LIVE FROM DENVER

A New Year and a New Perspective

2012-01-07T12:42:00.001-07:00

I guess that is what a new year is all about…gaining and implementing a new perspective. My new outlook is one of opportunity and challenges. I am still at the crossroads I mentioned late last summer but my path is becoming clearer. Perhaps the clarity is simply in response to knocking things systematically off my list. 2010 and 2011 were years filled with the word “NO” being thrown my direction from every aspect of my life. In 2012 I’m not going to settle for “no” anymore. I see a whole world of “YES” and now I just have to find a way to make those affirmations into affirmative actions…..Can I do it? Yes!!

The path unknown

2011-08-10T21:03:00.001-06:00

Riddle for the day: I am at an unusual crossroads in life, and each path has no clearly defined path or answer-completely vacant-how do I chose? Usually one chooses between something and something, I am choosing between unknowns.....

You don’t have to go, you’re my Poetry Man

2011-04-27T21:04:00.000-06:00

It’s funny how life leads us back to the past when we least expect it. I’ve been missing me, and wanting to get back to me for a long time now, and now that I am back I am not so sure this is where I want to be. Am I lost? I am not so sure. Some days I feel as if I am exactly where I should be and others, I am so far away from the person and the place I want to be it breaks my heart.

I picked up my guitar this afternoon to pour my heart out, and it came-it came with abandon. I am willingly holding my wrist out for it to be cut and I am happy about it, such is bliss. There must be something in me that is flawed and scared or maybe I am completely coherent and cognitive, craving experience, quickening my life. Conflicted? To say the least. It’s my own personal dualism. That is what makes it all so tricky. One moment I want it all-decadence, debauchery, lust, risk, the ultimate edge- and the next moment, only purity. Who am I? Who I’ve always been…society just snuck in a little bit.

I am ready to walk freely into my decision, but I am not sure it will be that willingly, without judgment or guilt. I am not sure it will be without challenge, tears and drama. But, I want nothing else, and nothing more at the moment.

So for now, I revisit the bohemian artist dwelling within my soul. She always wants to come out to play when I am conflicted. I wish, with everything in my soul, that I have the strength to live within her or banish her once and for all. The latter will never occur. It’s impossible to let oneself disappear even if it is something that may be the absolute best thing for living and surviving in this harsh, real, financially driven, materialistic world. That world has no place for her-the sensualist, the lover, the beautiful dreamer. And so she suffers. But she willingly and almost joyfully suffers the cut that only cuts the heart.

The Poetry Man:

You make me laugh

Cause your eyes they light the night

They look right through me

You bashful boy

You're hiding something sweet

Please give it to me yeah, to me

Talk to me some more

You don't have to go

You're the Poetry Man

You make things all rhyme

You are a genie

All I ask for is your smile

Each time I rub the lamp

When I am with you

I have a giggling teen-age crush

Then I'm a sultry vamp

Talk to me some more

You don't have to go

You're the Poetry Man

You make things all right

So once again

It's time to say so long

And so recall the cull of life

You're going home now

Home's that place somewhere you go each day

To see your wife

Talk to me some more

You don't have to go

You're the Poetry Man

You make things all rhyme

**Phoebe Snow, 1975

Poetry & Wine

2011-04-08T10:28:00.001-06:00

Temptation

Flipping through the latest Hollywood magazine

Gazing at your glossy celluloid dream

Half a glass of warm red wine

And a lit cigarette

I suppose I could wish you into my life

Find a red candle and a flame to light

Half a glass of warm red wine

And a lit cigarette

A sliver of the moon hanging low in the sky

The acoustic guitar in my room begins to cry

Half a glass of warm red wine

And a lit cigarette

Swaying and slow dancing in the hall

Press me up tight and long against the wall

Half a glass of warm red wine

And a lit cigarette

Kissing until you bruise my lips

Hands wandering down around my hips

Half a glass of warm red wine

And a lit cigarette

The heat of your touch and the palm of my hand

The sweet taste, salty sweat, a delicious man

Half a glass of warm red wine

And a lit cigarette

The initial temptation of skin against skin

Invoking waves of delay in me again

Half a glass of warm red wine

And a lit cigarette

Perfume of last night lingers low in the air

Your fingers run through my tangled hair

Half a glass of warm red wine

And a lit cigarette

We never think twice about etiquette

They don’t have to know what we’ll never forget

Half a glass of warm red wine

And a lit cigarette

The pale light of the dawn warms my skin

Pulling me back from where I’ve been

Half a glass of warm red wine

And a lit cigarette.

***********************************

Sonnet:

The Blood of the Gods

Just one grape is so precious and so rare

That has only lived in ever one place

And a lovely maiden with long red hair

On the lips of a dying man she traced

A wine reserved for Caesars and for Kings

Poets of Rome praised the Falerian

And about it often the chorus sings

The name was buried by historians

The blood of the gods and the blood of man

Long ago forgotten just like this wine

And a myth I will never understand

Covered long ago by the ash of time

From Mt Vesuvius and Mt Vulture

Aglianico is still the poet’s lure

**************************************

How can I become everything to me?

How can I conquer the world

When I haven’t even conquered

My own hometown city yet?

How can I soar to new heights

When I haven’t ever stepped

Out of the wadding pool just yet?

How can I ever love you

When I don’t even know who you are

I haven’t even met you yet?

How can I become everything to me

When I don’t even really know

What that is just yet?

How do I begin to feel

And make it real

After so many years of hiding?

When will I set it right

And give up the fight

And begin living instead of lying?

Say It With Chocolate 2011

2011-02-14T21:15:00.000-07:00

Last Thursday, I had the great pleasure of being a celebrity judge for the 6th Annual “Say it With Chocolate,” Denver’s Best Tasting Competition, to benefit Joan Farley Academy and Third Way Center. I joined an esteemed judging panel including: newscaster Tom Green of KWGN, Ellen Gray of Colorado View Magazine, Lori Midson the Café Society Editor at Westword, newscaster and veteran chocolate judge Tom Mustin of CBS. We had the delicious task of judging three tables filled with some of the best chocolate Denver has to offer. Sounds great in theory, but by the time we were halfway through the second table we all knew we were in for serious chocolate hangovers!

The lavish event took place on the main floor of the Historic Union Station building in LoDo. The vintage room was filled with live music, laughter, families and chocolate. Over a hundred people wandered gleefully from table to table, sipping on hot chocolate, tasting tortes, cupcakes, brownies, cakes, truffles, popcorn, candies, and the best mole in Denver.

Browse the listing below to discover the entrees and the winners. I hope to see you all lined up for this decadent tasting next year.

The Amateur Entrees:

Cakes & Tortes:

Jane Dempsey Brownies-Winner

Candies:

Jane Dempsey Walnut Fudge

Students of Joan Farley Academy Chocolate Teacup filled with Fresh Berries-Winner

Miscellaneous:

Students of Joan Farley Academy Chili with a hint of Chocolate

Cyl Barnosa Chicken Mole a la Arvizu-Winner & Best Overall Entree

The Professional Entrees:

Cakes & Tortes:

The Shoppe Salted Caramel Cupcake

The Shoppe Death by Chocolate Cupcake

The Shoppe Nutella Cupcake

Epicurean Catering Chocolate Linzer torte

Après Dessert Bar Flourless Torte with Pomegranate

Lovely Confections Cake-Pop

McCormick’s Catering Three Layer Chocolate Mousse Cake-Winner

Candies:

Enstrom Candies Almond Toffee-Winner

Robin Chocolates Salt Caramel Lollipop

Truffles:

Truffles in Paradise Caramelized Passion fruit Butterfly Truffle

Truffles in Paradise Heart of Gold Fleur del Sel and Caramel

Truffles in Paradise Bubbly Champagne Truffle

Truffles in Paradise Hawaiian Sunset Truffle

Truffles in Paradise Crimson Black Tea and Blood Orange Truffle

Robin Chocolates Vanilla Spiced Rum Truffle

Robin Chocolates Rose Caramel Truffle

Robin Chocolates Lavender Truffle-Winner and my personal favorite

Cookies & Brownies:

McCormick’s Catering house made Chocolate Brownie with Bananas-Winner

Miscellaneous:

Dip ‘n delights Chocolate Fountain with fruit, pretzels, and cakes,

McCormick’s Catering Red Wine Pot de Cream-Honorable Mention

Too Haute Cowgirls Fistful of Fleur de Sel Popcorn-Winner

Too Haute Cowgirls Dark, Sweet, and Wicked Popcorn

Too Haute Cowgirls Cowgirl Coffee Popcorn

Too Haute Cowgirls Chili Con Chocolate Popcorn

Pumpkin Custard Bread

2010-10-27T16:29:00.002-06:00

Made this today-yummy, healthy!
Kind of a custard, kind of a bread.

1 small can pumpkin,
4 egg yolks,
1/2 C agave and honey blend,
2 t cinnamon (maybe more),
1 t ginger (maybe more),
1/2 t cloves,
1 C raw almond meal,
4 egg whites: beaten to stiff peaks,

Generously butter a 10 inch pie pan,
400'F oven,
Blend top seven ingredients well. Gently fold in egg whites. Pour into pie pan, smooth surface. Bake 25 minutes or until toothpick comes out clean.

Be fearless and passionate about food and life

2010-10-26T22:10:00.001-06:00

Cooking is the ultimate expression of true sensuality, passion, and love. It is the essence of a life well lived. Eating and drinking are among life’s greatest pleasures. Preparing a meal is the beginning.....

A well-prepared, thoughtful meal is a celebration of life and of love. Cooking is the ultimate expression of true sensuality, passion, and love. When it is done well, it is the essence of a life well lived. Eating and drinking are among the greatest pleasures in life. Preparing a meal is the beginning. When we take the time to cook food well, we take the time to eat slowly, taste our food, engage in conversation, experience with one another, and enjoy the moment. Nothing is more primal than the desire for love and connecting with what it means to be human. Sustenance is intrinsically linked to that connection. Emotion is felt in the stomach: sadness, fear, happiness, passion, and bliss. Hunger feels reminiscent of butterflies in the stomach.

Being fearless and adventurous with ingredients and preparations is the key to passionate cooking. Dare to throw away your recipes and ‘paint with food,’ be creative, be bold, be an artist. It’s not about necessarily about training, but paying attention helps. My favorite food is fairly restrained and simple but it is still creative. Not everything needs to be a complicated fusion mess of flavors and textures. Pairing a fresh watercress salad with steamed asparagus, leeks, crumbled bacon, and a couple of over easy, fried eggs sprinkled with tarragon is simple and delicious. Add a crisp, cool glass of Chablis and it is heavenly.

Cooking well is about knowing yourself and knowing your surroundings. Being connected to your food is about being connected to the land; it’s about something real. Don’t be afraid to taste some dirt. Plant some herbs or visit a farm. Know where your food comes from. Cooking well implies opening yourself up to diversity in culture, flavor, texture, scent, and color from the world. Perhaps you are traveling to foreign lands or simply traveling vicariously through the cuisine you prepare. It’s about exploring. Living.

When I am dreaming of France I cook simply, yet beautifully. Every time I braise coq au vin or taste a gorgeous Chinon I am transported. While fantasizing about Italy, I make a frothy cappuccino, sprinkled with cocoa and nibble on a crunchy, handcrafted, pinon nut biscotti or I sip smoky Aglianico.

If I crave Spain, I prepare Paella. I painstakingly select every ingredient from the fragrant saffron threads to the freshest scallops, mussels and clams I can find in my mid-western desert. I play Paco de Lucia in the background and serve my guests cool, floral, Albarino. We dine on my creation, drizzled with Vinegar de Jerez and smoked paprika, garnished with lemon and a bit of ripe, red pepper…and we dream.

Living in the city can be isolated and lonely at times. We are busy. We are stressed. Cooking a meal is a perfect time to reconnect with humanity and our loved ones. It begins when I select the dish or menu. I visit the markets to select the freshest ingredients. And then, I cook, and I cook well.

Gluten Free Delicious Rice Pudding

2010-08-27T21:22:00.001-06:00

Delicious Rice Pudding

27 August, 2010

1 quart unsweetened almond milk

2 tablespoons unsalted butter

¼ cup dark agave

¼ cup honey

1 tablespoon vanilla

1 teaspoon coriander powder

1 teaspoon ginger powder

1 teaspoon cinnamon

pinch sea salt

1 cup white basmati rice

½ cup raisins

½ cup chopped dates

¼ cup chopped pecans

¼ cup walnuts

In a medium sized saucepan blend almond milk, butter, sweetener, and spices over medium heat until bubbly. Add rice and stir well. Bring mixture to slight boil. Lower heat and simmer. Stir often and continue to simmer. Add fruit and nuts, stir well, continue to simmer. Stir frequently as the rice cooks. Cook for around 30 minutes.

Taste and adjust spice or sweetness. Add more almond milk as desired. Cook a few more minutes until the rice is soft but not mushy.

Health benefits of Natural Mineral Hot Springs

2010-07-08T21:28:00.000-06:00

There is nothing that makes me feel better, physically, mentally, or emotionally, than a long soak in searing hot mineral springs. My aches and pains fade away along with my stress and cares. My skin and hair look radiant and vibrant. My spirit becomes more vital. My soul is restored and I feel like myself again.

The art and science of balneology is a practice that is not well known or widely practiced in the United States and other parts of North America. However, the use of hydrotherapy, pelotherapy, thalassotherapy, and balneotherapy is increasing dramatically worldwide.

In fact, in modern Europe and Japan, the medical science of balneology is already an integrated part of allopathic medical practice and preventative medicine. In France and in Japan, “taking of the waters” is covered on the national health care plan. These therapies are extremely popular in Scandinavian countries as well.

Natural hot springs, comprised of geothermally heated groundwater, can be found all over Colorado; a few of my favorites are found atGlenwood Springs, Idaho Springs or Hot Sulfur Springs. There are many natural “hippy dips” along the Colorado and other rivers. These hippy dips are naturally occurring springs along the banks of the river.In some cases, people have painstakingly taken river rocks and build rock wall hot tubs on the banks of the river: hot water captured in the tub and icy cold mountain water swiftly flowing past. It is a true gift to be welcomed into these secret and sacred spaces. I relish my time relaxing and letting the mineral rich water flow into my pores. I make it a practice to visit hot springs at least once a month for my health and for my sanity.

Water from Colorado hot springs appears either slightly yellow-brownish or milky and emits a faint smell of rotten eggs (sulfur dioxide). These waters are laden with sulfur, silica, radium, selenium, boron, magnesium, manganese, lithium, calcium, sodium, potassium, silver, and many other minerals. The minerals in the water have positive therapeutic effects on various skin ailments, pms and menopause, asthma, neuralgia, arteriosclerosis, rheumatism and shoulder, neck and wrist pains; they also have a detoxifying and mucolytic effect.

From: Glenwood Springs Pool website:

Health Benefits of Mineral Hot Springs

2009, Glenwood Springs, CO... People have been “taking the waters” at the natural hot springs that feed the Glenwood Hot Springs for centuries. The Ute Indians were the first to discover the miraculous healing powers of the local mineral waters, calling them “Yampah” meaning “Big Medicine.” These early Colorado residents considered this a sacred place and used the waters to heal their sick and wounded.

In the late 1890’s, the hot springs mineral water was bottled by the Glenwood Hot Springs Company under the name “Yampah.” The beverage was served in the Denver & Rio Grande Railroad dining cars and eating establishments and was distributed by druggists. Hot mineral water from the “drinking” or “cocktail” spring, a stone structure built in 1888, was served up in goblets and still exists for those who can brave the pungent sulfur aroma.

The practice of using natural mineral water for the treatment or cure of disease is known as “balneology”. Soaking in highly concentrated mineral water is thought to have many health benefits such as increasing body temperature thus killing harmful germs and viruses, eliminating toxins, increasing blood flow and circulation, increasing metabolism, and absorption of essential minerals. Many have come to the Glenwood Hot Springs to treat their ailments. The famous gun-slinger, Doc Holliday, who suffered from tuberculosis, came to Glenwood Springs to ease his symptoms. During World War II, the Glenwood Hot Springs Pool was used as a therapeutic tool by physiotherapists to rehabilitate emotionally and physically disabled sailors and marines.

Today, heat from the waters continues to have a relaxing, soothing effect on muscles and the mind. The Yampah Spring flows at 3,500,000 gallons per day at a temperature of 122° F (51°C), one of the hottest in the world, and is cooled to 104°F (40°C) before it is piped in to the Glenwood Hot Springs therapy pool. Many come to the Glenwood Hot Springs to rejuvenate, revitalize and get back to nature. Visitors often feel healthier, happier and renewed. Perhaps it is the fountain of youth?

Glenwood Hot Springs 970-947-2954

· Benefits of Sulfur-Sulfur is a mineral naturally occurring near hot springs and volcanic craters. Sulfur has been used medicinally since ancient times, and it is contained in every cell in your body. It is a component of three different amino acids (the building blocks that make up protein). Approximately 0.25 percent of your total body weight is sulfur. It is most concentrated in keratin, which gives you strong hair, nails, and skin. It is known as "nature's beauty mineral" because your body needs it to manufacture collagen, which keeps your skin elastic, beautiful, and young looking. Sulfur is used primarily to ease the red, itchy rashes of conditions such as eczema and diaper rash. It also helps to protect your body against toxins in the environment. In addition, people with arthritis may find pain relief from taking a soothing bath in hot sulfur springs. Sulfur is shown to lower cholesterol and blood pressure.

· Benefits of Selenium-It is a powerful antioxidant and is crucial to the health and function of the thyroid gland.

· Benefits of Silica-Silica is one of the most important minerals for strong, beautiful, healthy skin, hair, nails, and bones. It is also shown to reduce the likelihood of dementia.

· Benefits of Arsenic - While arsenic in larger doses is toxic in the human body, minute amounts may assist the body with plasma and tissue growth. Foot bathing in mineral waters with a high content of arsenic is used to address fungal conditions of the feet.

· Benefits Boron - Boron builds muscle mass, increases brain activity and strengthens bones.

· Benefits of Magnesium - Magnesium converts blood sugar to energy and promotes healthy skin.

· Benefits of Potassium - Potassium assists in the normalization of heart rhythms, assists in reducing high blood pressure, helps to eliminate body toxins and promotes healthy skin.

· Benefits of Lithium-Lithium is a helpful depression regulator and mood stabilizer.Dosage in mineral water is extremely small.

· Benefits of Sodium - Sodium and natural salts assist with the alleviation of arthritic symptoms, and may stimulate the body's lymphatic system when used in baths.

Definitions:

Hydrotherapy: water therapy for pain, such as cold or hot tub soak

Pelotherapy: natural clay therapy, clay packs and massage

Balneotherapy: mineral water spa treatments including soaking, massage, and movement

Thalassotherapy: Seawater specific therapy

Sources:

(www.hotspringspool.com.)

(http://www.alternativedr.com/sulfur1.htm)

Baby Sister’s Birthday Celebration

2010-07-01T21:57:00.008-06:00

Today is a beautiful, hot summer day. And tonight is going to be an even hotter summer night. My little sister is having an important milestone birthday. I am throwing a surprise party for her. She will never suspect a thing...

Recently, she fell in love with an incredible, generous, gorgeous man. He is charming, thoughtful, articulate, and he loves her for who she is and she loves him in the same way. I’ve never seen her so happy and so at ease with another person. They swept each other off their feet. They have a ‘once-in-a-lifetime’ connection. I couldn't be happier for her!

I’ve enlisted his help with the party.

I’m a bit older than her, so I don’t hang out with her and her friends out on the town that often. I know a few of her favorites and enlisted her Facebook social network to come up with the guest list. I have 20 very special people on the list, siblings and parents included. I’ve booked the rooftop terrace at Tamayo Restaurant on Larimer Square. I’ve never been to Tamayo, so I am looking forward to the experience.

Tamayo is a hot spot on Larimer Square owned by famed Richard Sandoval. The creative concept is modern Mexican with a fusion twist. I pre-ordered several servings of ten different appetizers like tangy mahi ceviche, chicken flautas, smoky beef tacos, salmon carpaccio and mole. I am sure everyone will be satiated. We will be toasting the birthday girl with Gruet blanc de noirs methode champenoise from Albuquerque, New Mexico. Gruet is an amazing little bubbly, created by a sibling team from the Champagne region of France. It was recently featured in the Food & Wine section of the New York Times.

Topping off the dinner, I’ve selected individual, hand crafted, petit fours from Gateaux to be adorned with the correct number of birthday candles. This is my favorite bakery in the city and the tiny cakes are the best of the best of what they offer....what could be better than trying each flavor instead of just one?

Hopefully little sister will get her wish!

