff.  I wonder if someone as talented and respectable as Sting is, is still on Lithium.  And whether it was the right choice.  Because Lithium seems like I’d have to admit to myself that I’ve somehow lost it.  So, I’m going to start on something called Cymbalta (sp?), and I won’t have time to research tonight, as I’m literally falling asleep as I type.  Good Lord…know what this means?  Time for major, and I mean major withdrawal this week.  Thank you Lexapro, thank you terror, thank you disillusionment…you see where I’m going?  I don’t.  I’m drunk with fatigue.  And starting to jones.

So, after the doc, went to my sisters to help her frantically pack for Italy (I’m meeting her there is just under two weeks), then had a strained lunch with my grandmother where I found myself having to apologize for everything and anything including my mere existence.  And then.  And then.  Wine!

It was so chaotic in the store I was placed in today that the manager asked that I not do any tastings (until perhaps the end), and just represent the winery in the aisles and help people with their choices.  My first thought was bloody hell…I got into this business for the tasting itself…wanting to teach…to converse about an actual product…not be a salesperson in the most direct and annoying fashion.  But you know what?  I did better business today than I did on any other day in the last two weeks.  Why?  When you’re leading a tasting, you’re kind of stuck to your station.  You can walk around, but then the wines aren’t being watched over.  And if you’re helping some people with a tasting, you miss customers walking in behind them and around the store.  Sure, people would have preferred a tasting, I think.  But you know what?  I learned that it’s me, the “expert,” the winery rep, the salesperson, who decides what to sell the customer.  If I sound assured, and I consciously choose what to present them, they will buy it.  More times than not.  Amazing.  Just the power of mere suggestion.  Nothing pushy.  Even helping with other products, other wines, beers, spirits…and they trust you.  It’s scary what an art sales really is.  And kind of disgusting.  Because when you think about it, we’re all prey.  If we’re not selling, we’re being sold to.  All the time.  But hey, today, I was really proud of myself.  I got people to change their minds after they went to the register with bottles they had been convinced to buy.  And I wasn’t the least bit pushy or rude.  How could I be?  I’m me.  Miss American Manners.  In Hellish Tel Aviv.

And then, and then, we’re talking 9 pm, I walked half a mile, got a bus home, went to the pharmacy to get my new meds, and the went to my uncle’s with a chicken and four premium bottles of wine, and I proceeded to cook…for the last three or more hours.  Chicken soup (with carrots, onions, garlic, celery, celeriac, parsley root, and leek…and of course the obligatory bay leaves and allspice) is done…as is the ridiculously complicated quinoa salad that I have become famous for this year.  It takes a ton of chopping and peeling and minute work.  It’s not difficult.  Just time consuming.  Tomorrow the matzah balls, tsimmes, and roast beef will have to find themselves being made somehow or other.  I hope.  Because at 9 am I need to be out the door to my last holiday tasting, all the freaking way on the other side of the city…until 3 pm, when I rush to my uncle’s to finish cooking.  Good Lord!

And now, I’m going to hop in the shower.  Oh how I’ve needed to shower.  For like three days.  Please don’t think me gross.  I’ve had other priorities, for the first time in months.  A “feels good to be dirty” kind of high?  Not really.  But it should be at least somewhat satisfying.  And Thursday!  Thursday!  I’m off to the Ashram in the Desert for 5 full days!

Happy Passover to All!  And Happy Easter (whenever it falls this year…sorry, it’s the first time I have no idea)!

117 Days: My feet hurt like a mother…

Perhaps I should invest in one of these?

‘Scuse the allusion to rude language.  My feet really do hurt.  Badly.  It’s my own stupidity.  I’ve been wearing boots with a relatively high heel to my wine tastings this week.  Why?  Because heels make me feel more important – elegant – feminine – powerful – and some other things I could throw in there.  In heels, especially high heeled boots (and we’re not talking three + inch monstrosities here…more like anything over 1.5 inches, maybe two-ish or a bit more), I feel like I can face the world, and in a good mood, I could even take it over.  I mash my heels into the floor…I’m told I’m a stomper.  I like to hear my steps when I walk.  And basically, when you’re on your feet for several hours on end…these are pretty much the worst shoes to be in.  I dream of sneakers.  But in reality, I wouldn’t ever wear them when I’m leading a wine tasting.  I dress nicely, put my hair up, wear some makeup, some jewelry.  Why?  Because selling is a show.  And wine is a luxurious product.  And I need to be taken seriously.  And a woman in heels who is well put together (we’re not talking prostitute-ish), will be taken more seriously than one wearing flats.  Period.  At least that’s my experience.  And it makes me feel differently about how I look, hence affecting my behavior in a positive way.  The result: my feet hurt like a mother f…..