Aspen Food & Wine Festival 2010

2010-06-20T20:26:00.007-06:00

The flip side of the snob factor:

Aspen Food & Wine is the ultimate who’s who of the wine and culinary world with a splash of travel lust thrown in. Having been before, and never one to be star struck, I thought it would be just another walk in the park for me. Well, it was a wild walk.

The drive over the very winding and narrow Independence Pass is always beautiful and always a bit nerve wracking. Wild flowers were blooming everywhere and the waterfalls were running fast. Pat, my co-worker, tends to drive fast and aggressively. She’s a New Yorker so she talks with her hands. She talks a lot, so that means her hands aren’t necessarily on the wheel. I am never an easy passenger but by the time we got over the pass I was a nervous wreck and ready for a glass of wine. I really don’t enjoy bumper-to-bumper mountain traffic, no matter how beautiful the sights are. But, this is Aspen Food & Wine. There was a steady stream of cars flowing into the Aspen valley and the town was alive with people scurrying from tent to restaurant and back again.

Walking through the streets of Aspen on this beautiful June day, I could feel the energy of excitement swirling around me. It was in some strange way, very calming. Pat had some friends she was meeting for lunch. She was on the hunt for an entrance pass and they had a lead. I really didn’t care one way or another. I certainly didn’t expect a pass. I was just enjoying watching the people. Many of the people I know and work with in the wine business were mulling around Aspen so I had plenty of people to talk to.

As we walked to the Ute Grill to meet Pat’s friends for lunch we passed the actress Allison Janney and a group of lovely women leaving Gucci. The crowd we were meeting was finishing lunch when we arrived. I sipped on a cool Spanish rosé as Pat and her friend Aubrey strategized finding her a pass. She was in.

I ran into my old friend, Karen Clark, the very successful owner of Wine Connections and my suppliers from Majestic Fine Wines, Ashley Rowe and Jeff Redden near the private entrance to the show. Jeff slipped a pass around my next and told me to go have fun. I was quite surprised by his unexpected gesture. As I was walking in Rick Bayless was walking out. I grabbed a glass and went to work. First stop: Champagne Nicolas Feuillatte. Some notable moments included tasting Robert Sinskey wines with Robert Sinskey, sips of Château d’Issan & Château Lagrange, and an unusual Bodegas Valdemar Tempranillo Blanco…

There were gorgeous bowls of strawberries and boards of grapes and cheese propped up around the tasting tables. Chocolove, a local favorite, had one of the longest lines in the tent. I tried a slice of aromatic fig, walnut and hazelnut cake from The Cheese Importers. Blackberry Farms, out of Tennessee, laid out delicious cured meats and various handcrafted cheeses, but the star of their show was a little BLT slider made with deep-fried bacon. I am not sure it is necessary to deep fry bacon but it was truly delicious.

Giada deLaurentiis captivated a crowd as she was speaking in the courtyard. The petite beauty was surrounded by mostly men, and her sparkling smile was entrancing them. I am positive they have no idea what she said, and I am positive they don’t care...

Wine Maker of the Year, Charles Smith, was pouring his wines and chatting up a very different, very attentive crowd in the east pavilion of the big tent. His smoky syrah and lovely blends have always had a special place in my heart and my palate. It is always fantastic to watch the man at work. Have you ever seen vintage clips of John Belushi as Joe Cocker on Saturday Night Live? That’s Charles Smith.

Marnie Old, sommelier du jour and best selling author, relaxed in a chair, under an umbrella, under the Colorado Sunshine.

The Wines of Spain had their own festive tent and the Trade Commission was represented by a beautiful Basque man…what is it about the Basque, this is the second, very exceptional Basque man I have met in recent months. Italian wine expert, Joe Bastianich, was working his way through the representation of Spanish Wines.

My time in side was brief, but it was full of wonderful tastes, splendid sights, and a fantastic opportunity to see everyone in this crazy business under one tent, having fun, working together, and laughing.

Our last stop before returning to Denver was the Little Nell. Pat decided she needed a cup of strong, black tea and a little snack of sweat breads before making the long drive back to Denver. We lounged on the patio watching the sun dipping low in the sky. I sipped on Pellegrino with a sprig of rosemary, still satiated from the festival. Wine legend Richard Betts was holding court by the pool.

The Snob Factor

2010-06-16T10:05:00.001-06:00

A few nights ago I was having a simple dinner with my dad and I offered him a glass of Pinot Noir that I had left over from showing it to customers earlier in the day. The bottle was almost empty and the scant glass went down pretty fast. I had a little Chianti left too, so we finished the meal with that. He made the comment that the second wine was fine but he really liked the first wine because it was silky and easier to drink. Good assumption, dad! He did comment that he may have liked the Chianti better if he had tasted it first.

My dad is the classic example of his generation’s Everyman…a hard working Joe with a taste for the good life. He doesn’t really know anything about wine but he knows what he likes and in this case he liked the $50 Pinot Noir rather than the $7 Chianti. To answer the eternal question…yes, you can taste the difference. He may not have known why he liked the higher priced, higher quality wine, but he did. I could have gone into a lengthy monologue about the differences between the two wines, but I just let him enjoy his discovery.

My dad has a friend whose wife loves “pink Chablis” and it’s all she drinks, everyday. Is it my place as a wine professional to correct her, to tell her she is wrong and that Chablis comes only from Burgundy, France, and that what she drinks is a cheap imitation? No, of course not. I just ask her, “What do you like about it?” I give her the respect to enjoy what she is drinking.

Like what you know, and know what you like…is my favorite comment about wine. Yes, it is good to take a risk now and then, try new things, and experience the world of wine, but it is just fine to stick with what you enjoy. I enjoy trying new wines all the time. Not everyone feels that way.

Staring down a 100 bottle wine list in a restaurant can be daunting for anyone. Just what is Albarino or Carmenere, and why should I try it? Will is go with my dinner? Is it just a weird wine that the geeky wine director picked for fun? A well-written list with tasting notes and wine and food pairing hints makes selecting a wine much easier for most of us. Unfortunately, few wine directors take the time to write a list like that. And, most customers pretend they know more than they do about wine because nobody wants to appear stupid in front of their friends, the other guests, or the wait staff. These people often miss out on the pleasures of a really beautiful, be it obscure, bottle of wine.

People should take a moment to remember that they are in great company with the majority of Americans. Few people, wait staff included, know that much about wine. It has simply not been a part of our culture to learn about wine and to consume wine regularly. For the most part, we don’t grow up tasting watered down wine with Sunday dinner with our families. That is changing in many pockets of society, but I doubt that wine in America will ever reach the exalted levels it finds in centuries old cultures like Italy, Spain, or France. I wonder, do people even have Sunday dinner with their families anymore?

There are some elitist type, wine and restaurant industry people who fiercely hold onto the idea that wine is strictly a luxury item, which tends to alienate the very people who support them. These are the people who talk down to their guests or clientele. These are the people who write lofty and irrelevant wine articles and blogs that only other industry people can understand. These are the people that treat wine like it is really something special, reserved only for those individuals willing to pay for the status of claiming to have a cellar full of collectible vintages they will never enjoy because they let them go too long. Wine should never be a platform for demeaning people.

Don’t get me wrong, I think wine is special…so special that I have devoted my life to devouring every word I can read on the subject. I spend my days tasting wines and my nights dreaming about my next wine experience. I plan my life around wine and spend my vacations visiting vineyards and exploring restaurants for their wine and food pairing adventures. Nevertheless, my beloved wine is simply sauce, created to accompany food, to enhance the flavor and pleasurability of the dining experience. It shouldn’t matter if you are eating your favorite Thursday night staple of a quick pasta dish or dining in an elegant restaurant. There is a perfect wine to fit the bill.

Like what you know, and know what you like.

Wine tasting at the Lobby

2010-05-19T22:58:00.000-06:00

Last night I attended the first wine and food-pairing event at The Lobby, An Inspired American Grille. The Lobby is a fun little restaurant bar located in the historic Paris Hotel. The gorgeous Victorian building was first established in 1891 and completely renovated in the late 1990’s maintaining the flavor and ambience of the original elegant structure. The Paris is now primarily private residences and the former hotel lobby houses The Lobby. Current owners maintained the lovely hardwood details and have exposed brick to give the room a vintage feel. There is a beautiful and spacious patio located in the courtyard hidden behind a brick wall and shaded by ancient trees. The courtyard is scattered with fragrant flowers and an elegant fountain.

The cuisine surprised me as much as the atmosphere. The first pairing was a steely mineraly crisp sauvignon blanc from South Africa that paired with a pungent prosciutto wrapped prawn. Although the wine pour was scant, the pairing played well on my taste buds. This was followed with a delicious sun dried tomato, goat cheese and chicken pinwheel drizzled with buffalo beurre blanc in a difficult pairing with an aromatic torrontes from Argentina. During this course, the patio filled up with Denver’s beautiful people. The women were decked out and sitting together. Yet the men, who showed up in flip flops or athletic shoes, were congregating separately at their own tables…typical of Denver. The third, and best pairing was a smoky tempranillo from Spain with a slice of seared tuna dressed with mint and cherry coulis. The last pairing of an Argentinean malbec and a seared rib eye doused with a tangy sauce, although very good, left me wanting to revisit the third.

The skies quickly turned dark. Lightening cracked and as it began to pour down rain the tasting wrapped up. The party scrambled indoors where the wine continued to flow. It was a fun night and everyone had a good time. The Lobby will be hosting wine and food pairing events on the third Tuesday of each month through the summer. Check it out for a splash of interesting wine and a taste of delicious cuisine in a fantastic hidden little corner of Denver.

Business Ethics Final Exam Question 3/Answer...

2010-05-15T23:18:00.000-06:00

What do you see as the most significant element of the feminist movement that is concerning the development of the global economy over the past number of years? How does this movement reflect on doing business at the international level, and why? You may wish to draw on the analysis of Simone de Beauvoir, and her notions of the other in your reply.
The greatest contributing factor of the feminist movement to the global economy has been the rapid increase of the labor pool, and a cheaper labor in general. At the beginning of the last century, only 1% of workers worldwide were female. Between the 1970’s and 2000, that number rose to about 45%. In 2010, 49.83% of all workers in the United States are female and 50% of all workers worldwide are female. With the great increase of viable workers, most areas of commerce exponentially grew. Fewer men needed to work in agriculture, education, service, and sales, which meant more men could work in manufacturing and manufacturing could experience significant growth. Now, in nearly every field, there are basically equal numbers of each gender employed. There are a few industries such as heavy construction and manufacturing that experience vast occupational segregation and imbalance, but for the most part, things are divided fairly equally.
Feminism has not ushered in equality throughout the majority of the world. Employers worldwide, the United States included, still continue to exploit and subjugate women. In 99% of all fields, women earn less money for doing exactly the same job. Statistics vary, but on average the American female worker earns between 69% and 73% of what a male worker earns according to the US Census. My favorite way to illustrate this point is follows: If a female student and a male student take exactly the same multiple choice exam and they both answer every question correctly, the male would receive a grade of 100% and the female would receive a grade of 69-73%. He would get an A+ and She would get a D+ or a C- at best. Is that fair? No, of course it is not, but it happens every day, all over the world, in business.
The United Nations Human Development Report 2004 shows that in rural areas, women work 20% more than men (102 minutes a day) and in urban areas women work 5% more than men (20 minutes a day). These statistics do not necessarily reflect the often-lopsided gender division of domestic duties such as child rearing, cleaning, shopping, and other domestic duties such as personal accounting and administration. Women in general and in the work force experience significantly higher levels of exploitation, oppression, harassment, violence, violation, retaliation, are responsible for fewer decisions, and earn much less than their male counter parts. In the United States women experience the glass ceiling 84% more than men do. Only 16% of all executives in the United States are women. Strangely, the market fails to consider that women make nearly 70% of all private purchases made in the United States, including automobiles and technology.
On a global economic/business level, industry and business greatly benefit by having women in the work force. Not only do women work more, work harder, do more menial jobs, but also on a whole they are paid much less, which inevitably increases the bottom line profit margin for businesses across the globe. The most disturbing aspect of this analysis is that women put up with unequal pay and oppressive treatment in the guise of “making forward progress.” To quote a long standing advertisement slogan, “You’ve come a long way baby!” It is disgusting. Currently, women are just as much to blame as the businesses and men who oppress them. It is time for women to put a stop to this unfair treatment and continued oppression at the hands of men, other women, and an unbalanced society.
Feminism has lead to an interesting mix of liberation and continued oppression of women. In most places in the world, women are free to work and gain an education, and in many cases they have no choice in the matter. Yet, feminism also set women up for even more oppression, harassment, violence, and frustration through that employment and education. I am not saying that these conditions did not exist before feminism, because, of course they have always existed. This second-class citizenship for women has existed since men decided to dominate women and swing society from matriarchal to patriarchal systems of governance and control. Simone de Beauvoir illustrated this very well in her book, The Second Sex. She discussed the oppression of women in great detail. She argued that men chose to dominate women for the specific purpose of creating a patriarchal society, and their method was to create the myth of woman as the emotional, hormonal, incapable, unintelligent, weaker sex: a woman couldn’t be understood by a man so it is better to dismiss her and control her than to deal with her. This tactic worked quite well and it continues to work in nearly every society in the world.
It is amazing to think that just 150 years ago, most women were not even considered citizens or people for that matter. In many places in the world they still are not. I guess we should be happy at how far women have come, but I for one, am not. Yes, I am thankful for my education and for my employment, however unequal my work and pay are to my male counter parts. But, I think it is a disgrace to the United States, to men, to women, and to all humanity, that in 2010, in America, women are still unequal, still fighting an uphill and thankless battle for gender equality. The Scandinavian countries including Iceland have the best record for gender equality and they also top the lists for education, happiness, and for quality of living standards. These countries demand equality by enforced laws and the citizens happily embrace equality as the only logical political and economic system.*
* Norwegian gender equality policies attract attention partly because of Norway’s relatively high birth rate (top five in Europe). Having a strong female professional participation and top score on gender equality while still maintaining birth rates is made possible much thanks to the legislation in Norway:
• All big companies must have 40% representation of both genders in their board.
• The Gender Equality Act prohibits all discrimination on grounds of gender.
• Parents are entitled to one year leave after birth, and the parents can divide this between them as they wish. Six weeks are reserved for the father.
• Government ensures full day care coverage
An employee with small children has the right to flexible working hours, regardless of gender.
Norway: - Gender Equality is Smart Politics
http://www.norwayun.org/NorwayandUN/Selected_Topics/Gender_Equality/030209_CSWAHintro/

Cauchon, Dennis. Women Gain and Men Lose Jobs,
http://www.usatoday.com/news/nation/2009-09-02-womenwork_N.htm

www.ilo.org (International Labor Organization)

Ten Surprising Statistics About Women in the Workplace, Feb 15, 2010
http://collegetimes.us/10-surprising-statistics-on-women-in-the-workplace/

The United Nations Human Development Report 2004
http://hdr.undp.org/en/media/hdr04_complete.pdf

The Global Gender Gap Report 2009
http://www.weforum.org/en/Communities/Women

Business Ethics Final Exam Question 1/Answer...

2010-05-09T23:09:00.001-06:00

1. Some may assume that the values of Democracy are consistent with the values of free-market Capitalism. Others would deny such relevance. Armatya Sen provides a compelling argument for the universal appeal to Democracy, and claims that economic growth works best when melded with democratic principles. The question is, is Democracy a necessary condition for there to be economic growth, or is rather merely sufficient?

I do not believe that Democracy is a necessary condition for there to be economic growth. It may seem as though Democracy is consistent with free market Capitalism, but it isn’t necessarily so. While, from the western point of view, Democracy may seem like a universal value, it is not now, nor has it ever been valued universally.
The obvious case in point is China. The Communist Party of China wields vast and strict control over all areas of life in China including religion, communication, entertainment, education, labor, and politics, however they have relinquished small amounts of control over economy, industry and agriculture. China began moving toward economic liberation in the 1970’s under the unofficial rule of Deng Xiaopeng after the death of Chairman Mao in 1976. Deng Xiaopeng astutely moved the Soviet style planned economy into a more functional mixed economy under the one party rule. This system is termed Market Socialism. The transition first occurred in Special Economic Zones set up to experiment with pseudo-private ownership of agriculture to estimate if there were increases in productivity. The increase was dramatic enough for the government to extend the idea of pseudo-private property ownership to manufacturing as well. Although there is privatized industry, it is strongly controlled and regulated by the single party government.
The result of this economic liberation is that China has become the fastest growing major economy. China is the largest exporter and the second largest importer of goods. China’s economy has averaged 10% growth annually since 1981. The poverty rate in China has moved from 53% in 1981 to just 8% in 2001, which is extraordinary considering the population is estimated to be around 1,338,613,000. The standard of living is lower than that in the United States. The current poverty rate in the United States falls between 13 and 17%. According to the World Bank website, China is the third largest economy behind the United States and Japan. The Gross Domestic Product of China is slated to surpass that of the United States by 2027. In January of this year, China co-founded the Association of South East Asia or the Asean 6 Free Trade Zone, comprised of six countries and over 2 billion people. It is the largest free trade zone in the world.
The United States established their “economic engagement” policy toward China in 2000. This policy allows for trade with an otherwise closed country. When the United States granted China basic trading rights, it was with the hope that China would gradually lean toward democracy as a result of the influx of international (US) money and western cultural influence. The Chinese government relaxed travel restrictions both in and out of China. The Chinese became aware of the outside world and the Communist Party of China could only censor the inflowing information and news so much. Ten years later, the hope of democracy in China has not been realized, to the disappointment of the United States and most of the western world. This is largely in part to Chinese Nationalism, which is greatly misunderstood and underestimated. That, coupled with the rapid industrialization of industry and the enormous decrease in poverty, has only strengthened Nationalism. Communism is stronger than ever in China, and with the general increase in the quality of life, there is less and less resistance toward the communist government. China has become a major economic superpower without Democracy; therefore Democracy is not a necessary condition for economic growth.

Shirk, Susan. China, Fragile Superpower, Oxford University Press, New York, 2007
Spence, Jonathan, The Search for Modern China, Norton & Company, New York, 1999
https://www.cia.gov/library/publications/the-world-factbook/geos/ch.html/China

San Francisco in the Morning

2010-05-05T22:33:00.002-06:00

Morning is quiet downtown. There are only a handful of tourists wandering about and the occasional native scurrying to work. I am sitting outside the “Il Café” at Union Square with my steaming coffee, watching. It is brisk and damp. The square is filling with artists and their easels peddling their wares, a lifetime of their labours, to hopeful buyers seeking an alternative to the trinkets found in tacky souvenir shops scattered across the city.

It is a life long tradition for me to take a little piece of art home from where ever I travel, so, I feel particularly lucky today as I watch the artists unpacking their volumes of work.
Paintings, drawings and photos are carefully displayed showcasing their best features and carefully concealing the reality. Prices are rarely high and never on display. Mostly, there are the typical sketch painting street scenes in duplicate and European city photography intermingled with fantasy done in acrylics or pastels, colorful landscapes, and harsh abstracts. I generally gravitate toward the street scenes representative of the city scenes of my travels, but today I am drawn to a piece of fantasy. Not usually my style. This piece is vibrant and strangely comforting. It is a smattering of flowers on the surface of a pond cut at a cross section. The scene reveals a book resting in the sand at the bottom of the water. Streams of light and flowers flow upward from the book, like knowledge or wisdom. Quite an interesting concept. Art fascinates and provokes.

In a city like San Francisco, the people often become works of art glazed in fashion embellished with monochromatic accessories. An older woman in an orange Capri length track suit, matching sun visor, sandals, and bag, trimmed with a salmon colored silk scarf, floats past me, coffee in hand and newspaper tucked under her arm. Blue and white nautical stripes appear on men, women, and children, jazzed up with splashes of vibrant red. Dark crisp suits and glossy polished shoes on a cool Saturday morning prove that elegance transcends even on the weekend, in the city. Ladies, young and old, are teetering on sky-high heels, patterned tights, swathed in scanty shirtdresses or mini skirts. Confections of jewels and encrusted glitter dripping from their subdued attire are starkly contrasting with the scrubbed clean, freckled and blond, natural types in faded levis and skin tight tee shirts that show off their taut forms.

San Francisco doesn’t seem like a city for lovers but more for faded companionship. The coolness and indifference lingering in the air extinguishes the passion and lusty sensuality found in Rome and the romance exuding in Paris. Yet, there are tinges of deep seeded intellectualism similar to that of New York City but San Francisco lacks the pretentious nature. This is a town that is for sale. The city is a chameleon that blends to meet your needs and wants. Truly cosmopolitan in that everyone can find a place to feel at home or completely alone. It’s a sentiment that is left completely up to the level in which you let yourself mesh with the vast diversity. Ultimately, San Francisco is like a beautiful watercolor painting caught in a sudden rain.

If I were moving to Paris

2010-03-17T22:35:00.001-06:00

I am moving into a tiny apartment from a slightly larger house. I am having a difficult time thinning out my possessions, clutter, and stacks of old papers. Yesterday, I nearly had a petite anxiety attack. Then, after hours of sorting, I had a thought, and it made me ‘get real’ about my situation. “If I were moving to Paris on Saturday, instead of just moving across town, what would I be taking with me?” I also received a nice little piece of advice for clearing out the clutter: “Would you buy it today?” If not, toss or donate it immediately.

That left me stunned for a few moments and with a new plan of attacking this daunting task of packing up my life and moving it forward. That is really what this is all about. Moving my life forward, from a tedious, dramatic, tumultuous, difficult, past few years toward a brighter, simpler, and quieter present and future. Leaving the past behind can be difficult because of the memories, both good and bad, that are attached to the things and the people who are left behind.

I have a few main areas of excessive accumulation…books, music and movies, papers, wine, clothes, and kitchen stuff. I also have more furniture than I may need.
Let me start with the furniture. I have some new pieces but mostly old, inherited or found pieces make up my collection. I have my two beautiful Borgese mirrored dressers. I have my antique writing desk and chair, a birthday gift from my mother. I have my over-stuffed chair and my antique loveseat. I have my new Japanese inspired armoire ( I traded a box of great wine for it!). I use my two black cabinets as a desk and tuck my file cabinet underneath. I have a French bistro set and my old, kitchen table with two rickety chairs I found. I have a black coffee table my friend Rick gave me but I painted it black, and three other little end tables. I have my dad’s old Navy chest filled with blankets. And then I have a baker’s rack and a butler both given to me by old acquaintances. I have several, wooden, folding bookracks….

That leads me to my books. I have hundreds of books. I have been avidly collecting books since I was a teen. Many are special, but many are simply out dated for who I am today. This is the area, more than any other, where I need to be brutally honest with myself. Books are heavy, and they take up a lot of space. I have way too many books. Can I part with the past? It was always my dream to have a library wall of interesting titles. I can still thin them out. Perhaps, I can keep one or two by category—past interests, and then keep the books pertaining to my current interests. That might not be a bad idea. Think about that for a few hours.

I thinned out my music and my movies and finally put each cd or dvd in a book, getting rid of all those bulky jewel cases. I now have four books of cd’s and three books of dvd’s. Not so bad. I’d actually like to get rid of some of that music. I rarely listen to most of it any more and with I Tunes, I can just get the songs I want. Did I mention that I still have my record collection-1000 albums and a tiny record player? I love them, but they are in my mother’s garage….

Clothes: what can I say? I have way too many clothes and the funny thing is, last summer I went through my clothes and reduced my wardrobe by half! Most of my clothes are business or business casual clothes, which for the last four years, I haven’t had the occasion to wear. With my current job, these clothes are finally out of the closet. But, why do I need six crisp white shirts and six crisp black shirts? I have five pairs of black, side-zip pants…but, not one is the perfect fit. I may just have to invest in a great tailor. I have countless tee shirts. I have weeded out the concert tee-shirts (former career) and gone to strictly solid coloured, ¾ sleeve, boat neck or scoop neck: mostly
black. I love skirts and dresses and I have a good collection that I wear. I have eight pairs of jeans. All fit well and look good. Two pairs of dark, two pairs of slightly faded, one white, one Diesel, one black skinny and one blue skinny. I have an excessive amount of coats…and shoes. I don’t even want to think about my coats and shoes!

My kitchen. I have lovely Le Cruset pans and a set of Farberware saucepans. I have cookie sheets, pie pans, and cake pans….I do bake on occasion. I have every utensil a girl should have. I have the appropriate dishes and glasses, silverware, and glass storage containers. What has to go is all the crazy Tupperware….ok, I have to stop thinking about it…it’s a bit overwhelming and it makes me want to drink more wine…I have become the occasional and temporary alcoholic…(stress related).

Shutting out the world for an hour..Part Two

2010-03-13T21:42:00.000-07:00

I found her in a little lot near the end of a day driving around with my dad, looking at car after car. Beautiful, cobalt blue, pretty little racing stripes, clean as a whistle, and oh so sexy. She is the exact car I’d been wanting for eight, long years. Finally, with my other car in a totaled mess, now was the time for me to take the plunge and buy my first car payment car. It took four days, but I was finally approved and got to take her home with me on a Monday afternoon. She was perfect.

Friday evening I drove up the mountain to Idaho Springs to celebrate my nephew’s fourth birthday. My friend and I met my brother and his friend in town for a cocktail at a seedy little bar my brother recommended. He cleverly weaseled my keys away from me and announced he would be driving my car to his house, up the canyon…I protested, but realized, he’d do it anyway and I may as well take the path of least resistance. History warned me against fighting him off. If he was going to drive my car, I was going to ride with him…no, I didn’t trust him. Never have….history is telling. My intuition that moment was right. He took off up the winding and icy road toward his house, shifting roughly and hauling ass. I was terrified and asked him to slow it down. He was passing cars and taking the sharpest curves at 70 to 80 miles per hour. He screeched at me to relax, claiming that the car was made to be driven hard like that. As he pulled into his snow packed drive, I cringed. Parked on the other side were my uncle Dennis’ Jeep and my dad’s truck. My brother pulled up hard on the parking brake to spin the car around and as he did it glided smoothly, rear end first, directly into the Jeep. He wrecked my car, of course he did. I was furious! He got out of my car, smiling that sheepish smile and laughing. He said he would take care of it and said he was sorry.
I couldn’t help being angry and sorry is not a simple band-aid.

I went into the house visibly upset and my mom, dad, Dennis, and my brother’s wife all asked what was wrong. I told them, and then Josh came in…he got very angry that I was still angry and asked me to come outside and talk to him. We walked to his entry way and he snapped, screaming at me, and then he physically picked me up and threw me out his door. I was screaming and fighting him off. I was terrified of him; for my safety. I made my way past him and back into the house where everyone else was standing in awe. My brother followed, spewing his venomous anger at me, ranting about things that happened 25 years ago….and not even getting the details correct. He belittled me, humiliated me, physically and verbally abused me, until finally, he said if I didn’t leave he’d call the cops on me. I kept my cool throughout the entire event and invited him to call the cops. Then I went upstairs to apologize to his kids, and his friend’s kids. I apologized to everyone else for the fact that my nephew’s birthday was ruined. I tried to leave. He followed me to my car, prying the door open, and continued to scream at me. At the end of his rant, he evicted me from my home, which I rented from him…typical, and expected.

Within days I discovered that my grandmother was dying of cancer, which was completely unexpected. She was always vibrant, stubborn, strong, and feisty. How could this be happening? I was taken completely off guard. My dad was shattered. The next day we realized that she was much worse off than expected. We left the next morning for a long drive from Denver to McGregor, Iowa. We hit the worst possible weather conditions but we finally made it. We each got a few precious moments with her and made our peace. That night she fell asleep and she never regained consciousness. She died a few days later. I am still in shock by the surrealness of it all.

And now, just a few short weaks later, I am packing up my life to move. Not my choice, and terrible timing. It is amazing how much stuff I have to sort out, thin out, and pack up. I am looking toward the future and I am looking forward to living somewhere new and fresh. I need a clean break and a fresh start. I need a new perspective. I need to let the drama of the past few months slip away. I need to cultivate my secret garden, my own life, my own home, and learn to be myself again. I feel somehow lost, as if I have forgotten who I am and what is important to the true me. I will discover those important things over the next few months, living on my own, with my dog and my cat, in peace and in quite. Solitude.

Shutting out the world for an hour..Part One

2010-03-01T20:40:00.000-07:00

Sometimes it takes everything I have to make it through the day. The last two months have been particularly challenging for me. I finished the bulk of college in December and am only taking two classes online this semester. Business Ethics and Entrepreneurship. Both are interesting but I am having difficulty finding the time and inspiration to do the work involved. Each class requires a half an hour on line each day at minimum. There are texts to read and papers to write. It doesn’t sound like a lot until it is combined with the rest of my schedule.

Knowing I would be graduating in May, I began looking for a job in November. I figured that in this recession and in my luxury goods field, that it would take me months to even get an interview. Well, I had six companies interested in the first week of my search. I was flattered and surprised. I quickly settled on three companies and began the in-depth interview process with each. Each company made me an offer. I carefully selected the best company for my current circumstances. A woman with whom I had wanted to work with for a long time recruited me. She gave me the difficult Boulder territory and I started with them on January 4th. That same day, she told me she was retiring at the end of the month. She knew it when she hired me but really wanted me on the team anyway. I was secretly devastated and may not have taken the job had I known. I wondered if I made a mistake. To top it off, the company had not found her replacement. To further complicate matters, the man I was replacing was promoted to DM in July so the territory was largely ignored for six months. This man was to take on the responsibilities of the woman who was leaving, train me, and do his own job. Poor guy. The downside is that my training was lack luster. I was hoping I had not been set up for failure.

In my fourth week of employment, I was required to give a “State of my territory” presentation to a panel comprised of the VP’s and CEO’s of my company. Each member of my six-man team were required to present. My presentation had nothing to do with me…as I was reporting on the previous year. (It had everything to do with me and how I would repair the broken territory.) The DM, who was responsible for that territory, did very little to assist me in the creation of the presentation. I actually had to call on the woman who hired me to help me find the information I needed. This was a source of extreme tension between the DM and myself. He basically dumped his failures in my lap. In the end, the presentation was a success, the panel was compassionate but firm, and I was able to convince them that I will do everything in my power to turn the territory around. I realized through my research that the territory is in much worse shape than had been revealed to me. Great.

I was having dinner in front of the tv after a very long day at the end of January when I heard the loudest crash and then screaming coming from the street outside my house. My roommate ran out and I followed, cell phone in hand. What I saw in the street shocked and amazed me. My Ford Explorer was attached to a Lincoln towncar by the grill and it had been pushed fifty feet down the block into yet another car. The driver of the towncar was desperately trying to free his car. People were in the street and my roommate was pounding on the driver’s side window trying to get the man to stop. He finally stopped and then he took off running. My roommate chased him down and the man along with his passenger and brother were all arrested. He got a DUI among the other charges. He had just been released from jail two days prior with yet another DUI.
The fire department and nine cops showed up. They were amazed at the sight of the wreckage. The man had wrecked into my roommates car, my car, and then used my car to wreck into yet another car. All of the cars were totaled.

This boded particularly well for me as I am required to drive to Boulder everyday for work carrying boxes of wine. Because of this requirement, I had just added full coverage insurance to my car when I accepted my new job. In fact, I just paid the bill a few days before the accident….

To my horror, the insurance company informed me that they had no record of the upgrade but had processed my ‘early payment.’ I had the bill in my hand and they said the burden of proof was on me. I am not in the habit of recording my telephone conversations so, obviously, I had no proof, and no full coverage. My car was a total loss unless I could track down the insurance for the towncar. Thankfully, the loser had a cheap policy and I would be getting some money, very little, but at least I got something.

As it goes, I am required to have a car for my new job. I drive, on average, 80 miles a day. I don’t really like driving and don’t really like cars but I have always wanted a Mini Cooper. My dad took me looking the day after my car was totaled. We had been looking at Mini’s before-it is something fun we do together. We looked at a few dealers and then as luck would have it, my dad found the perfect car in the web. But…more about that later…

Changes

2009-12-16T08:40:00.002-07:00

My ode to my dead computer, not backing everything up,
my dreams, getting out of school......
looking for a better job, and for love, and for sanity...
Sheryl always has the right words!

Ten years living in a paper bag
Feedback baby, he's a flipped out cat
He's a platinum canary, drinkin' falstaff beer
Mercedes rule, and a rented lear
Bottom feeder insincere
Prophet lo-fi pioneer
Sell the house and go to school
Get a young girlfriend, daddy's jewel

A change would do you good
A change would do you good

God's little gift is on the rag
Poster girl posing in a fashion mag
Canine, feline, jekyll and hyde
Wear your fake fur on the inside
Queen of south beach, aging blues
Dinner's at six, wear your cement shoes
I thought you were singing your heart out to me
Your lips were syncing and now I see

A change would do you good
A change would do you good

Chasing dragons with plastic swords
Jack off jimmy, everybody wants more
Scully and angel on the kitchen floor
And I'm calling buddy on the ouija board
I've been thinking 'bout catching a train
Leave my phone machine by the radar range
Hello it's me, I'm not at home
If you'd like to reach me, leave me alone

A change would do you good
A change would do you good
Hello, it's me, I'm not at home
If you'd like to reach me, leave me alone

A change would do you good
A change would do you good
--Sheryl Crow

Lyrics that made my realize the truth

2009-11-02T16:30:00.001-07:00

SMILE…Uncle Kracker

You´re better then the best
I´m lucky just to linger in your light
Cooler then the flip side of my pillow that´s right
Completely unaware
Nothing can compare to where you send me
Lets me know that it´s ok yeah it´s ok
And the moments where my good times start to fade

You make me smile like the sun
Fall out of bed sing like a bird
Dizzy in my head spin like a record
Crazy on a Sunday night
You make me dance like a fool
Forget how to breathe
Shine like gold buzz like a bee
Just the thought of you can drive me wild
Ohh you make me smile

Even when you´re gone
Somehow you come along
Just like a flower poking through the sidewalk crack and just like that
You steal away the rain and just like that

You make me smile like the sun
Fall out of bed sing like bird
Dizzy in my head spin like a record
Crazy on a Sunday night
You make me dance like a fool
Forget how to breathe
Shine like gold buzz like a bee
Just the thought of you can drive me wild
Ohh you make me smile

Don´t know how I lived without you
Cuz everytime that I get around you
I see the best of me inside your eyes
You make me smile
You make me dance like a fool
Forget how to breathe
Shine like gold buzz like a bee
Just the thought of you can drive me wild

You make me smile like the sun
Fall out of bed sing like bird
Dizzy in my head spin like a record
Crazy on a Sunday night
You make me dance like a fool
Forget how to breathe
Shine like gold buzz like a bee
Just the thought of you can drive me wild
Ohh you make me smile
Ohh you make me smile
Ohh you make me smile

Lyrics from the past

2009-10-26T19:35:00.001-06:00

Am I blue....

It was a morning, long before dawn
Without a warning I found he was gone
How could he do it
Why should he do it
He never done it before

Am I blue
Am I blue
Aint these tears, in these eyes telling you
How can you ask me am I blue
Why, wouldnt you be too
If each plan
With your man
Done fell through

There was a time
When I was his only one
But now im
The sad and lonely one...lonely

Was I gay
Untill today
Now hes gone, and were through
Am I blue

harry akst / grant clarke...recorded by:
Diane Lane for the Cotton Club

Watching The World Go By

2009-10-13T12:24:00.000-06:00

Sunday morning I crawled out from under my cozy down comforter into the cool briskness that is my house in the morning. My feet touched the cold, wooden floor, gingerly as they searched for my little silk slippers. I had found the slippers in Chinatown earlier that year. I wrapped my body in my robe and made my way into my closet. As I searched for my fleecy sweat pants and my running shoes I felt the cold nose of my dog, Oscar, nudging my leg. I tossed my hair into a braid headed for the door.
The cool, autumn air woke both of us up as we rushed down the street and along the river, stretching our legs. We quickly came alive. Autumn has always been my favorite time of year. The sun had just come up, shedding its dandelion yellow light over the city. The sparkly dew on the grass was drying. The leaves hanging from the trees were that interesting green color of early autumn. In the summer the leaves look dark, greenish-blue, and glossy. In the autumn, before they turn golden, orange, red, and brown, they become an odd combination of yellowish-green. Once, I hunted through one of those big boxes of crayons to find a name for that color, and the best I could come up with was yellow-green. I thought I’d find a better description than that, but I didn’t.
The morning was quiet, just the way we liked it. I could smell the smoky coffee half a block away. There was never a line this early, on a Sunday, at The Market. Oscar and I found our favorite table on the street side patio. He gnawed on a dog biscuit as I settled in with the travel section of the New York Times. No matter how old I get, the anticipation of seeing a new place for the first time is one of my most cherished emotions. My coffee was particularly strong, so I laced it with cream and stirred it with my biscotti. The smell of that smoky coffee reminded me of the coffee that I found in Rome. Sitting quietly, it was kind of a shame to watch people fretting with life so early on a Sunday. It seems that the pace never slows down in America, not even early on a Sunday morning. What could possibly be so important? I still don’t know.
I went to the same place every morning for espresso, while I was in Rome. The sign in the window said it had been there for nearly two hundred years. I liked the walnut brown, steaming hot liquid, served in tiny, white porcelain cups. I liked the warm brioche globes better. I slathered the bread with butter and fresh lemon curd made from the lemons from the trees surrounding the city. This was the first place I had ever seen beautiful stacks of freshly prepared sandwiches lining the glass display case, ready for the day. I have seen them all over Europe, but I remember seeing them here first. The cases are stuffed full from top to bottom. Sandwiches are pressed against the glass to best display their appetizing ingredients, like sliced proscuitto and mozzarella fresca with basil and tomatoes.
This is also the first time I realized that the price for a coffee at the counter is less than the price for a coffee at a table. I always took my coffee outside. As I sat at a little table, across from the Spanish Steps in Piazza di Spagna, I watched the men in tight-fitting suits gather at the counter for their morning ritual. I could never understand their quick Italian but I imagined that their conversations were about the weather, or the latest conquests of their soccer teams, just like men around the world would be discussing in the morning, over their coffee. They never splashed their espresso with milk, but they always used sugar. The sugar, always real sugar, came in long, paper tubes.
The lemon yellow sun inched its way through the ancient buildings illuminating the street with golden beams of dusty light. The leaves on the trees in the courtyard were a muted yellow-green. Teenagers, babies, and grandmothers dotted the 300-year-old steps. They nibbled on brioche and warmed themselves with their cappuccinos. I wondered to myself what this place was like when the English poet John Keats lived and died in the building just to the right of the steps. Was it as hurried and as cluttered? Did it smell of crushed herbs and rosemary? Did he sit in this very café and gather ideas for his writings? Perhaps. The architecture of the city is hundreds and thousands of years old. The traditions run deep. I wondered, how many artists have been inspired by Rome? I ran my finger through the sugar I had spilled on the table and traced it on the tip of my tongue.
A year later I found myself walking down Rue Saint Germain, smoking a Gauloises cigarette as I looked for a café au lait and a piping hot croissant. I settled into a classic Parisian street side café and proceeded to do what Parisians do; watch the world go by. There is no other place in the world where I’d rather sit and enjoy doing absolutely nothing. Parisian street side cafés were designed to make daily life a spectator sport. The elegant, bent cane, wicker chairs were lined up facing the sidewalk with a gorgeous, wrought iron pedestal table neatly placed in front of each pair. Each table had the requisite ashtray, which was always mysteriously empty but never for long.
The architecture and the grand boulevards in the chic neighborhoods along the Seine River were designed primarily by Baron Haussmann at the request of Napolean III at the onset of the 1860’s as a way to modernize and beautify Paris. The avenues were lined with stoic old trees. The leaves were just beginning to lose their waxy, bluish-green hue for a recognizable yellow-green tint. It was the Paris of photographs and of films. It was breathtakingly beautiful. Just to the north of the Seine River, is Montmartre. Best known as the Bohemian and Artist district of the city, Montmartre is home to the Moulin Rouge on scandalous Rue Pigale, hundreds of bistros, and the famed Basicilica du Sacré Coeur. Climbing the hundreds of steps to the Sacré Coeur for the first time was monumental. I dropped a coin into the viewer at the top of the stairs and I could see the whole of Paris behind me, and it took my breath away.
I walked a few blocks to the famed, open-air artists market on Place du Tertre and browsed through the paintings. I always enjoy watching the artists at work. I slid into a chair on the patio of Le Sabot Rouge and watched the sunset, as the artists packed up, and the glass lamps warmed with light. A fussy woman of a certain age was perched at the table next to me with her French Bulldog sitting at her feet. She was sipping on a glass of red wine and puffing on a cigarette. The ash on her cigarette was very long and the smoke rose in a curlicue into the brisk evening air. The Parisian sky became the legendary violet it is known for, dotted with the golden globes of the gas lamps and the electric lights of the city. As I ordered a glass of Chinon and a bowl of onion soup, I slipped my little notebook out of my shoulder bag. This was a perfect time to record my thoughts of my day as I watched Paris slow down and melt into the night. I wondered if Oscar Wilde had scribbled musings at that very spot? Maybe Ernest Hemingway penned a draft of The Movable Feast from the table where I sat? The square was bustling as the cafés and bistros filled with people. The same scene was being played all over Paris. People were joining friends and family to relax, converse, dine, drink, laugh and debate the news of the day.
Sipping on my glass of red, wine I remembered that there was a vineyard just a few blocks away. The Parisians had been making wine on Montmartre for two thousand years. From the Middle Ages, the Cloistered Nuns of Saint Pierre’s Church owned the lands surrounding the church. Every year in October, the citizens of Paris celebrated the wine with the popular Fête des Vendanges (harvest festival), which I hoped to attend one of these years. Winemaking has such a lengthy and rich history in France. Wine has been considered France’s national treasure throughout the ages. There is nothing quite like French wine and there is nothing quite like visiting a vineyard at harvest. The earthy, dusky smell of the soil married to the lush ripeness of the swollen fruit can be enchanting.
The muted Californian sun was streaming through the sheers of my window tickling my eyes open. The previous night was a blur of begging a waiter to serve one last smoky wood-fried pizza as he was closing for the night, followed by a freezing cold dip in an ancient stone pool surrounded by poplar trees, the scent of honeysuckle and night blooming jasmine, and then a scorching hot bubble bath. I slept like a baby, but perhaps a little too late. I flew down the stairs of the bed and breakfast I grabbed a coffee and some fruit before the car arrived. The air was already humid and hot. Some friends were taking me deep into the Russian River Valley for a private tour of several exclusive vineyards. I’d never seen the vineyards in this part of California. We drove for what seemed like an eternity. As the miles clicked by, we passed some of the most coveted and brightest stars of California wine. Finally we arrived at the highest peak in the area. From there, I could see the Pacific Ocean through the clearing fog. Miles and miles of vineyards surrounded me. The leaves on the vine were signaling an early autumn and the fruit hung heavy and ripe on the vine. In some parts of the region this would be the first day of harvest for the season.
I listened carefully to the vineyard manager, and tasted grapes from each row. It was interesting to taste what he tasted. The grapes from the north side of the vine were not as sweet and ripe as the grapes from the south side. I crushed the pips on my tongue, and I realized that they were just reaching phenolic ripeness in some vineyards but were days even weeks away in others. We grasped handfuls of soil to analyze scents, taste, and quality together. We tasted the soil, just a little bit. I wandered toward the edge of one of the vineyards to inhale the smells and snap a photograph and I realized that the leaves on the vine had and interestingly familiar color, a simple yellow-green of autumn that I had observed all over the world.