Anyway, Passover is around the corner, very very very  much so.  So, if you’re Jewish and stocking up on wine, remember me, my aching feet, and buy some wine from the Golan Heights Winery or the Galil Mountain Winery.  Top of the Israeli market.  Big award winners.  I recommend the Yarden Cabernet Sauvingnon 2005, the Yarden Katzrin Chardonnay 2005 (if you can find it…it’s a absolute dream), and the Yarden Gewurztraminer 2008 (de-vine).  Here’s a big Israeli wine blog, with a review of several of these, by the big Israeli wine critic, Daniel Rogov.

And those are my thoughts for the evening.  Did my Passover food shopping this morning.  Saw my doctor for another umpteen prescriptions, ranging from yet another brave attempt at conquering a yeast infection, to a mood stabilizer, to motion sickness medicines for the cruise I’m going on in Italy in a couple weeks (“thanks Mom and Dad,” or perhaps “good grief Mom and Dad,” should these Israeli meds not work and I end up vomiting for a week while at sea…).

Good night and good luck to you all.  And God help me through this week.

122 Days: Sweet. Home. Chicago. Whisk(e)y.

Now I wish I were home. Not really. But this makes me want to be in Chicago.

Binny’s Beverage Depot, arguably the store I made the most fun of in my youth.  For goodness sakes.  Who is Binny?  And a beverage “depot” of all things?  Well, it actually makes sense.  In an American superstore kinda way.  These stores are huge.  And while it makes things more convenient and cheaper for the consumer, I always feel these k-mart-ish monstrosities take away from the real world charm of what wines and beers and spirits really are.  Then again, it is America, here.  The home of the “champagne of beers,” oh Lord our God and God of all ages, save me.   No American beer, besides what we call microbrews stands up to the imports.  And Lord knows I drank my share of MGD in college, oh goodness gracious I did.  Little did I know until years later that this was actually an “upscale” American beer for a college student to be drinking…some good friends at other colleges (perhaps state schools) were happy to point that out.

But, back to Binny’s.  They’re having an event called “World of Whiskies,” where for around $50 you get to taste around 150 whiskies…from around the world…duh.  And OMG.  I would really kill to be there right around now.  AND – this is apprently an annual event held on the night before the Malt Advocate’s WhiskyFest.  For $95:

Your ticket includes Glencairn tasting glass, 1-year subscription to Malt Advocate magazine, event program with tasting notes section, all seminars, gourmet buffet and beverages throughout the evening.

The best and the worst of America.  Of the world.  I so want to be there to taste and learn and experience.  But I don’t want to be in a herd.  At least in Israel, there aren’t enough people to feel like you’re being driven like cattle.  And should I ever become expert enough in any of these related fields, I certainly wouldn’t want to be preaching to masses of folks yearning to suck down inordinate amounts of excellent whiskies.  Oh I’m such the snob.  I have no right to be.  Really, I don’t.  Nobody does.  God, I wish I could “break into” this industry.  I would love to teach people about this stuff.  I want to taste everything and meet the makers and maybe even try to make my own as an experiment and certainly refine my palate as much as possible, because Lord knows (and the Lord does indeed know if a Lord does indeed exist) that I have a fine, fine nose on the front end of my face.  It’s a nose to cast a thousand ships.  I identify herbs and spices in foods like no other I know.  And I am mostly untrained as a greyhound, honest I’m not.  And I’d so like to be.  I’d be proud to auction my nose off the the highest bidder, honest I would…that is if I was confident about its skill.  I’m going to stop now.  I just compared myself to a greyhound.  Next, who knows, I’ll be insuring my nose like Rita Hayworth did her gams.  Good Lord.  Gams?  And what’s with the Lord’s today?  I don’t know.  I forgot my meds, and I drank too much coffee, that’s what.  And I’ve started to write about passion.  Sexual desire.  And its food equivalent.  It’s a good day, for sure.  And now I’m stopping, you fine fine readers, wherever you are.  And if you’re in Chicago – GO!  Go to this thing, and tell me about it, you lucky lucky sons of bitches.