Three Poems

2009-09-28T18:18:00.000-06:00

The Blood of the Gods

Just one grape is so precious and so rare
That has only lived in ever one place.
A lovely Magdalene with long red hair,
On the lips of a dying man she traced.
A wine reserved only for Caesars and Kings,
Poets of Rome praised the Falerian,
About it often the chorus did sing,
Yet the name, buried by historians.
The blood of the gods and the blood of man,
Long ago forgotten just like this wine.
And a myth I will never understand,
Covered long ago by the ash of time.
From Mount Vesuvius and Mount Vulture
Aglianico is still the poet’s lure.

Temptation

Flipping through the latest Hollywood magazine
Gazing at your glossy celluloid dream
Half a glass of warm red wine,
And a lit cigarette.
I suppose I could wish you into my life
Find a red candle and a flame to light
Half a glass of warm red wine,
And a lit cigarette.

A sliver of the moon hanging low in the sky
The acoustic guitar in my room begins to cry
Half a glass of warm red wine,
And a lit cigarette.
Swaying and slow dancing in the hall
Press me up tight and long against the wall
Half a glass of warm red wine,
And a lit cigarette.

Kissing until you bruise my lips
Hands wandering down around my hips
Half a glass of warm red wine,
And a lit cigarette.
The heat of your touch and the palm of my hand
The sweet taste, salty sweat, a delicious man
Half a glass of warm red wine,
And a lit cigarette.
The initial temptation of skin against skin
Invoking waves of delay in me again
Half a glass of warm red wine,
And a lit cigarette.

Perfume of last night lingers low in the air
Your fingers run through my tangled hair
Half a glass of warm red wine,
And a lit cigarette.
We never think twice about proper etiquette
They won’t know, we’ll never forget
Half a glass of warm red wine,
And a lit cigarette.

The pale light of the dawn warms my skin
Pulling me back from where I’ve been
Half a glass of warm red wine,
And a lit cigarette.

How can I become everything to me?

How can I conquer the world?
When I haven’t even conquered
My own hometown yet?

How can I soar to new heights?
When I haven’t ever stepped
Out of the wadding pool just yet?

How can I give you my gift,
My knowledge and lessons,
When I know you don’t want them yet?

How can I ever love you?
When I don’t even know who you are,
I haven’t even met you yet?

How can I give you my smile?
When I have never taken a chance
Quite like that yet?

How can I become everything to me?
When I don’t even really know
What that is just yet?

How can I finally earn my due,
Gain my respect from you,
After so many years of trying?

How do I begin to feel,
And make it real,
After so many years of hiding?

When will I set it right,
And give up the fight,
And begin living instead of lying?

Deucalion and Pyrrah-fiction for you

2009-09-16T22:41:00.001-06:00

After seven years coming to this vineyard in Spain every summer, Chloe was finally used to walking with her back to the vines and talking to the crowd, in high heels no less. The heels accentuated her long, slender legs. Twenty years of dancing kept her agile and the discipline showed. Her taut body was draped in the tight black pants and the fitted black silk sweater of her uniform. As she spoke she twisted her wavy hair up and secured it with a silver barrette. “ This has always been my favorite vineyard and winery in Rioja.” She said to the group of middle-aged tourists, guiding them down an ancient path through gnarled, old, tempranillo vines. “The owner’s family has been collecting art for hundreds of years. Some of the most beautiful paintings in the world are just inside the house.” Chloe motioned to the ancient chateau poised up on a hill, her flattery was more pronounced than usual.
She always liked to save this vineyard for the end of the ten-day tour through Spanish wine country. On this day, however, she was distracted by something other than her job as a guide. The bright sun was dipping low on the horizon and blinding her view of the faces. She managed to glance often over to the chateau in the distance, as if she was searching for something there. Two men were unloading the travel coach and lining up the luggage. Her new luggage stood out. It was larger than the rest of the bags. The porter took the bags inside the chateau.
Chloe lead the group through the gardens and through the old, wooden double doors of the chateau, she paused for just a moment to catch her breath and let the group congregate. Before them was a long corridor filled with some of the most legendary and coveted paintings and pieces of art ever seen in a private collection. Behind her was a glorious sunset of magenta and orange that rested on top the vines. From somewhere in the distance, the sounds of acoustic Flamenco guitar were gently flooding the hall.
Her eyes came to rest on a single painting, hung out of the way and poorly lit. It pained her to see it neglected in that way, hanging alone, in the corner, in the dark. “Deucalion and Pyrrha,” was dusty and ignored. She had loved it instantly when she first discovered it there, seven years ago. Overwhelmed by the dusky beauty of the painting she looked at every brush stroke, every color and the layers of meaning in the symbols used to convey the myth. Each character symbolized the chaos of the birth of man and the seeds of destruction of all humanity. The decadence of life; the feasts, the wine, the jewels and finery were all on display. Deucalion and Pyrrha had the choice to continue along their path populating the world with humans. With each human they created, they brought sin and hedonism and lust into the world. The struggle was on their faces and in the pain of the piece. It was dark and brooding with vibrant splashes of crimson washed through the azure and violet background. Aloud, but to nobody in particular, she glossed over the little brass plaque; “‘Deucalion and Pyrrha’ was painted in the 1600’s by ‘Il Grecchetto’ Giovanni Benedetto Castiglione.” She then murmured to herself, “and it ended up hidden away in this corridor, in the corner, in the dark.”
She felt the air shift and become cool outside as a storm approached. She couldn’t have asked for a more perfect evening to spend in the old chateau. She loved the rain. Mesmerized by the painting, the music, and the perfumed air; the voices of the group became a jumbled noise that blended into the quiet thunder on the distant horizon. As she spoke to the crowd, her mind wandered to her studio at home, and the dozens of paintings lined up against the wall, which mingled with empty wine bottles bearing the label of the vineyard. Each painting was exactly the same and yet each was in some way flawed. As she paced back and forth in the corridor, like a cat in a cage, she dutifully rattled of the details of each painting to the group of tourists. She gazed at her beloved painting once again, and as she sighed to herself, a smile was on her lips which was barely perceptible to the group or to even to her.
The rain began to fall, gently at first. The blaze of orange had given way to grey storm clouds. The warm and welcoming smells of paella, tempranillo and tapas were wafting through the air. The Flamenco music had gained force and the tempo stirred something in the group. They were bored of the art, tired from the day of traveling, and hungry from the smells of dinner. They made their way out of the hall and looked for the dining room and the aromas of Spain. Chloe trailed behind as she shook off the spell of the painting.
The dinner went well as these dinners usually did. The owner of the vineyard presented himself and played Flamenco for the group. The clients always paid for an exclusive experience. They wanted to visit the very best vineyards, dine on the most delicious cuisine and sample the most impressive wines. They wanted to be entertained and educated. This group was no exception. The vineyard owner was always a gracious host and Chloe was their passport into the world of luxury and finery that most people have only read about. Everyone was tired after seven courses and dozens of bottles of the vineyards finest wines dating back forty years. Plumes of smoke billowed around the candles in the chandelier that hung above the table. It was dark and cool, despite the fire that burned in the old marble dressed fireplace at the end of the room. Outside the storm raged on. It was late in the season but the grapes on the vines were still waiting to ripen and the storm was making the vineyard owner uncomfortable. He was afraid of losing his most prized possession just before harvest. The guests were sipping on the last glasses of Palo Cortado Sherry and one by one, they excused themselves for the evening. According to protocol, Chloe showed each guest to his or her private suite, which were scattered throughout the old Chateau. Through the years she had learned to walk lightly on the creaking floors to prevent waking anyone from their slumber. She new each weakness in the floors and expertly avoided the noisiest spots.
Once the last guest was safely tucked away, Chloe and the vineyard owner shared one last glass of wine in celebration if yet another successful tour. The guests were satisfied and she sold more wine on this tour than ever before. Their conversation turned to the upcoming harvest and the dangers of the storm. Their conversation slowly trailed off. After what seemed like hours of silence as they both stared into the dying fire of glowing embers and blue hot flames, Chloe wished him goodnight, kissing each cheek, and made her way to her room. She was exhausted from the trip and lulled by the meal, the wine, and the weather. She kicked off her high heels, pulled her nightgown out of her new luggage and sat at the edge of her bed, deep in thought.
Chloe slipped out of her room closing the door behind her without making a sound. As she made her way down the long corridor, she could barely hear the owner as he strummed the guitar. He was so close, but thankfully he was wrapped up in his own thoughts and worries. She found herself standing in front of “Deucalion and Pyrrha” and she trembled. She nearly dropped the bag she was carrying as she lowered it to her feet. Seven years she had waited for this moment. She stood motionless and listened as the owner played. Seven years of wanting; of desire so strong that she could not focus or think of anything else. Outside the storm moaned and cried. Seven years of painting, and her own personal torment of craving something so badly that she could never have had before.
She breathed deeply and slowly to calm herself and her shaking hands. She focused on the neglected painting intently as she used her knife to ease it away from the backing and slipped it carefully out of the frame. The music had stopped for a moment and she hadn’t noticed. Chloe hesitated, and then she rolled up the painting with a silk cloth to protect the ancient paint, and slid it into the long black tube she had strung across her back. She worked very quickly to replace it with one of her own. Finally, she took a step back and realized that it was nearly perfect. She smiled to herself as she paused to listen to the storm and the faded Flamenco guitar that dampened any sound she might have made. She gathered up her things and disappeared into the shadows as she quickly made her way back to her room.
The morning sun shone through her window and danced in the gauzy sheer drapes that canopied her bed. Chloe awoke her from her slumber and stretched like a cat to wake her limbs. The group was departing that morning and she was returning to her little apartment in the city. Her eyes were sleepy as she arranged her things in her new luggage. She pulled on her uniform and slipped her feet into her high heels. She whisked her wavy hair into a silver barrette and slicked on some lip-gloss. She grabbed the handle of her new luggage and wheeled it through the door and snuck down the corridor as quietly as she could. She lined her new luggage up with the rest of the bags and walked through the old, wooden, double doors. The bright sun had come up over the horizon and it blinded her as she turned her eyes toward the vineyard and the group that was standing there waiting for her. She took a deep breath and smiled.

Ma muse, le vin

2009-09-01T10:09:00.001-06:00

Wine is my muse and has been the muse to many writers from the early Chinese poets, to the ancient Egyptians and Greeks. The Roman playwrights and historians detailed their affair with wine. Italian monks and French priests labored over the vines and the pages in their journals discussing wine. Historians, politicians, diplomats, poets, artists, courtesans, society ladies, trustifarians, actors, filmmakers, and musicians, have all discussed the finer and lesser attributes of their muse, wine.

Wine is a feminine, eretheal goddess who has transcended time and culture. She is sultry, perfumed, glimmering, and exquisite. She entices and seduces the least expecting victim with her luscious charms. Even when she takes on a charismatic and masculine guise, she is still sensual and succulent and beautiful. She can be girlishly sweet and joyfully bubbly. She can have a sharp and acidic laugh or a sturdy if slightly bitter way about her. In her older years she tends to be mellow, warm and comforting. She is always inviting. She nourishes and she gives life. She reduces the stresses and inhibitions of the day. She is greatly misunderstood and often she appears to be complicated. In reality she is very simple. She just wants to be loved, respected, and appreciated for exactly who and what she is, nothing more and nothing less. She is always looking for someone new, but she never forgets her old friends. Once you have been tangled in her delicate web of inky mystery you may never be able to wrestle free. You will be hers forever.

My New Pair of Old Jeans

2009-08-23T22:32:00.005-06:00

Recently, I was in Portland, Oregon, working with The Wine Academy of Spain on a three day Spanish Wine Certification Course. This was the second city of a brief, four city, west coast tour. These classes are all day long, intense, and tend to be fairly disorganized. This particular venue was quite nice and the staff was fairly well prepared for the event. They pre-sorted and catalogued all 200 bottles of wine. The tables were laid out classic banquet style instead of our usual classroom set up. They were dressed prettily, as if for a wedding. The wine glasses were huge balloon type goblets and were completely inappropriate for a wine tasting. We needed new glasses.

A student offered to bring us 100 new Reidel professional tasting glasses from his Tiki and Wine Bar. We took a mini break and I continued working on tying up every loose detail for the remainder of the tour. This is a job that is never finished and is always changing with every moment. It keeps me flexible and on my toes. The student returned with the new glasses, the tables were reset in a flash and the show continued on flawlessly.

By the end of the second day, my partner Esteban, and I were feeling a bit exhausted. The students always like to take us out on the town to show off their city and Portland would be no different. Portland has a fantastic restaurant scene. As we were cleaning up, Esteban tossed me a bag of Honey & Almond Nougat candies, knocking over two full glasses of red wine, which splashed down my legs soaking my blue jeans purple. I squealed and we laughed. Quickly I realized I had nothing to wear to Davis Street Tavern but an inappropriately formal dress. The same student chimed in that he used to be a jeans broker and had a supply in various cuts, styles, and brands. He asked my size and promised to deliver a pair to my hotel in time for the dinner. Relief.

I washed my jeans out in the tub in my hotel room. Hand washing jeans is no delicate task. Luckily I had a balcony and hung the sopping wet mess in the hot and humid Portland air to dry. It was going to take forever. So I wrapped myself in my robe and turned on the shower. Looking down at my purple stained thighs I laughed to myself. Someone was knocking at my door. “Hmmmm,” I wondered to myself, “Someone must have the wrong door.” I heard the knocking again so I tightened my robe and answered the door. To my surprise, there stood the student, grinning and clutching a pair of jeans. Shocked I said hello, I hadn’t expected a personal courier. I thought he’d leave them at the front desk for me. How did he get my room number? He pushed his way into my room, thrusting the jeans into my hands. I was completely shocked. “Ok,” I said very cautiously, “Let me try them on.” They looked suspiciously like a well-worn pair of men’s jeans but they were very cool Ben Sherman button fly’s from London. So, I popped into the bathroom locking the door and pulled on the baggy in all the wrong places, quite obviously not women’s jeans, jeans. I looked like I had a package where I clearly do not. I slid on my tee shirt and walked into my suite to thank the student for the effort and to show him that the jeans were a moderate success. As I rounded the corner, I stopped short, I gasped, and exclaimed, “What in the hell are you doing!”

There he was, sprawled across my bed his clothes strewn on my floor. “I thought you might want some company, it must be lonely on tour for so long,” he stammered, grinning like some sort of deranged hyena. I spun around facing the wall and answered, “No, no I do not, you have got to go, now. I need to take a shower and get ready for dinner, and you have got to go.” He had the balls to say, “Can I join you? You are the most beautiful thing I have ever seen. I just want to join you.” I walked over to the door and flung it opened, standing next to it motioning for him to leave. He wriggled back into his clothes and wandered out the opened door, which I promptly slammed on his ass! I shook my head and said out loud, to myself, “What in the hell is wrong with people.”

I dolled myself up in an edgy top and great heels, and I looked ok in the jeans at the dinner. I avoided the student’s acidic stare and bitter little comments. I mingled with the students and later over beers I told Esteban the story. He was not pleased at all but we had a good laugh.

About a week later, once I had returned home, I received a text from the student. He told me to keep the jeans in exchange for the highest score on the exam, which would qualify him for the free trip to Spain in the fall. Now, I have nothing to do with the grades for the exam but I suggested to Esteban that he fail him for unprofessional conduct and attempting to bribe me with his old jeans. But, I kept the jeans anyway.

My First day of my Last Semester

2009-08-17T09:38:00.001-06:00

Today is the first day of my last semester...love the way that sounds.
Yesterday, I returned to Denver from my two week west coast tour with the Spanish Wine Academy...I have never been more exhausted. I had an incredible time and learned more in two weeks than I could in a semester at college.

That said...I am completely unprepared for classes today...and I must have senioritis because I don't really care...I am sure that will change by the end of the week.

Dreading my french classes and my algebra class...I guess I saved the worst for last..lol..
I am trying to figure out when and how I am going to learn Spanish...working for a Spanish company has presented the opportunity to work for several other Spanish companies...why did I just take three years of French?!?

What I like in a man…

2009-07-18T22:22:00.002-06:00

A few nights ago my favorite gay boyfriend and I were talking about our “types” and tastes in men…he realized that I have no consistent type when it comes to matters of the heart and attraction. None of the men I have dated resemble each other physically. But, I protested…I do have a type, a personality type. Many of the men from my past are not the most beautiful men or the most successful men…but they are all very sexy men.

I go absolutely weak in the knees for men with a little quality I like to call “Throw Down.” It is almost indescribable and can be difficult to articulate but throw down is a combination of factors that I crave in a man whether he is a certain physical type or not.

Throw down is that little bit of passion that makes him slyly sneak a kiss from me when I least expect it. It is never forced or demanded…but stolen unexpectedly as he walks by me on the stairs, barely hidden from view, on his way back to his meeting. It is never for show or to prove a point or to mark me as his possession in front of his friends…but, it is a private little moment shared between us. It is the kind of passion that fails to ask if it is ok to kiss me, but just thrusts my back, hard up against the wall, and takes my face in his hands as he kisses me. He has the confidence and the conviction to know I am not going to be able to resist him.

This kind of man has passion in his life as well, not just passion for me or for sex. He always has a love outside of romantic entanglements….an interesting career or hobby. He is often an artist or a musician, but that is rarely his job. He is passionate about his work and his hobby and that kind of fire permeates his life. This is the kind of man that has a full life. He has interests and friends and a past and a future. He is not obsessed with his baggage because he has dealt with it…but, he is not obsessed with his future either.

This is the kind of man that knows how to treat a woman. He is romantic. He is chivalrous but not too much. He is confident enough to tell me what to do, as a man, and he knows I will respond, as a woman. It is only in his ultra masculine presence that I feel comfortable enough to soften my prickly and independent exterior and allow my feminine and seductive side to shine through. He is completely a man and I am able to become completely a woman.

He is generous, kind and gentle but really only in private….and I know it is only for me, which makes me feel incredibly special and ultimately loved. He can be a bit arrogant and cocky but never to the point of being vulgar. He is an expert in his field but he has some humility about it. He knows how to take control of the situatin, of his life, and of me….and I want him to do it…..

These men have very strong, masculine personalities. It is almost impossible for me to make eye contact with them in public, because I melt. They are potent and virile and intoxicating. When I am in their presence I am completely at ease….and yet I am incredibly uncomfortable because we cannot keep our hands off of one another….but we do, because it is so much more exciting to wait for the private little moment…like it is a hidden and dirty little secret. When we are in seclusion there is nothing that can dampen the fire.

He has a sense of style. He dresses edgy even when in fabulous jeans and a simple tee shirt. He always has a great haircut, his hair is slightly messy, not too short and never too long. and he has a fantastic white smile. He pays attention to his skin and to the look of his hands. This guy cleans the dirt out from under his fingernails. He is never obsessed with his looks but he is a combination of Rob Thomas, George Clooney and the guy next door. He always knows what is appropriate for every situation and never under dresses but he never over dresses either. And…there is absolutely something sexy about a simple silver bracelet on his left wrist.

So…essentially…my “type” doesn’t just consist of beautiful brown eyes, short hair, fantastic abs, a sexy accent, and the most seductive smile I have ever seen…

My Secret Garden

2009-07-06T08:01:00.002-06:00

My garden is a crazy, little mess...the rain has turned it into a fantastic jungle of tomato plants, green beans, and snow peas....

My favorite places in Denver for lunch and a nap

2009-06-28T16:39:00.004-06:00

I love to have little picnics, outside, in the shade, on a warm day. I have my lunch and then I will lay down for a brief rest and gaze up at the blue Colorado sky.
When I take the time to relax like this a few times a week I find I have more energy and I am happier with my daily life. Nothing seems to get me down.....

Often, I take the simplest lunch I can, like a juicy, sweet honeycrisp apple with a few slices of nutty manchego cheese and salty prosciutto. I add a few tangy olives, a crisp cracker or two and an icy cold Pelligrino water. For dessert I will have tart, ruby red cherries that stain my lips and fingers or a bunch of sweet grapes. If I don't have too much work to do in the afternoon, I will enjoy a cool glass of rose wine, which I hide in a clean Starbucks cup.

I can't think of a more perfect lunch alfresco...and there is nowhere I'd rather be for the few minutes I find in my day for my break.

I got caught in the rain today…

2009-06-25T17:20:00.004-06:00

Not just any rain but a torrential downpour, a deluge. The black sky opened and flooded the streets. The air became very still and calm just before it happened. Seduced by the change, I was drawn outside for a walk amongst the roses in my yard. The scent was honeyed and pungent all at once. The earthiness of the damask and tea roses combined with the heady perfume of the pink and red floribunda modern varieties swirled around me, enticing foolish and industrious bees. All at once I heard a thunderous roar as the first drops began to fall.

Initially, the shock of the heavy rain against my body felt prickly…but the sensation melted, and as I relaxed into the feeling I began to enjoy the sensuality of the experience.

The raindrops were huge orbs of sweet water that felt like warmed bath water against my taut skin. They tasted briny and dusty on my tongue. I tilted my face toward the dark clouds and let the water wash over my closed eyelids and my lips and through my long hair.

The rain poured down over me, fast and furiously, drenching my clothes, gluing them to my every curve. Every inch of my body became visible, slathered in my linen dress. The energy of it all was exhilarating and refreshing.

As I stood there, perfectly still, under the shower of silky water…my thoughts ran back to you. I remembered your warmth and your touch as you lathered my body, washing my limbs and my hair. I remember the way it felt to be in your arms, slowly moving to the music of the city and I long to dance again…with you…in the rain.

My life, as it is in Denver

2009-06-19T18:41:00.008-06:00

A man recently told me that maybe Paris isn't good enough for me and maybe I should think about what I have had already in my life...maybe I should write about that...I have had a brilliant life, enough stories to to entertain for a while. I have lived fully and I have much to tell.
Maybe, I will take his advice and revisit the life I have had here in Denver..and...I will tell secrets I have never told.

Comment c'est que je peux tomber dans l'amour dans quelques jours ? Où est ma tête? C'est irrationnel, délicieux, et dangereux pour mon coeur. Mais ici je suis, désarmé et impuissant. Je suis sous le contrôle de quelque chose plus grand que ma propre volonté. Je suis changé et je ne serai jamais le même. Et J'ai félicité...

¿Cómo es que puedo enamorarme en unos pocos días? ¿ Dónde está la cabeza? Es irracional, delicioso, y peligroso para el corazón. Pero aquí soy, indefenso e impotente. Estoy bajo el control de algo más que mi propio hago. Soy cambiado y yo nunca seré lo mismo. Y soy feliz....

How is it that I can fall in love in a few days? Where is my head? It is irrational, delicious, and dangerous for my heart. But here I am, defenseless and helpless. I am under the control of something greater than my own will. I am changed and I will never be the same. And I am blissful....

Sultans of Swing...for you

2009-06-17T07:25:00.006-06:00

How is it that one man can so profoundly change my life in a matter of four days? As I write this I feel tears in my eyes…tears of bliss, of fatigue, of desire, of longing…I feel aching in my heart.

I am lost in a strange agony…I am exhausted but yet, I cannot sleep. I am famished and I cannot eat. Wine does not quench my thirst. My mind is swirling with thoughts and memories and I cannot focus on anything. I only wish to close my eyes and remember his, the way he looked at me….I will never forget the deepness of the way he looked into my eyes and my soul.

He changed me and he changed my life in the minutes we were together and I know I will never be the same. I will never recover. I fear that he was the first man I have ever known that is completely for me. He read my secrets and saw things in me that only he has seen. He was a stranger to me but I trusted him in ways I have never trusted a man before and will never again. His passion, his control; he led me in dance and for the first time in my life I learned to follow. I learned what it is to melt into someone else and just be free in the moment with the music.

The sound of his voice is haunting my thoughts sending a chill down my spine. My body craves his body. My lips crave his lips, his soft breath on my cheek. My ears wish to hear the sound of his beautiful voice. My eyes, my eyes desire to soak in his every move, his devious smile, his anger, his bliss, and his distant gaze. He left his shirt and it smells like him...intoxicating...

I would sell my soul to have one more day...lying next to him…listening to Sultans of Swing...in his arms.

Sultans of Swing lyrics:

You get a shiver in the dark
Its been raining in the park but meantime
South of the river you stop and you hold everything
A band is blowing dixie double four time
You feel all right when you hear that music ring

You step inside but you dont see too many faces
Coming in out of the rain to hear the jazz go down
Too much competition too many other places
But not too many horns can make that sound
Way on downsouth way on downsouth london town

You check out guitar george he knows all the chords
Mind hes strictly rhythm he doesnt want to make it cry or sing
And an old guitar is all he can afford
When he gets up under the lights to play his thing

And harry doesnt mind if he doesnt make the scene
Hes got a daytime job hes doing alright
He can play honky tonk just like anything
Saving it up for friday night
With the sultans with the sultans of swing

And a crowd of young boys theyre fooling around in the corner
Drunk and dressed in their best brown baggies and their platform soles
They dont give a damn about any trumpet playing band
It aint what they call rock and roll
And the sultans played creole

And then the man he steps right up to the microphone
And says at last just as the time bell rings
thank you goodnight now its time to go home
And he makes it fast with one more thing
we are the sultans of swing

(and then, one of the most beautiful guitar solos of all time....)

Priorities and Life

2009-05-09T12:53:00.005-06:00

It is said that priorities change over the course of your life. I believe that is true, to an extent. But, I also believe that friends and family should always remain a priority. When we are younger, our friends come and go as our lifestyle changes and we grow. By the time we are in our mid thirties, we have pretty much figured out who we are and what we want out of life. We also know what we want from our friendships and what we want to give back to our friends.

Sometimes I wonder if “Sex and the City” has given me an unrealistic expectation about my friendships. These four women are always a phone call away. The four of them are always going out together. They get together at ‘Coffee Shop’ for brunch on Sunday mornings. They are together even when they are romantically involved with men. They meet in pairs for lunch. Occasionally one of them has other plans and it is just three. Throughout it all, they nurture and cherish their relationships with one another. It is beautiful, and it just may be unrealistic.

I would love to have that kind of access to my friends. I rarely see them and it is really starting to bother me. I try to nurture and build my relationships with them. Sometimes I feel like I am the only one calling to make plans. When we are together everyone says how great it is and how we should make it a point to see each other more often…but, it never seems to happen.

Do I expect too much from my friends? Maybe I do, but I really don’t think so. I don’t see how a friendship can flourish without attention and contact. Only one of my friends is a phone person, Nina could spend hours on the phone….mostly when she is driving for hours to and from work. It’s never been my thing. I like to meet in person. I like to see the person I am talking to. I want to read body language and experience the relationship with all of my senses.

Do I expect them to be able to drop everything and get together for brunch? Sort of, I expect them to set aside two hours for brunch, but only once a month. This year, I decided it was time to cultivate my friendships after conversation after conversation with each friend about how we never see each other and we should get together more…so, I decided to plan a monthly brunch for my girlfriends and we all agreed to commit the time to attend.

In February, Michelle, Natasha and her daughter Siena, and I met at ‘Crepes et Crepes’ in LoDo. Nina didn’t make it. The second month only I showed up. The third month Michelle and Nina and I met at ‘Great Beginnings’ near Parker. And last month Michelle and I met at ‘Mimi’s Café’ in Highlands Ranch at Nina’s suggestion but she and Natasha didn’t show up. Obviously, my plan isn’t working out very well.
Now, we always have a great time and I love seeing any of my girls, but I don’t understand why we all can’t get together? What is standing in our way?
It seems that work, men, kids, money, and logistics get in our way.

On “Sex and the City” the ladies live in Manhattan, which is a is a tiny island covering just 33 square miles surrounded by the Metro area, which totals 6,720 square miles. The ladies are relatively close to one another. Even when Miranda moves to Brooklyn, she is just across the Brooklyn Bridge from Manhattan. Easy Access.

Denver is sprawling, it is spread out across 159 square miles while the entire Metro area covers 8,414 square miles. Michelle lives in Parker, which is 30 miles south east of downtown. Natasha lives in Idaho Springs, which is 35 miles west of downtown.
Nina lives in Highlands Ranch, which is 20 miles south of downtown. I live downtown.

Michelle has two daughters and works a classic nine to five. Her husband travels during the week and occupies most of her time on the weekends. Of all of us, she needs the girl time break the most! Natasha is a single stay at home mom. She lives with her parents and hates it. Nina works in the entertainment business right downtown, she has a nine to five but she occasionally has to work an event at night and on the weekends. I am a full time student and I work full time.

Even with the distances between us and the life stuff that gets in the way, we should be able to meet once a month!

A Literary Salon

2009-04-26T22:05:00.000-06:00

I have always wanted to be a member of a literary salon. I am not just talking about an ordinary book club where lonely gals get together to drink wine and commiserate about their lives. I am talking about a salon like the ones hosted by the literati and their hangers on during the high periods of European culture. Often, the mistress of some powerful official or the wife of a professor would host the event. She would invite an interesting mix of educated men and women and they would sit around her salon, sipping on wine and puffing on cigarettes, and discuss the important topics of the day from the latest philosophy to the most scandalous politics. How delicious it must have been to be so completely intellectually stimulated and challenged.

Modern technology and our extremely busy schedules are increasing the isolationism in our country. People no longer gather to discuss and debate much of anything. I can’t even gather my girlfriends once a month for brunch! People no longer have time for a conversation. The newspapers are faltering, giving way to online sources, television spoof news, and info-blogs. Students were once at the forefront of the discussion, and yet, most that I meet know nothing of the headlines today. The average twenty-three minute network evening news consists of six minutes of sports, six minutes of weather, seven minutes of entertainment or local happenings, which leaves just two minutes for world news. I never bother watching anything but the weather. I read the New York Times and BBC World News online edition. I also check the Montreal Gazette and Le Monde at least once a week. But, I have no one to discuss it with. What good is news that cannot be shared or debated?

Putting my modern technology to good use, I found two interesting Meet Up groups in my area. The first one is a French club. It has 296 members and small groups meet several times a month. I’d like to give it a try. I need to practice my speaking and listening skills. I often have difficulty deciphering spoken French…it is so dang fast! The French meet up doesn’t have any scheduled meetings for May. The other group I have heard of before. The group was founded in 2004 and has nearly 200 members. It is poetically labeled the Socrates Café due to the philosophical nature of the discussions. That could be very interesting and very intellectually stimulating. The next meeting is on May 7th. I will plan on going to check it out. Hopefully, it will be just the thing to cure my craving.

Men, meet the telephone

2009-04-26T21:55:00.000-06:00

I was having a bottle of wine with my girlfriends a few months ago and the conversation turned to men as it usually does. Of the four of us, one has a sexy boyfriend, one is sleeping with her single and very hot boss, one is on Match.com and I am playing the field with several men. Don’t get me wrong; we are all ok with our current situations to an extent. For example, Nina is dating a great guy that loves her, but he really never gives her what she wants. And her roomie is looking for love on Match but hasn’t found Mr. Right, or even Mr. Right now. I am dating several men, nothing too serious, and no one in particular. I refuse to settle for less than I want and none of these men have shown me that they have what it takes to be a great match for me. The one thing that all of these men have in common is that they DON’T CALL.
Some schools of thought say that they (the men) are just not that into us if they don’t call, but others say that Mars needs to be in control and Venus just needs to wait around for them and let them run the show. Modern women don’t like to sit around for any man to run the show, we just go after what we want and if they can’t handle that it is their problem! Men need to catch up and get in the new game. Or do they?
Personally, I have never been good at the dating game because; I am smart, educated, successful, and often impatient and don’t have time to sit around and wait for a man to get it together to pick up the phone and call me when it is convenient for them. What about that is convenient for me? I don’t like to play that game and if he doesn’t call there are other men lined up who may want to take me out to dinner or a show.
Now, granted, this tactic leads to a lot of first or second dates and nothing else…. but, I am also not waiting around pathetically for the phone to ring.
Why can’t guys get this message…Women hate waiting for your call…call us the next day if you are interested…because we are not going to wait around for long!!!!
We know you want to chase us and we know that you need the control but in a day and age when email takes less than a second and I can get my dry cleaning in 12 hours, I expect a guy to call me with in a few days. I am not going to wait for a telegram or the pony express to figure out if you are interested or not. It’s true, when you don’t call when you say you will, I do assume you are just not that into me and I say “well that was nice, but, NEXT!!!” So you lose and I may lose too. By the time you get around to figuring out if you are in to me I have moved on and we are both wondering what could have been.
So. Let me ask you all out there, why don’t men call and how long do women wait for a call?

Last night I went to Venice

2009-04-17T18:13:00.001-06:00

One of my favorite restaurants in Denver is Venice on 17th and Wynkoop Street in LoDo. My friend, Mario is the GM. He always has a smile and a Limoncello for me at the end of my meal. In the summer, I frequent Venice for their amazing happy hour, which runs from 11:00 am until 6:00 pm weekdays. They have a roomy patio where I can have a glass of wine with a selection of small plates and watch the sunset as the bustling crowd rushes past. Their cuisine is classic northern Italian. It is always delicious and satisfying.

We started our meal with Champagne and Vongole “Canal Grande,” Manila clams with fresh tomatoes, baby arugula, roasted garlic, served with a marinara wine sauce. I enjoyed my favorite salad, Mozzarella Caprese, made from vine ripened tomatoes, fresh mozzarella, basil and Mediterranean dry oregano, drizzled with Tuscan olive oil. My friend decided on Insalata di Rucola e Pomodori with baby arugula, vine ripened tomatoes, Tropea onions, buffalo mozzarella, olives and Modena balsamic dressing.

We shared a bottle of the famed Castello Banfi Poggio all’Oro Brunello di Montalcino Riserva. The wine is produced only in excellent vintages. "Poggio all'Oro," translated as "Hill of Gold," is a single vineyard, 820 feet above sea level, particularly noted for its favorable microclimate, on the southern slopes of Montalcino. This wine has a gorgeous ruby red color with hints of violet. It has a lush bouquet, with black fruit and spice, complemented by tobacco, violet, and chocolate notes. On the palate, the wine is full bodied with a velvety mouthfeel and well structured with supple tannins and good acidity. It offers rich flavors of plums and cherries followed by a long finish with nuances of berries and spice. Delicious!

For my main course I decided on Anatra al Balsamico, a lovely dish of slowly roasted Petaluma duck breast stuffed with ricotta and fontina cheeses, glazed with a sweet Modena balsamic reduction sauce. It was amazingly rich and succulent. It was served with a side of creamy risotto. My friend selected the Scaloppine ai Capperi, which is veal scaloppine with capers, roasted artichokes and roasted garlic that is finished with a Pinot Grigio-lemon butter sauce.

For dessert we shared the incredibly decadent Mousse al Cioccolato with fresh raspberries and pistachio gelato. He sipped on Galliano and I finished with rich, earthy espresso.

Some of my other favorite dishes include the Risotto all’ Aragosta e Fragole made from
imported Italian rice, chunks of lobster, fresh strawberries and a creamy lobster sauce; the Pappardelle alla Veneziana made from wide pasta ribbons with prawns, clams, mussels, scallops, fresh tomatoes and finished with a light marinara sauce; and lastly, when I am looking for something light I choose Carpaccio dei “Sospiri” a thinly sliced filet mignon with baby artichokes, micro greens, capers, and shaved grana dressed with a light mustard-lemon dressing.

A few of the delectable entrées that appear as small plates on the extensive happy hour menu include Cappellacci di Zucca, a hat- shaped ravioli filled with butternut squash, walnuts & parmesan cheese with marinara sauce and sage& brown butter; Gnocchi alla Caprese, a dish of potato dumplings, fresh tomatoes, basil, fresh buffalo mozzarella and parmesan cheese; and Calamaretti Fritti al Pesto, which is flash-fried baby squid; served with a spicy marinara sauce and basil pesto.

Venice makes the most beautiful, traditional Italian desserts. I love Torta al Limone, a short paste dough filled with a lemon pastry cream,  garnished with pine nuts and almonds and served with hazelnut gelato. The classic Tiramisu made with ladyfingers soaked in espresso and layered with  mascarpone, cream and chocolate chips is fantastic. The Profiteroles al Cioccolato Bianco are filled with chantilly cream and covered with  a white chocolate sauce and chocolate shavings.

A trip to Venice is always worth it, even if it is only for one evening!

What’s New Pussycat

2009-04-16T11:00:00.001-06:00

Is it possible to be in love with a song? I know it sounds silly, but I am smitten with a song. I first heard it when I watched Ocean’s 11 on the big screen. The movie pays homage to the glitzy Rat Pack days of Vegas when men wore tuxedos and ladies were ladies. The soundtrack for the film is peppered with Jazzy Bluesy instrumental pieces from a more sophisticated era. Naturally, I bought the movie and the soundtrack. In fact, I own all of the Ocean’s movies and their respective soundtracks. Each one is uniquely different yet they all have the same flavor. Thief movies are my favorite!

The song that has my heart, by Quincy Jones, is listed as “Blues in the Night” on the soundtrack. After doing a little bit of research on Quincy and the song, I found out that Quincy originally released the song in 1962 on an album called “Quincy Plays For Pussycats.” ITunes has the album, so I listened to each track. “Blues in the Night” is on the album but it is not the same song. The song I love is actually called, “What’s New Pussycat” which makes it even cooler in my book. Very glam, very early 60’s, very sexy.

From there, I looked for other, similar songs. There were several cool songs on “Quincy Plays For Pussycats” and a few other Quincy Jones albums from that era. I also looked into Henry Mancini who wrote many award winning soundtracks and theme songs for film and television. I stumbled on the original theme song for the Pink Panther Series. I love that song too.

I’ve put together a play list on my IPod that I labeled “Sexy.” It never fails to put a smile on my face. I walk to it, I dance to it, I clean to it, I relax to it; I love it. It makes me feel sexy, and mysterious, like I have a secret or a lover. I feel like I am a Cat Burglar or maybe a Showgirl. It’s a fun and scandalous little diversion from life.

What’s New Pussycat,
Blues in the Night,
The Stripper,
The Gentle Rain,
Edge of the World,
L’Appuntamento,
Crepuscolo Sul Mare,
Thé à la ménthe,
50 Ways to Leave Your Lover,
Hot Child in the City,
Brass in Pocket,
Hot in the City,
Call Me,
Message of Love,
Rebel Yell,
Are You Gonna Be My Girl,
Can’t Get You Out of My Head,

Rant about College!

2009-03-29T22:00:00.000-06:00

I am forty years old and a college senior and I can tell you from personal experience that college is a necessary joke. Don’t get me wrong, I LOVE learning and I love school.

It is completely absurd the time and money I am spending on a degree to move myself beyond the glass ceiling. I am not really learning anything that I didn't already know and I have a 4.0/4.0 GPA.

Most of the students don't care at all because "D is for degree!" I feel extremely sorry for teachers and professors working at the college level. Young people can't even read and write...but...they can all text and they know every celebrity scandal.

I have taken classes in subjects that I will never use or think about again, but was forced to take because they were required.
I have taken several classes where I actually knew more about the topic than the instructor.