Read my other posts about whisk(e)y:

Canadian Tennessee Scotch – about a fun tasting I did in Tel Aviv

Johnnie.Walker.Blue – says it all, and more, it was a phenomenal tasting in Dublin

155 Days: Big Baby Steps

Such the fraidy cat that I am, I just spent half an hour rehearsing a phone call that lasted no more than five minutes.  But what a step!  And what a series of events!  For starters, I went out last night with an extremely hip group of women.  One gifted writer, one theatrical designer and TV stylist, one genius computer engineer, and me.  The four of us, after a hilarious mishap which found us at an Israeli cross between a pub and sports bar when we had been expecting a suave wine bar with exquisite Italian food, went across town where I found us a real quality wine bar, one of only two that I know.  This one was closer (corner of Nachalat Binyamin and Montifiore), very new, and owned by a friend of a friend, so I was more than glad to give them our business.  It was a wonderful decision.  We shared a bottle of Rioja, which turned out to be very complex, spicy, and really hit the “we want to be in a great and elegant spot” kind of mood.  We also shared a cheese plate, a fundamentally fantastic decision, again, as it had a Chevre, a goat’s Camembert, a gorgeous Gorgonzola, and a hard cow’s cheese presented in dainty slivers whose name I can’t remember now. This wonderful place even gave us four homemade chocolate truffles with our bill.  Nice.  In a country where customer service is a non-existent joke, we were quite happy, indeed.

My depression / melancholy / ennui patch slowly subsiding this week, and still very much on a high of wanting to “get into” the wine/spirits business here in Israel, I chatted with the ladies about some realistic short-term goals I had in mind.  Amongst them is to perhaps get a job at a wine shop, or lead wine tastings, or doing some part-time marketing work for a boutique winery, or some such activity which would allow me to get out of the house some, interact with interesting people, and taste and learn lots about Israeli wines.  As well as earn a buck, I should say, as I’m unemployed or self-employed, or delusionally employed, or goodness knows what.

As I was saying this, the wine bar staff was just pouring our wine and presenting our cheeses, and my friends stopped me…as it seemed the two waitresses were trying to get my attention.  These two charming girls told me that they often do wine tastings and that their manager at this company was looking for more workers, especially with the holiday season approaching (holiday season in Israel comes twice a year, essentially — we have the autumn holidays, the big scary “high holy days” — and then we have the spring holidays which start with Purim in March, continue to Passover in April, and then continue to a bunch of national holidays leading up to Independence Day, which is usually in early May).  They had me take down their contact’s number, said to pass along their names, and that was that.  It also turned out that one of the women I was with, the designer, has a brother who is a wine maker, a true blue degree-carrying expert in setting up vineyards and making the actual wines who has been doing it for a decade or more here in Israel.  Good friends of her brother’s actually started one of my favorite boutique wineries here in Israel, Flam (it’s a gorgeous website, too).  And after I do some good research about what my “wine goals” realistically are for the long run, and do some good research on wine making, wine in Israel, etc, she’ll find a way for me to meet her brother.  Yay!

It was a fortuitous evening to say the least.  Stars coming together to help me.  But, I have to act, too.  This could be it, the way for me to make money without hating myself.  It also really helps that I love this field, and I might be persuaded to even dream so big as to want to make a big contribution.  Why not?  But I have to act.  And act I did.  I made that phone call, they are looking for new people to lead wine tastings and market the wines, and there will be an introductory meeting early next week!  Yes!  It’s a step.  And it may lead to nice part-time work.  And it’s a great company, from what I’m told.  At least the wines are good.  Check the Golan Heights Winery out.

But onto the daily drag.  I have a mountain of laundry so scary, I’m not sure what to do about it.  Wash it would be the logical thing, but I don’t have a dryer, and it would take me more than a week to wash, then hang, wait for the load to dry before doing another one, as the apartment is too small to even hang more laundry than that.  I have to read two manuscripts this week for my writing seminar, and I have to write, and write a lot, because I’ve barely been doing a thing.  So, it’s gotta be about writing and cleaning  and reading this weekend and it has to happen.

Luckily I’ve got some great new tunes to make it all go easier. I’ve heard some of Mika‘s songs over the past many months, but I didn’t connect the dots.  I must have been the last one to hear of him.  I honestly thought the songs might be from Robby Williams (because to me, they have very similar voices).  But in Ireland, my friend had the album Life in Cartoon Motion in her car, and I got to listen to the whole thing.  Impressive, full of energy and light.  Fun, hip, bouncy, quirky, and intelligent.  I highly recommend it to anyone out there who needs a boost.  And to anyone else.  It’s just too damn fun to miss out on.

Enjoy Big Girls – They are Beautiful!

Good weekend, all!