I have spent thousands of dollars on grossly overpriced text books, not to mention the ridiculous athletic fees, club fees, computer lab fees and fees for things I have never and will never use.

I constantly have instructors who use the term, "In the real world," which always leaves me thinking, "When have you ever been in the real world?" Academia is not preparing anyone for the rigors and realities of the real world. But, the only way to get ahead is to play the game…because, the bosses of the world have and they expect you to have gone through a similar experience. It shows you can commit to something just a foolish as they did, just to get ahead.

The American education system is severely outdated an ineffective. Nevertheless, I am happy and thankful to be nearly finished with my degree because I understand all too well that it is a necessity in this modern workforce if I ever want to move beyond the entry level or middle management levels of the service or any other industry!

Free from my recent past

2009-03-23T21:57:00.000-06:00

Well, it seems it is time to reinvent myself, once again…

I suppose it is normal. I just had a birthday, and I am in a reflective mood. I feel like sorting out my life and getting rid of old clothes, shoes that don’t fit, friends that are not friends, and situations that are toxic to my growth and happiness. I guess it is spring-cleaning.

I am planning on sorting out my closet on Monday. I invited some very opinionated ladies over to help me. I know that they will give me their honest opinions about what should stay and what should go. Sometimes it is difficult to let go of clothes…they carry memories and monetary value…my plan is to pare my wardrobe down to a small selection of perfectly constructed, perfectly fitted, and perfectly versatile clothes….European girl style. Every piece will go with every piece and it will all flow. The clothes themselves will act as a canvas for me; showcasing my figure, personality, and style. And they will be a canvas for the cool accessories and jewelry I own.

I, like most American girls, simply have too many choices in my closet and it is overwhelming, so I end up wearing jeans and tee shirts or sweaters on most days. It is too complicated to pull something out and then find something to wear with it. For example; if I select an olive green pencil skirt I am limited on what top I can put with it…it usually ends up being one of a dozen black tee shirts. Why a dozen black tee shirts? Because they are simple!

I have beautiful shoes that don’t really go with any of my clothes. I have gorgeous scarves and accessories. I don’t have a really great handbag. I have a couple of cool handbags but not a really great, super functional bag.

Cleaning out my life of toxic situations may be trickier than cleaning out my closet. I am very disillusioned with my job at the Wine Loft. I was initially thrilled to win the job lottery so to speak and become the Wine Director but I quickly learned I was working for amateurs with no sense of style or taste. Every move I made was micro managed, second guessed, and diminished. The owner is an indecisive alcoholic and the GM may very well have ADD or just pot induced short-term memory issues. Time to extricate myself from that high drama situation. For the past 6 months it has been a battle of authority, ego, and indecision, a constant back and forth. I never knew if I was the Wine Director or not…I never knew where I stood. It’s funny how you never really know how unhealthy a situation is until you are out. Just like any other bad relationship.

Mon anniversaire et j’ai quarante ans

2009-03-11T13:12:00.004-06:00

Sometimes such a small and thoughtful gesture means the world to me.
A few weeks ago, I celebrated my birthday. I hadn’t been really looking forward to it and just wanted to lay low. I didn’t feel the need to celebrate with a party, or a boozy night. I am too past that kind of thing…too old and it simply takes way too long to recover. I like clarity the next day, and energy!

My good friend Nina surprised me with a small gathering at one of my favorite restaurants the Saturday before the big day. I thought she and I were going to have dinner together but she surprised me by planning a surprise party for me…Michelle and Sophie couldn’t come and neither could my mom but Natasha was there and the three of us had a marvelous time drinking Rosé Champagne and dining very slowly over the course of several hours. French restaurant, French style.

My mother spent Sunday and most of Monday with me. Sunday night we watched the Oscars with take out Thai food and Riesling. On Monday, my birthday, we went shopping for my nephew and his birthday. We had lunch at whole foods. We ate birthday cake she had made for a surprise party she had planned for me that fell through with my niece and nephews…my lovely sister in law ruined it as she ruins nearly everything pertaining to me. The cake was from one of my all time favorite recipes. Laura Ingalls Wilder’s wedding cake. It is a dense, rich white cake flavored with rose water and almond. It is exquisite. It was a beautiful surprise. She gave me a funky business card holder and a pretty, little, stars and moon perfume bottle.

That evening I went to a fantastic women sommelier wine dinner at Rioja featuring Prosecco made by a family of women. The lady presenting was named Elvira and her wines were superb. She could barely speak English so her and I switched to French. It was easier than trying to understand two languages neither of us knew.

My father took me to dinner on Tuesday. We went to Café Brazil and had one of the best meals I have ever had in Denver. I had prawns and scallops with some wicked spicy sauce over fresh veggies and coconut scented rice. My dad had ahi tuna and shrimp with curry and rice. We drank caparhina, which is the Brazilian traditional drink. My dad can be sweet and we see eye to eye on moving to another country. After so many years of strained relations it turns out we have quite a bit in common.

This Saturday I am having yet another dinner with friends celebrating the occasion. I received thoughtful cards and tokens of affection from my friends. My roommate bought me the third season of SATC to replace my worn copy.

I received the most opulent, fussy, decadent bouquet of flowers from Yves….stargazer lilies, tulips, iris, gerbera daisies, and many other flowers. My entire house smells like a spring garden.

The Wine of Ancient Rome

2009-02-17T19:37:00.000-07:00

2,700 years ago, on the slopes of Mount Falerna near Campania and Latuim in Southern Italy, Aglianico grapes basked in the sun in three very special vineyards. The first vineyard was known as the Caucinian Falernian and was located on the highest slopes, the second vineyard was the Falerian found on the lowest slopes; and between the two vineyards rested the third the prized Faustian Falerian vineyard. These precious vineyards were owned by Roman aristocracy for millennia and are still under vine today. The Phoenecians cultivated the grape in Greece. During the 7th or 8th BCE the Greeks brought the grapes to Italy.

Falerian wine made from these ancient Aglianico grapes, from the Faustus vineyard were the world’s first Premier Cru, and were reserved for the extremely wealthy and important members of Roman society. It was a wine of legend and heritage, written about by famous poets, philosophers, scholars, and historians. The grapes were harvested late in the season and had tremendous levels of sugar resulting in a sweet wine with very high alcohol content. The wine was left to oxidize for up to twenty years in clay amphorae vessels. The potent sugar and alcohol content of the wine made it age worthy and suitable for travel. The Roman legions carried Falerian throughout Europe and as far north as Britian. Pliny the Elder commented, “It is the only wine that takes light when a flame is applied to it.” He also described a particular banquet honoring Julius Caesar in 60 BCE where the famed “Opimian vintage of 121 BCE” was served. That vintage was an exclusive Falerian and was one of the finest wines ever created.

Aglianico grapes are deep purple, hearty, and full of potent flavors. In Basilicata, they thrive in the volcanic soils of the extinct volcano, Mount Vulture, and on the hills near Taurasi in Campania. The commoners of Rome drank a crude red wine pressed from these grapes. The rustic, inky black wine was superior in tannins and in acidity. It had flavors of smoky ash from the volcanic soils and bright red fruit from the abundant sunshine. Legend claims this is the wine offered to Jesus before his crucifixion and the same wine that Mary Magdalene dabbed to his lips as he was dying. We will never know.

What we do know is that this lovely little grape is still growing in these same vineyards in the southern most regions of Italy. Eighty years ago two winemaking families began to produce modern wines from Aglianico grapes grown on Mount Vulture vineyards. The two most prominent regions for Aglianico in Italy are in Campania, where it is known as Taurasi DOCG, and Basilicata, where it is known as Aglianico del Vulture DOC. Until very recently, Donato D'Angelo and Paternoster were the only two producers of Aglianico del Vultures available in the U.S. Feudi is a new leader in the Aglianico game. Now, Aglianico is springing up on wine lists and in wine boutiques across Denver.

D’Angelo Aglianico del Vulture $35
D’Angelo Scaravite $16
Pasternoster Aglianico del Vulture Don Anselmo $41
Rubrato Aglianico dei Feudi di San Gregorio $22
Taurasi dei Feudi di San Gregorio $40
Feudi di San Gregorio Ros’Aura $15

Full body, tannic, acidic
Smoky, black plums, black cherries, dried cocoa, violets, and rose petals
Fantastic with rustic, wood fired pizza, or lean grilled meats

What would it be like to move away to another city and become someone else?

2009-02-14T20:48:00.000-07:00

What would it be like to move away to another city and become someone else?

Where would I go and what would I become? How would I look? How would I smell, and speak, and walk, and strut? What would I wear? What would I do? What would my home look like, my car, my kids? What would I take with me and what would I leave behind?

These are questions I ask myself quite often. Not because I want to run away from who I am but just because I am curious.

When I envision myself living my fantasy life it doesn’t look that different from my life now. My clothes are perfect, elegant, and classic. A look I have never been truly able to pull off without feeling like I am playing dress up. The black crepe sheath dress with pearls, black patent leather pumps, and a French twist. I wear it and I look great but I always end up looking a little bit messy rather than cool elegance. I will never be Grace Kelly. In my fantasy I am always just a little bit thinner. I have a great hourglass figure and that sheath dress looks better on a thinner girl.

My house always has giant, nearly floor to ceiling windows with an open floor plan and seems to be an apartment overlooking a magnificent skyline of some gorgeous city like Paris or New York. It’s a three story Brownstone because I always have a yard and a garden. The top floor is where my living area and my bed are and the middle floor is for entertaining and dining. I never see the first floor but it leads to my yard and my garage. My furniture is mine but I have reupholstered my love seat and refinished some of the worn and tattered pieces I own. My art and my books are everywhere but more orderly. I have a claw foot tub and the perfect bathroom near my bed and a very large walk in closet that may actually be an entire room. It’s not full of clothes but the one’s I have are beautifully displayed. Flowers are everywhere. It smells divine in my entire home. My kids have their own beds and the cat has a cool maze of walkways build just below the ceiling…the ultimate collection of pathways, platforms, and little caves to keep him entertained. The dog has the most cushy bed near mine and a large toy box full of his favorite things.

Everyone knows me in my neighborhood from the guy who sells me my coffee to the lady who picks the prettiest bouquets just for me. It is a community inside a city just the way I like it.
I spend my days reading and writing or wandering through my neighborhood with my dog and a coffee in my hand. I spend my evenings entertaining or talking to people about wine. I can see myself in a very cool little wine bar listening to music and talking to people about my latest fascination. I feel the love of a man and see myself in his arms but I can never see his face. I wonder if that part of the dream is real.

It’s funny as I write these words I have to admit that this is basically how my life is now. Except for the description of my home I am pretty much describing the way I live my life. I suppose that is a really good thing. Houses and dresses can be changed. Changing an entire life is much more difficult. I am pretty happy with mine and the things in my fantasy are not that far out of my reach.

Masters of wine

2009-02-14T20:20:00.000-07:00

I spent the weekend learning at the feet of five Masters and my life is changed.
A few weeks ago I was nominated to take the Court of Master Sommeliers first level course. I didn’t have to pay the regular fees. The course was this weekend. When I arrived, I found my place front row and center. If I am going to learn I might as well be an active participant. I settled in with a cup of coffee and a light breakfast of fruit. I brought my World Atlas of Wine and a stack of pens. I take notes like crazy.
About 30 minutes later, I recognized Doug Krenik, a MS that I’ve met several times before. He was at a table with Bobby Stuckey MS and the owner of Frasca. I’ve met Bobby too. There were two other men with them. I learned shortly thereafter that they were Jay Fletcher and the much-esteemed Richard Betts. I’d met Richard before but he looked different…slim, content, and sparkling. The room was filed with charisma and a certain private hi-jinx. These men obviously know each other well and are used to joking around with each other.
The lectures were a mixture of review and further detail but the blind tastings were amazing. These men went through the technique in such a detailed manner that it simply becomes an exercise in deductive reasoning. I gave the first one a shot--in front of 100 people…and I got much of it right…the other three wines I attempted I got right. Honestly, I got most of the wines; climate, country, region, and varietals right and most of the vintages right. I feel pretty damned good about that.
I had conversations with these men and interacted in a very professional and educated manner. WOW. They treated me as a peer, as someone who may be an equal someday soon. Now, more than ever, I want to be.
I was professionally validated!!! Inspired to continue the sometimes thankless path of wine studies. It is endless, forever changing, and contradictory. But, I love it. I love the history, geography, geology, agriculture, cultural traditions, and even the dull economics of it all. There is so much in each bottle of wine and in each glass it is truly an amazing expression of each of these things.

Motorcycle Boy

2009-01-12T17:18:00.002-07:00

Motorcycle Boy,

Did you take a nice long ride on your Triumph when you got home? I am jealous.
I went for a little ride on Sunday, it was a beautiful day in Denver. Cool, sunny, and quiet.

We learned some interesting things about each other and have some parallels in our lives. I am intrigued and would like to know more about you and your life.

If we were sharing a bottle of wine together
these are some of the questions I would ask you...

Did you grow up in Montreal? Tell me about your family. Do you have children?
Do you have a really cool dog?
My dog is really cool. We go everywhere together.
I will send you a picture of Oscar Wilde. I also have a cat. His name is VooDoo and he is a Norwegian Forest Cat--weighs 20 pounds and is skinny.
J'aime mes garcons...ils sont mes petits amis!

What brought you to your current job and what did you do before? I know you mentioned a British company and Rolls Royce...and rigging...tell me more about that.

What is your favorite book, music, and movie?
I checked out your poet by the way.

What is your favorite time of the day?
My favorite time is twilight, the light is the most beautiful then.

If I come to Montreal what would you show me? Where would you take me? What would you suggest I see and do alone?
What is your favorite thing to do or see there?
What will be my favorite thing?

An entire year of Happiness

2009-01-04T17:51:00.003-07:00

It snowed all night long and this morning my world is covered in a gloriously sparkly white blanket of fluffy snow. Oscar and I stopped off for a coffee and then wandered through the quite campus searching for snow fairies or squirrels. He loves the snow and pranced along through the drifts occasionally biting at the snow as he swiftly moved along. As we walked, I cleared my head of any random thoughts and simply allowed the experience of the emerging sun and the shimmering snow to wash over me. It was refreshing and cleansing in a way. It gave me a sense of clarity about my life.

It has been a particularly trying couple of weeks with the end of the semester, finals, and planning for next semester. At this level it is increasingly difficult to create a workable schedule as fewer classes are offered, if they are even offered, at fewer times. I have been waiting for two semesters for a required French class only to find out that it is not going to be offered again. Sometimes, I feel as though I am being held hostage by the college. Don’t get me wrong…I love going to school and learning but the bureaucracy is very difficult to navigate. I feel very fortunate to have this opportunity, especially since I am developing my own individualized degree, but it has been tricky.

I found out yesterday that my internship was approved. The internship guidelines and requirements are a lot more structured than I expected. I must submit a packet of 60 pages of details, goals, and objectives at the beginning along with weekly emails, a final report and a grading schematic from Aaron and from myself…Wow…I hope Aaron will do all of this, he said he would, but, things tend to fall along the wayside around the place. Now I have to negotiate with Aaron to ensure I am able to get enough hours and the kind of stability needed to successfully complete this obligation.

I know he will see it my way…I know I can make this happen. It seems I can make anything happen lately, I have to work at it, it always takes time, and it is always a test, but in the end it happens the way I want it to. I guess the biggest obstacle is knowing exactly what I want and what I need and then going after that and making that happen….so often it is easy to bring things in without really thinking it through. Focusing on a job or a man or a pair of shoes that turns out to be unfulfilling, painful, and just the wrong fit.

As I look at the sparkling snow and the glistening sun I know what I don’t want. I don’t want any unnecessary drama at work, with love, or at home. This is the year I will streamline my life, get exactly what I want, and be very, very happy. I can bring that in and make it happen just as easily as I can create more drama or unhappiness…I choose HAPPY.

Come quickly, I am drinking the stars…

2009-01-01T15:00:00.002-07:00

New Year’s Eve holds a certain magic for me. It is one of my favorite occasions. It is a new beginning and a fresh start. The trials and tribulations of the previous year simply dissolve into the past. Everything is left behind and washed away with a glass of champagne and a kiss at midnight. I love the symbolism, but mostly, I love the champagne.

I rang in the New Year at the Wine Loft. Perrier Jouët sponsored our celebration. Fleur de Champagne is the cuvee de tête by Perrier Jouët and one of my personal favorites. It is actually the reason I got into the wine business in the beginning. I fell in love with the wine. Founded in 1811 by lovers Nicholas Perrier and Adèle Jouët, the wine has become a symbol for romance and love. The champagne house was an instant success exporting their wine to England, America, and Russia where the heads of State and Royalty enjoyed the champagne. It was ever present on the table of Napolean III. In 1854 Perrier Jouët was the first to make the now favored Brut style. The beautiful bottles with hand painted anemone flowers by famed Art Noveau artist Emile Gallé were first introduced in 1902. The first vintage of La Belle Epoque as the Fleur is known in France, a Brut style, was the 1964 vintage. It was released in 1969. Perrier Jouët Fleur de Champagne Brut is a classic blend of Chardonnay, Pinot Noir, and Pinot Meunier. Perrier Jouët also makes Fleur de Champagne Rosé and the amazing Fleur de Champagne Blanc de Blancs which is pure Chardonnay.

I drank a few glasses of Fleur last night. The Fleur is the pinnacle of elegance and style in luxury champagnes. I love Dom Perignon and Tattinger but Fleur has my heart. The nose presents a very fine yet subtle perfume of freesia, gardenia, white rose petals, and ripe white peaches. On the palate the tiny, firm bubbles explode with luscious guava, pink grapefruit, lemon chiffon and a sprinkling of ginger. The acidity is well balanced with the body and flavor profile of the wine. It is truly exquisite.

My favorite wine salesman, Charles, brought a group of his friends in to drink champagne and celebrate. We drank a few glasses of the PJ Brut together. It was delicious. Perrier Jouët Brut is a lovely, feminine style champagne with fine, golden bubbles and a delicate nose of white flowers, spring blossoms, and peaches. The wine has a pronounced acidity that glides over your tongue with notes of crushed hazelnuts, apricots, green apples, and minerality. It pairs well with briny oysters, succulent mussels, caviar, and salty, golden, warm, french fries. Last night it paired really well with a champagne flute, a gorgeous man, and a kiss at midnight.

Taxi!

2008-12-24T22:08:00.001-07:00

Tonight, I was standing on the corner trying to hail a cab after I got off work just like I do every other night. I always walk the few blocks to Larimer to clear my head and shake off the day. Seven cabs just drove on past, one right after another. They were either in the wrong lane or going the wrong direction, or simply driving too fast to stop once they saw me. It was bitter cold, and the sky was hanging full of stars against a blackness that only comes in the dead of winter.

Across the street, parked in front of the Capital Grille restaurant, there was a beautiful, shiny, white, town car with a driver wearing a fedora. It was the kind of car that is for hire from a car service if you have cash or clout. The driver rolled down the window and gave me a smile. I smiled back and continued my search for a cab. Finally the driver yelled out to me, “Lady, do you need a ride?” I smiled and nodded my head yes. I asked him if he could leave his patron for a few minutes and what his fare was. He said, “On a night like tonight you’ll be trying to get a cab all night long, so get in.”

He was from Washington D.C. and recently moved to Denver to open his own car service company. He has a fleet of 30 cars ranging from Town Cars to Limos. He asked me where I was from. He said I didn’t look like a Denver girl and if he had to guess I was from the Big Apple. He said I had a certain style that you don’t see in Denver very often. I took that as a compliment. He said a big city girl in a small town needed a touch of the east coast now and then…He didn’t even charge me for the ride.

There are gentlemen in this city after all and the kindness of a stranger on a cold night can bring hope to a slightly cynical small town lady with a big city soul.

Pink champagne and gray skies

2008-12-01T19:36:00.002-07:00

It’s Thanksgiving 2008, and I am pondering my luck and my life. I feel incredibly thankful today. I have a wonderful little dog and cat whom I completely adore. I have a sound and supportive relationship with both of my parents. My mom spent the afternoon with me and my dad dropped by for a nice glass of wine and a chat. They got along….
I made a wonderful dinner. I made turkey breast and duck rolls stuffed with gorgonzola, chanterelle mushrooms, shallots, and wrapped in smoky bacon. I served them over fresh spinach and with fingerling potatoes drizzled with white truffle oil. I also served whipped yams with fresh ginger and coconut milk, spicy cranberries, and a lovely little cheese plate with a goat chevre and a smoked sheep san simon. My mom brought this amazing walnut and chocolate cake and pots au crème chocolat…delicious. We had this most amazing bottle of Gosset Reserve Rosé Champagne. Possibly one of the most fabulous wines I have ever had….mmmmm.
It was a beautiful day today. The kind I crave…the sky was hazy and gray diffusing the light in such a way that made everything look slightly violet and luminous. The air was cool and slightly humid. I imagine Paris looks and feels like this in late autumn. Oscar and I walked around for hours this morning. We met a new friend of mine for coffee on Larimer. He is a bit older than me, but a lot of fun. He grew up in Manhattan but likes living in Denver. He loves Clapton, traveling, fantastic cuisine, and pop culture. He walked with us and I could tell he just wanted to spend time with me. He seems a little bit sheepish and bashful which is unusual in a man of his age and stature. He seems like a really nice guy, and he has treated me like a lady, like a woman. I like it. It feels great.
I was telling my mom a little bit about him and mentioned that I am not really physically attracted to him and she said the most brilliant thing. “Maybe you should just forget about that physical thing, the gorgeous men you have dated have been nothing but trouble, and shallow, and it never works out anyway…maybe it is time to date a nice, and successful older man that adores you.”
Maybe she is right..(she is always right)..and I think I will consider it. He is really into me, thoughtful, considerate, and generous. Let’s see where it goes.

Love Letters

2008-11-12T09:49:00.002-07:00

I received an interesting little email the other day. Remember I told you about the beautiful firemen from Montreal? Claude and Yves?
I opened my email on Sunday morning after and incredibly busy and frustrating weekend at work and there, between work and spam was the name Yves. My heart skipped a beat. Could it be the same Yves. It wasn't the same email address I had written to in the past but not recently. Recently I had been too busy to even think about men...as sad and lonely as that sounds.

I took a risk and opened the letter. It was very brief and slightly cryptic. He apologized for being rude and for his silence. He told me his wife left him a few weeks prior to our encounter. He told me she left a financial mess for him. And then he told me he was in a hotel room in Albuquerque.

Intriguing. It stirred something inside me.

I wrote back, explaining that while I was taken aback by his silence, am very happy to hear from him now. I asked him what happened in his marriage and why he was in New Mexico....I invited him to keep in touch...

I have so many questions. Why email me at all? Why tell me you are just down the road (several hundred miles but still)?
I have not received another letter...Why?

European Rosé

2008-10-05T21:08:00.001-06:00

For me, September is a whirlwind tour of wine country. I go to daily wine tastings sometimes taste a hundred wines in one day. It can be wonderfully overwhelming and deliciously intoxicating. I must try to remember it is still work, it’s my job and I take it very seriously.

When I am tasting wines I am required to over think and analyze each and every wine I try. When I am relaxing with a nice glass of wine I still tend to analyze what is in the glass. Probably, the most enjoyable part of tasting wine is the wine and food pairing possibilities. I love to play with flavor and my senses to discover delectable and unique combinations. Over the course of the past several years I have developed a portfolio of pairings that seem to work regardless of vintage, region, and season.
I will share seasonal suggestions and wine and food pairings with you.

As for September, here in Denver, the days are still quite warm and dry and the nights cool down. The leaves on the trees are beginning to turn gorgeous hues of yellow, orange, and even plumy red. Late summer flowers like marigolds, mums, petunias, and roses are in full bloom. It’s not quite full bodied, earthy, pungent red wine weather. I compromise this time of year with full flavored, medium bodied, European Rosé. Some European Rosé can be musty, herbal, and woodsy along with showing nice ripe red berries and fruits. They can really represent what early fall means, right in the glass. These wines make an excellent choice for drinking cocktail style or pairing with your favorite representations of the harvest’s bounty. Foods like roasted root vegetables, squash, onions gratin, corn on the cob slathered in butter and sprinkled with garlic and pepper, or even a simple roasted chicken with red potatoes and crunchy green beans all taste better with European Rosé.

Table Seventeen

2008-08-17T14:36:00.001-06:00

“I fell in love with a French Canadian fireman this week,” I gushed as soon as she answered the telephone.
“Oh la la, do tell, where did you meet him, and how in the hell did that happen? I just talked to you a few days ago!”

It happens that there were 20,000 international firemen in Denver this week for a conference. Yummy, right? On Tuesday night, I was working at the Wine Loft, this very cool and very new wine bar in LoDo on Wazee Street. Not much action save for a few ladies drinking Vinho Verde on the patio in the sun. It was a beautiful afternoon.

The Wine Loft just opened on Saturday. It is an elegant wine bar. The floor plan is wide open and it looks a bit like a grown up living room with subdued golden bronzy walls, sheer bronze drapery, and plush brown couches from ZGallerie. The space is littered with gilded mirrors and illuminated with candles. It is truly beautiful. We offer a delectable menu of haute cuisine small plates and nearly 200 different wines are on the diverse list. I really enjoy working there. I am assisting in the creation and expansion of the wine list. It’s been a great experience for me. I love, love, love wine.

Around dinner time two distinguished gentlemen walked in and sat at table 17. As I walked over to greet them I could hear them speaking in French. “Great,” I thought, “Good looking and French…I’m in trouble.”

I turned out they were from Montreal, in Denver for the firemen conference, and were looking for a good bite to eat and a great glass of wine when they stumbled upon the Wine Loft. They stayed for hours and we talked about wine, food, and French. They prompted me to speak with them in French but I became intimidated as usual and reverted to English. The few phrases I attempted were met with patience and with praise. I really appreciated that. They told me a little bit about their week and I told them a little bit about mine. They would be sight seeing and going out on the town during their free time. I would be in classes and working on Thursday, Friday, and on Saturday. They said they might stop back by. And they did.

They came in on Thursday for a bit to eat after attending the Breckenridge Brewery Beer Festival with a group of comrades. They were not into the burger and beer thing so they came in for some “real food” and good wine. Table 17 again. I was busy that night and didn’t wait on them but I did have occasion to stop by and chat a bit. They visited Boulder and Golden but didn’t make it to Estes or Red Rocks. I learned that Yves is a fan of mountain biking and wants to bring his bike to tackle some of our finest trails. I told him that Lance Armstrong just competed in a race in Leadville. He was impressed. We talked about snow and the climate differences in Quebec and Colorado. Claude gave me several suggestions for the menu and the websites for two prominent Canadian Sommeliers. One is traditional and one is avant garde. During our conversation I could feel chemistry building amongst the three of us and I was not sure exactly where it was stemming from. Was it Claude or was it Yves. Both men were vying for my attention and both were getting it. We said our good byes and I exchanged business cards with them…just in case I get to Montreal to see the autumn colours…I knew they had dinner plans with the Korean delegation on Friday and wanted to come in afterward. The evening was out of their control.

On Friday, it rained all day and was only 60˚F; which for August in Colorado is rather unheard of. I love the rain and gray days give me energy and make me very happy. I had a meeting with three wine reps at the Wine Loft and drank a lovely bottle of Perrier Jouet Fleur de Champagne with them. After my meeting I treated myself to a nice dinner at Crepes et Crepes. I wandered back to work around 7:00 pm. Downtown was empty. It was still pouring rain and the Wine Loft was quiet. A few friends of the bartender were sitting at the bar but the house was empty.

I was very surprised to see them walk in early; at 7:30 pm dressed in suits and looking gorgeous. Mmm I’m smitten…but, with Yves or with Claude? Claude is taller and brawnier. He has chocolate brown eyes and graying hair. He has a boyish smile and has a direct and intense personality. Very good looking. If I had to guess I’d say he is a Scorpio. He is definitely the talker and commands more attention. He is the Director of Operations for the Quebec Fire Department Academy based in Montreal. He is 41 years old. He used to play keyboard in rock and jazz bands and he hopes to again. He gave me an official Quebec Fire Department pin. He knows his wine and loves to share his point of view.

Yves is more unassuming, not as tall and thinner. He has soft blue eyes, dark blond hair and an enchanting smile. He is more gentile and a bit shy. He is the one who tried to get me to speak French and asked me questions about myself. He is the Coordinator of Programs for the Q.F.D.A. He is new to his position. He just sits back and watches the conversation flow. He participates when he has something important to contribute…a Libra maybe. He taught me the proper way to present a toast…with held eye contact, and meaning. He commented on the U.S. habit of avoiding direct eye contact and touching. Claude agreed. Claude won’t call us Americans because Canadians and Mexicans are technically Americans too. Interesting. Yves was a rigger for concerts and rides a Triumph. Sexy. He was attentive and there was a pleasant surprise on his face when he learned I too ride a motorcycle. He commented that I am quite a woman. He kissed me on the cheek when he left, and he invited me to come to Montreal.

They left Denver on Saturday and that evening at the Wine Loft there was an emptiness in the room. Table 17 was lonely for guests. Every time I walked by I noticed a sad little smile on my face as I felt the presence of the two men in my heart. I felt a certain longing to talk with them and see their smile and hear their voices immersed in a conversation in a language I am only beginning to understand. I think they stole my heart when they left.

the most fabulous clothes in Denver

2008-07-25T21:50:00.002-06:00

There is a clothing trend in Denver that is everywhere and it seems as though every girl wears it. Day and night, summer and winter…I call it the “Going Out Outfit.” It begins with too tight, low rise, dark wash, boot cut jeans paired with chunky heels in the summer or black boots in the winter. It is always topped off with a jewel toned, sparkly, cotton camisole or a sequined, jersey knit baby doll that conceals the tummy and the over-hang that occurs with the low rise of the jeans. In the winter some girls add a little sweater or a cardigan to the look. It can be a nice look, except everyone ends up looking the same.
The “Going Out Outfit” look is simple and requires very little thought or planning and it fits with the busy lifestyle of the Denverite woman. Add a cool necklace, perfectly highlighted and blown out hair, and she is ready to go out on the town with her girls. I see ladies of all ages wearing the “Going Out Outfit.”
It seems like everyone shops at the same two or three stores: Banana Republic, Bébé, and Arden B. Most stores carry very similar lines with subtle color and cut variations. Banana is the most conservative and Bébé, and Arden B carry nightclub attire that some people try to translate into business or daywear. Even if people shop at department stores or discount stores the clothes all look the same. Why bother even looking at Vogue when it’s all pre-selected for you anyway?
And then, once in a while, I see a lady with a sense of style all her own. She may be pretty, or just interesting, but she definitely stands out from the crowd. She may be a girl that travels the world and shops as she goes, picking up uniquely fantastic pieces when she finds them. Or, maybe, she has a secret little shop in Denver where the selection is an amazing array of famous designer lines and up-and-coming trendsetters. What ever her secret…she is the girl to study.
There is a little boutique tucked away in Cherry Creek North just like this. Garbarini at 3003 East Third is an oasis of style in a sea of trends. The original Garbarini was a beautiful little shoe store on my favorite street-Larimer Square that started over twenty years ago. It has evolved and expanded many times over the years and in its latest incarnation it is truly a haven for beautiful, timeless yet chic clothing, jeans, and shoes. Garbarini has the coolest selection of shoes, belts, bags, and other accessories of any boutique in Cherry Creek. The selection of classic business wear is the best I have seen in Denver. Nothing in the store looks stuffy, matronly, or boring. The clothes are modern and fashionable without being merely trendy. The styles are timeless, feminine, and most importantly, they are beautiful on just about any chic woman.
Garbarini carries classic Euro style as well as modern American designers. Designers found at Garbarini include Ya Ya, Jon, Plein Sud,  Vertigo,  Alvin Valley,  Nicole Miller, Cynthia Vincent, Pons Quintana, Old Gringo, Donald Pliner, and  Gianni Bravo...the list goes on.
On a recent shopping spree during the famous Cherry Creek Sidewalk Sale, I found a beautiful pair of hand made Donald Pliner, distressed lacquer pumps in an amazing shade of copper marked down from $335 to $49. I came away with a pair of Claudia Ciuti black and white patent spectator booties also marked down to $49. I found a black and tan, polka dot, chiffon wrap blouse by BCBG Max Azria for $29, and a summer weight, grey wool fitted jacket by Alvin Valley that was $500; I got it for $49. I paid $29 for a great pair of black wool trousers by Jenne Maac. I also bought a gorgeous silver linen skirt by Jon that was $300 for $49 and a blue and white linen tank by Majestic Paris priced at $100 for $15. My favorite steal is a cocoa coloured, featherweight cashmere sweater marked down to $15. It is deliciously soft. I wish it wasn’t 97 degrees today because I am dying to wear it! This incredible sale happens twice a year and the deals are unbeatable.
I have every piece I have ever purchased at Garbarini and I can still wear them. They are well constructed and timeless; always appropriate. Every time I wear a piece I receive compliments and approving looks. Everyone wants to know where I shop. I look like a million dollars, and, I feel like a European movie star when ever I wear my Garbarini collection.
http://www.garbarinishop.com/

What is wrong with Married Men

2008-07-07T13:40:00.006-06:00

I am not sure what it is about married men, but; they have a thing for me. In the past two years I have unknowingly attracted a whole string of them. I never seek them out and I am not the type of girl to settle for seconds. I may have unconventional views of marriage and monogamy but I’d never force them on another married couple.

When I get into a flirtation with a man the second question I ask them is, “Are you married?” They always respond with a “No,” or something along the lines of “I’m separated,” or “We are getting divorced,” or my all time favorite, “My wife just doesn’t understand me anymore.” One man actually said, “Why couldn’t I have met you while I was still single?”
Let’s see, there have been the Wine Maker, the Italian, the Ball Player, the Chef, and most recently the middle-aged Barista. One thing they all have in common is that they are all in their forties or fifties.

This cute couple always came into the wine store to buy a bottle of Italian red for him and Jack Daniels for her. They were happy, friendly, and interesting. They seemed made for each other. The man is half Italian and his long time, live in girlfriend is one of the sweetest ladies I’ve ever met. A year ago, in the spring he started to come in alone to make their purchases. I’d always ask about her, and how they were doing. He’d always ask me about my studies. I study at work when it’s slow. Apparently, she traveled frequently for her job. As it turned out, his daughter was in one of my classes. He was very impressed that I maintain a 4.0 GPA and I work full time. I guess the daughter doesn’t pull those kinds of grades.

We became friends; talking about hopes and dreams and the future. He wants to travel through Italy and see where his family comes from. He is a cyclist. I suggested he give winery/cycling tours through Italian wine country. I thought he was a great guy; friendly, caring, interested, but involved and in love with his girlfriend….so I immediately put him into the friend category. We talked about the demise of my last relationship and all of the lies and deception I went through. I began to trust him.

When the semester was over he offered to take me to lunch to celebrate my good grades and a much-needed break. We went around the corner to a little place for an alfresco lunch late one afternoon after I got off from work. He was so easy to talk to and we had everything in common. After lunch he walked me to my car, and then he kissed me. I was shocked and very put off by the kiss. I didn’t know what to think. I got in my car and simply drove away.

I didn’t hear from him for a few days. When he did stop by the store he apologized for surprising me with the kiss. I asked about his girlfriend. He said, “We are probably breaking up, and she has accepted a job in Detroit. She is moving there and I am not going to go with her...My life and my family are here...” After a moment, he said, “I’d really like to see you again, will you go out on a real date with me?” I told him I’d think about it and gave him my number. We went out that Saturday night and there were definitely sparks.

We went out for three months. We went for dinner at Via, and for drinks at Samba and the Cruise Room. All summer long we wandered the streets of LoDo hand in hand and made out like teenagers at the DCPA. We were both enchanted. I was beginning to fall for him. We had very hot sex all over his loft; on the kitchen counter, in the living room, in the bedroom, up against the wall...We had long, heartfelt conversations about our dreams, hopes, interests, lives, and our ex’s. The conversation quickly became a “we” conversation. He told me he was falling in love with me and that they were over. Then, one day…he told me that he and the soon to be ex-girlfriend were going to Mexico for a week on a vacation that they had planned before the break-up. I was upset and didn’t understand why anyone would go on vacation with their ex even if it was already paid for.

A few weeks later, after nothing from him, She walked in the store. I was definitely surprised to see her but used my acting chops to cover it up and muster the courage to ask her how she had been. She told me she had been in Detroit for two months working on a contract and that she was so thrilled to be home…

As soon as she left I called the cheating, lying bastard and told him that his lovely girlfriend and I just had a fabulous conversation and she told me everything I needed to know about him. Immediately I stopped calling him and wouldn’t accept his calls. I told him to leave me alone. What a complete jerk. I now realize that he lied to me over and over just to use me for a hot, summer fling. He knew how badly I had been hurt by lying and cheating in my last relationship and he was angery with my ex for treating me that way, but, the entire time we were together he was lying to me as well. That is evil.

Over the last year he still comes into the store and flirts with me and asks me out on the occasional date. He still tells me how enchanted he is, how beautiful and sexy I am, and how much he wants to be with me. He still tries to kiss me. And, until yesterday, it was so hard to resist him. But now, I see him for who he really is. ( A few months ago I ran into her in the park and she told me she is going to Australia for a month this summer.) Like clock work he came to see me the minute she left.

Two days ago, he came by my work and had big tears in his eyes and I could tell he was miserable. He told me he missed me and fumbled around with his words. He told me I looked amazing, elegant and beautiful, and that he couldn’t resist me anymore. He asked me to lunch the following day, which was yesterday. I accepted his invitation and thought to myself, “This is the perfect time to tell the Italian bastard off once and for all.”

Just as I was getting ready to walk out the door for our lunch he called:
“I don’t think we should have lunch today.”

“Why.” I asked, casually.

“Because you entice me, and intrigue me, and you are so sexy that you scare me.”

“What is so scary about me?”

“I want you and I shouldn’t, I don’t know what to do, but we can’t have lunch.”

“Ok, no problem, but, then you need to stop seeking me out, and coming to see me, and calling me. I am never seeking you out. You need to leave me alone.”

“Ok, (followed by a very long pause) are you sure?”

“Oh yes, yes, and you need to delete my number from your phone.” I replied very calmly.

And with that I deleted the Italian from my life. What makes him think that I deserve to be jerked around like that? It was the lies that killed it. Had he been honest things would be different. What makes him think that I don’t deserve more than that? Is it because I am sensual, and sexy, and understanding, and compassionate? Am I just that unattainable wildfire that every man fantasies about but doesn’t have the courage to be with? I guess I will never know. My only question now is, “What in the hell is wrong with married men?”

Assaulted at Work

2008-06-30T18:20:00.003-06:00

On May 1, 2008, I walked into at the restaurant on 17th and Wazee where I am a hostess and was immediately told by a co-worker that George Mitrovich was coming in and he wasn’t going to be happy. He is some hideous, self-important, aging, former politico who heads up the Denver Forum. He regularly holds little dinner meetings at the restaurant. He is widely known in the restaurant industry for terrorizing staff members. He makes servers cry and unleashes his venom upon anyone that doesn’t submit to his control. He is actually banned from the Oxford Hotel due to his obnoxiously rude behavior which is directed toward staff.

“Lovely,” I thought, “and I get to deal with him.”
I looked at the reservation board and discovered the source of our problems. George is used to getting “his” room and the Catering Department booked a different party in the room. McCormick’s has several side rooms which can be booked for private events for a fee. George never pays the fee and just expects to get “his” room. Nine times out of ten it is available but that night it wasn’t. I had the busser/table setter person set up a table for George in the Plum Room.

The room George expects is called the Governor’s Room. When George arrived the other party was already occupying the Governor’s room. I was in the kitchen when George arrived and a server showed him to his table. I caught his eye as I briskly walked past the entry way to the room. I could tell he was fuming mad. The telephone was ringing and I had guests waiting but George didn’t care. He rudely motioned for me to join him in the Plum Room. He said, “This is not going to work, we have a serious problem here.” I explained to him that the other group paid for their reservation in advance and it was out of my control. I offered to get a manager for him. He walked toward me and said, “I am extremely unhappy, and you are going to get the brunt of it.” As he said it, he thumped me so hard on the chest three times that he left red marks. Shocked, I stepped back away from him and told him there was nothing I could do and suggested he speak to a manager. He kept talking at me and his vicious words took on a louder tone. By now there was a line at the door and all three phone lines were ringing. I told George that I had to get back to my job and he quipped, “You just don’t care about me at all, fine, fine, just go…”

As I got to the host stand, my ‘Manager on Duty’ finally waltzed by and I urgently motioned for him to attend to George. I carried on with my job. Moments later George slinked up to the Host Stand and said to me, “I hate to be argumentative. We are all friends here,”
I interrupted him with, “If you hate to be argumentative then don’t argue with me. You are not very friendly when you are yelling at me.”
He looked astonished and replied, “If I were yelling at you, you’d know it.”
I replied, “No, George, when you are yelling at me you should know it.”
At that he crouched down, put his face very near mine, and sneered at me, “You’d better watch yourself.” Then he turned on a dime and stormed off.

One of my co-workers noticed I was visibly upset and asked me what happened. I told him everything. He went into the kitchen and told the other manager and the chef. The chef came out immediately to see if I was ok and find out exactly what happened. The managers did nothing; they did not escort him out or even reprimand him for his behavior. They allowed me to be assaulted and threatened for the price of a dinner.

I couldn’t sleep that night. I knew my managers were not going to take care of the problem as they had said they would. I called my friend the D.A and asked his advice. He convinced me to press charges so I called the police and gave them my statement.

Days later, my General Manager apologized to me for what happened and the Director of Catering tried to sweep it under the rug. She said, “You just don’t know George. He is just like that.” She also tried to get me to drop the charges, at one point saying, “George has spent 40 years building his reputation.” To which I curtly replied, “So have I.”

Over the past two months I have never been contacted by the City Attorney’s office until this week. Victims’ Advocacy did call me twice to tell me the case was continued. Ms. Smith, from the City Attorney’s Office called today and wanted to hear my side of the story. I told her the short version and although she finds his behavior appalling and reprehensible, she doesn’t think she can get the charges to stick. Obviously, assault and threats are not important to the City of Denver.

The bastard is going to get away with his nasty behavior again. He has a free pass and I have anxiety and insomnia. She said touching is not illegal, and I said to her, “It wasn’t polite touching; it was aggressive assault at my place of employment followed by a threat.” I asked her how she would feel and she agreed that she would not feel very good about it or about her work if that happened to her. I also expressed my grave disappointment in being completely let down by the system which is supposed to protect the victim but all too often, and in this case, protects the criminal.

Ms. Smith did suggest that my employer is at fault for not protecting me and the rest of the staff from this man and for not stepping up and escorting him from the restaurant when he did assault me. His previous bad behavior is a very strong indicator of his current and future disposition to bad behavior. She suggested contacting the EEOC and an attorney about a civil suit and damages. I tend to agree with her. I feel as though I set up for this situation, thrown to the wolf, and made out to be the bad guy. The way they let it happen, George would be angry with me, take it all out on me, and not be angry with the managers or the catering department who gave away “his” room.

To Fly or Not To Fly

2008-06-29T10:45:00.000-06:00

The D. A. called me last night at 7 pm to confirm that we are going to go flying and then to lunch on Sunday. He has a small plane and a passion for flying. When we were dating a year ago I asked him to take me up. He never did. He is very good-looking and very good on paper with his big law degree and his important job. A year ago I thought we had a spark.

I went to a wedding with him last weekend after months of zero contact. He called out of the blue, and I thought it might be fun to get dressed up for the evening. I was mainly in it for the cake and the dancing. He wanted a pretty girl on his arm and to feel me up. We were almost late and he had to drive like a crazy man.

The wedding was nice, at the botanical gardens. It was a young couple, too young to be getting married. The groom was the son of his work out partner. The ceremony was short and sweet. The reception was inside a large tent with air conditioning, passed hors d’ouvres, a simple buffet, and cheap wine. He is an extremely picky eater, to the point of being rude. “I don’t eat mayonnaise, or anything with mayonnaise in it, or anything fermented, or anything with cheese, I don’t like fruit or vegetables…and I don’t like this or that.” How embarrassing. “Can I have some dried out, plain chicken and bland steamed veggies without any flavor or life left in them…” I guess some people never learned to be gracious and polite.

The band was a great little blues and country cover band. They were showmen and really knew how to work the crowd. It was the high point of the evening for me. After the first dance, the dance floor was packed with young and old people having fun. He wouldn’t even dance with me so I danced alone with all the other disappointed ladies. After the wedding cake was cut we left. I barely had a chance to have a bite of my cake. It was only 9:30 pm. The wedding started at 7 pm. He was tired from kayaking all day. Great, I felt I’d dressed up for nothing.

At the wedding he asked me to go flying with him the next weekend and I told him I’d think about it. He said he’d take me to lunch, like real a date. Friday evening when he called to confirm our date he said I'd have to meet him at the airport because he HAS to go kayaking straight from the airport and there will be no lunch, and we can only fly for an hour.....
Moments later he asked me to dinner. I was walking my dog and I'd just eaten a bowl of lime gelazzi, Oscar had vanilla. Nothing like waiting until the absolute last minute. It always feels like his other plans fell through when he calls me and I am the last minute, backup girl.

Should I go flying or should I delete him from my life? (I actually know the answer to that question.) From his actions I know that we are not and will never be in a real relationship, or even be friends. It seems he only wants physical affection, but, only once in awhile, and when he has nothing and no one else to do. But, when we are together he is affectionate and seems interested. He said he wants to take me to Paris for a week in the spring. He thinks he is very skilled at his game but it is actually completely transparent.

So, he called me an hour before I was supposed to leave for the airport to ask for a rain check. I had no intention of going to the airport. He was busy the day and night before and didn’t get enough sleep, blah, blah, blah. He asked, “Can you reschedule for next weekend?”

“No. I have plans.” With a roll of my eyes.

“How about during the week, are you free in the morning?”

“No. I don’t think so, I work and school is starting in a week, I am really busy.”

“Well, can you at least go to dinner with me this week.”

“No. I am busy all week.” Thinking to myself…I have to clean my house, do laundry, wash my hair, and spend time with my dog and my cat.

“Ok, well, I’m gonna call you and ask you out, it was really great to see you the other night and hold you in my arms for a minute…” (Which is man code for I’m horny and you’re a warm body!)

I hung up the phone. He hasn’t called. I guess I will hear from him in a few months when he has some B-list event and can’t find a date.
Too bad, I won’t be answering my phone next time.

My crazy dating life

2008-06-28T10:22:00.000-06:00

I seriously have the strangest dating life of anyone I know. In the span of two years I have managed to attract a fine mix of men. I am not going to use their real names here but to anyone who knows me knows that these titles are very transparent.

The District Attorney (D.A.)
Very nice looking man. He is 54 years old, which I agree is too old for me, but, he is physically active and fairly sharp. He is a classic narcissist and very arrogant. He was fun in the beginning. He has a jazz show on Tuesday nights. He is a pilot (small planes) a kayak fanatic, and way too athletic. He is always nursing some injury. We dated a few years ago but he is so completely unavailable in every way that I finally just lost interest. He still calls me now and then for dinner or some B-list event.

The Wine Maker
Not really my type at all but he makes great wine. He is short, plump and balding with a girly Southern accent. I wanted him as a mentor and he offered to be one. He is from Texas and lives in Northern California where he has been making wine for thirty years. He told me he was separated from is non-understanding, bitchy, wife and she lives in Southern Cal. He asked me to dinner twice and canceled both times at the last minute. His wife was recently stalking me via hate email.

The Professional Baseball Player
I met him in the wine store and began to sell him a vast amount of high-end wine via mail order. He played for the San Diego Padres when I met him and ended up retiring as a member of the Los Angeles Dodgers, after a very successful twenty years playing the game. He told me he was divorced from his model wife because she wanted to raise the kids in Florida and he was transferred to California. He hated her…it was something about a major contract and millions of dollars that she has cost him. We went on a handful of dates. Then his wife intercepted a wine order bill and called me about it…they were obviously still very much together.

The Italian
This guy was a patron of the store. He and his girlfriend have been living together for ten years and she helped him raise his three children. His daughter and I are friends. We had a class together. He is 45 years old. He is a cyclist. He is cute, funny, and usually very light hearted. He is going through a small mid-life crisis. He is, unfortunately, very charming and has many of the qualities I am looking for in a man so it was easy for me to become involved with him. We dated for several months last summer when I thought he was newly single. We shared our dreams and inspired each other. You will get the full story later.

The Spy
This guy was intriguing. He works as a “Spy” for the Department of Defense. We talked about conspiracy theories and went on one very nice date at Venice. He thanked me over and over for the date, and the new restaurant experience, and made quick follow up call for a second date the next day. Never went on the second date and never heard from him again.

The Barista
This married man works at the Market, my favorite café on Larimer Square. We’ve always been friendly and chat whenever I am there. He is a musician so we have that to talk about. He is so not my type; short, chubby, late forties, and he works in a coffee shop. Lately, he has been very flirty. He does landscaping and I gave him my number months ago so he could refer me to a great backyard fountain and Koi pool guy. He won’t stop calling me. He said, “Why couldn’t I have met you when I was single.”
I haven’t been going in for my morning coffee and today when I stopped in for an espresso he gave me the cold shoulder and tried to charge me double. I laughed and left the coffee sitting there as I walked out the door.

The Chef
Heavy flirtation at work with the chef, who told me he is not married and not happy, and only lives with her because she has nowhere else to go…I believe him. I will write more about him later. He is very unhappy at home. But, clean that up before you ask me out. Granted, the restaurant business is laden with constant sexual innuendo and major flirting. Most of the people in the business are hooking up and trading partners on a regular business. It’s a little twisted. But, it can make the work more interesting.

The Kid
After months of being asked out by this young guy I finally went on one date. It was little awkward and I had to lead the conversation. He is a cutie but just not very cosmopolitan. He never called or talked to me again, and made me pay for my dinner. He lives above the wine store so I see him almost every day. He always smiles when he sees me.

The Pilot
My first and only foray into the world of online and long distance dating. He and I carried on by email and telephone for three weeks. There was too much great connection and I felt it was somehow…fake. He became very mean with me and tried to suck me into a twisted mind game. He tried to make me feel like I am less than and bad about myself. Psychotic. He quickly turned out to be very strange, controlling and mean. I ended it and as it ended up; he is was Dom and there is absolutely NOTHING submissive about me! Eew! What is wrong with people?

Chocolate Soufflé and Dancing

2008-06-21T14:03:00.001-06:00

Last Thursday night, after a busy night at work, my boss invited me out for a glass of wine and dessert. We went down the block to Sullivan’s. I’d never been there before and did not realize there was a happening bar with live music. He must go there after work all the time because everyone knew him and our drinks were on the house. The bar is nice, on the small side with 20 or so cabaret style tables. It is a classic 1940’s Chicago style steak house with dark, polished wood, red banquets, and dim lighting. “Steaks, Martini’s, & Jazz” is their hook.

Several large, muted televisions were hanging on the wall displaying the professional basketball finals. The crowd was an eclectic mix of off duty suits relaxing with martinis, neighborhood locals drinking beer and wine, and restaurant industry personnel drinking whatever the bartender was sending their way.

I had a wonderful Spanish Grenache and he had some sort of whisky rocks. We ordered a yummy chocolate soufflé. It was fantastically warm and light. It was delicately scented with cocoa. There was an elixir of creamy warm vanilla syrup drizzled all over it. Just enough decadent lushness for two…if you are on a fabulously romantic date…I wasn’t.

There was a fantastic band playing called Tito del Barrio Malaga. They are at Sullivan’s on Tuesdays and Thursdays and worth your time. I’m not exactly sure how to classify their sound. It’s this cool mix of Latin Salsa and Moroccan world beat. …
Even the music on break was a great little mix of Motown and Chicago Blues. Very nice, very easy, and very dance-able.

La vie de mon chien

2008-06-21T10:20:00.002-06:00

If you have a dog in Denver it’s almost as if you are a member of an exclusive club, and inner circle so to speak. I call these people the café group. On Saturday and Sunday mornings they are found filling up every street side café, coffee bar, breakfast joint, and restaurant scattered across Denver. Dogs are unofficially welcome on most restaurant patios and many downtown boutiques.

I take my little dog, Oscar, nearly everywhere with me. On Sunday mornings we walk across Auraria Campus, along the Cherry Creek path to Confluence Park and back to Larimer Square. It takes about an hour and by the time we get to The Market we both need a drink. I have a cappuccino and Oscar takes part in the communal doggie water bowl. He doesn’t really like to share his bowl with other dogs.

Larimer And Writer’s Squares, between 14th and 16th on Larimer Street, are the prettiest areas in downtown Denver. They are lined with original buildings dating back to the birth of Denver in the 1800’s. The squares are filled with cool restaurants, boutiques, galleries, and the occasional nightclub.

The Market has been on Larimer Square for nearly 30 years. It is a European style café and deli with a great coffee bar. The food is kind of like the food your grandmother would have prepared for your summer family reunion…the ultimate comfort picnic food. They have a large sandwich board and the baristas make cappuccinos with the swirly foam art on top. Very pretty. There are always stacks of New York Times or magazines to read, and the people watching is fantastic. There is an intellectual cosmopolitan edge to the clientele. Now that downtown is brimming with residents the Market has a more prenentious slant that comes with baby boomer wealth, than it had in the past. It used to be intellectual and artistic seedy. I loved it, and I still do…but, it is different.

Oscar and I walk the by Market a few times a week for a coffee and on Sundays we sit and watch the people and watch the world go by.

Style

2008-06-07T13:06:00.000-06:00

Style has nothing to do with trend following or what is hot…but it has everything to do with fashion. That may sound contradictory but it isn’t. Style is classic, timeless, and universal, but always with an edge or and unexpected twist. The most stylish women always take something classic and make it unique to them.

Trends come and go relatively quickly. They are modified and recycled every few years. Unfortunately, you can’t really hold on to something trendy in the hopes it will come back because when it does, it’s never quite the same and what you kept always looks dated. Trends rarely look great on anyone over the age of 28 and over a size 6. Trends are for youth, and are the segue into the world of fashion, and that’s where trends should stay. They are not realistic, well made, or comfortable. They are not built to last and that’s ok. A trend is ready made, pre-packaged, exactly what the glossy magazine page depicts tight down to the styled bracelet, shoes and bag. Trends take all of the thinking out of dressing and everyone ends up looking alike. It takes a certain girl to follow trends, and she is usually rich, young, beautiful, and bored.

It is said that style is something you are born with but maybe it’s not. Everyone knows Audrey Hepburn had amazing personal style but she also had Hubert de Givenchy dressing her. Jackie O was also known for her style, created by Oleg Cassini who along with Edith Head, costume designer for MGM, also styled Grace Kelly. Catherine Deneuve was the muse of Yves Saint Laurent. Now, I agree that these women all had remarkable if not slightly similar, and obviously conservative style, but, what about the ladies with a bit more flair and personality?

Iconic European stars of the 50’s, 60’s and 70’s like Sophia Loren, Brigitte Bardot, Simone Signoret, and Fanny Ardent, and modern girls like Monica Belucci, Catherine Zeta Jones, Julie Delpy, and Marion Colitard are all wonderful examples of sexy and stylish women. There is nothing cold and untouchable about these women. They are earthy, sultry, gorgeous, and intoxicating.

Choosing the right style icon for your personality is the key. I love the classic beauties but I don’t have ice princess looks or personality. For me, I look to the sensual, European sex symbols for inspiration. These ladies make the most of their curves by wearing tightly belted full skirts, frilly little tops and high heels, or fitted, dark, boot-cut jeans with a pretty blouse and sandals. Their clothes are simple, feminine, and understated. These women have relatively small wardrobes of very high quality and timeless clothing. They personalize their look with fabulous, high quality accessories. They wear unique and well-placed jewelry, beautiful purses, scarves, and fantastic shoes. They have sunglasses perched on top of their heads holding back their long, flowing, wavy, locks of glossy hair.

Something else about stylish women—they always tend to be just slightly overdressed for any situation. They stand out because they pay close attention to every detail. They feel beautiful, confident, and sexy because they take the time and effort to look amazing everyday. It’s easy for a superstar with access to all the great designers and personal stylists. The rest of use must try to cultivate our own style. Which is, by the way, what really turns heads when you strut across the room.

The best place to be SINGLE in America

2008-05-30T13:53:00.000-06:00

What is it about dating these days? I just don't understand standing someone up. Is it so difficult to pick up your celly or blackberry and give me a call or at the bare minimum--send a text..."Sorry babe, I'm not going to make it." I mean, everyone has some form of communication technology strapped to their body like a stylish tracking device.

Denver has been voted the "Best Place in America to be Single" by Forbes magazine off and on for ten years. I often have to translate that title for my single girlfriends. It means: “Denver is the best place to be SINGLE.” This is man-speak. It is utterly clear and without hidden meaning. We ladies often misconstrue the actual meaning by over analyzing it, but it is blatantly clear.

We ladies hear, “Denver is the best place for DATING or for landing a relationship,” but it’s not. It’s the best place to be single. Look around, all you will see are groups of single people hanging out together in bars, cafés, the park, or just about anywhere. Right now, at my favorite café there are two tables of single girls chatting loudly about men while at a table a few feet away there is a table of single guys talking about Guitar Hero.

My Barista friend, Scott, agrees. Denver is the worst place for dating because no one ever makes a connection. No one has to. It’s built in to the culture here to remain single for as long as possible. There is just so much you can do alone or with your friends.

Denver has fantastic weather. It’s sunny, warm, and everyone wants to be outside rollerblading, cycling, rock climbing, or kayaking in the summer and skiing or snow boarding in the winter. These are all solitary activities even when done en masse. Just how much connection do you establish by dangling a rope down a cliff to someone?

When a possible connection is made and I accept an invitation for a real date I often find myself swirling my cappuccino and making small talk as he checks his text messages. That is, if he even shows up.

On this particular evening, I was planning on having a little drink with this sexy guy I work with. I’ve always had a strict “no dating at work” rule, but it has been forever and we have been flirting like crazy for months. He asked me out for a drink thing and I agreed to meet him. He is a great kisser. Every now and then he will grab me unexpectedly and kiss me with such passion that it takes my breath away. Always in some empty room or in the downstairs storage area…where we could be caught at any moment. Very sexy.

Well, I waited for twenty minutes sipping on a cool glass of rosé. He never showed up, and he never called. He blew it. The next night at work he gave me the big “I’m sorry” eyes but he didn’t have a valid reason. He “got scared…I’m too sexy…and blah, blah, blah.” Then he said, “Let’s go out next weekend.” I just shrugged my shoulders and walked away. It’s too bad; he is a really great kisser.

I learned a long time ago after years of dating, that the behavior on and around the first date is a pretty good indicator of the entire relationship. If someone doesn’t respect my time or me, they don’t get a second chance. But, that is just dating in Denver. Is romance worth it?

My cappuccino is drained and I am sipping a glass of wine, sitting in the window of my favorite café watching the world go by. I am looking at one of Denver’s trendiest streets watching the pairings of people scurrying here and there all dressed up but looking stressed and annoyed. I wonder why I want to jump back into the dating game. They don’t look happy or in love, they look bored and obligated. And then they walk by. That perfect couple. They are effortlessly in love and it shows. Neither one is over or under dressed. They are not trying too hard. They are not all over each other as if to prove something or for attention. When they do touch, how ever lightly, I can almost see the sparks their contact with each other creates. When they look at one another, it is like witnessing rapture and a passion that burns not only within them but flows into the entire room over all of us. The temperature of the room seems to rise slightly. I can feel a slight fever within me as I sit on the edge of my seat in anticipation of their next move. It is difficult not to stare at them. It makes me remember a time when I was swept up into my lover’s arms and kissed so deeply that it made me tremble…and then I remember why I want to date again.

I will continue to date, and be stood up, or disappointed, or left wondering why he never called because the passion in my soul is like a wildfire. I am sure most men are unsure if they want to risk being burned or consumed by that fire. I pour the rest of my wine into a paper coffee cup and I walk to the train. I just want to crawl into my warm bed with my dog on one side and my cat on the other and dream about passion.

What "Live from Denver" is all about

2008-04-30T21:18:00.000-06:00

This is a site for those of us who want more out of life. We have grown up a little bit and are tired of the club scene. We are finished with trying to have a conversation over blaringly loud and equally bad music. We are ready for a more fulling and richer existance but we don't know exactly where to go to find it or how to make it happen.
We are finished with the overly done, trendy sectors of Denver that are too pretentious, expensive, and simply too much of a scene. We want more. We want better music, more interesting (and cleaner) venues, unique clothing, fantastic shoes, amazing food and wine, fascinating entertainment, and really great friendships.
We have grown up, our lives have changed, our tastes have evolved, our horizions have broadened, and our time is much more valuable; but, it seems as though Denver has not kept up with our changes.
We want the "Sex and the City" lifestyle, and Denver isn't anything like NYC...or is it?
Let's find out what Denver has to offer in terms of dating, dining, shopping, entertainment, education, and self transformation.

Welcome to my blog

2008-04-29T23:03:00.000-06:00

Hello from Denver,
Today was a fantastically beautiful, spring day in Denver. It was 75'F which is generally a little bit too hot for my taste because 75'F at a mile high seems so much hotter than 75'F at sea level. The rays of the sun seem to bake me and I burn very easily.
But, today it was cloudy and just a little bit humid. It felt wonderful and I loved it. These are my favorite days. Cool, silvery grey, and slightly humid...love it.
Days like this only happen once in a while here in Denver. That is my major complaint about Denver...I detest the climate here. The weather is extreme. It's called a high desert...lovely!
In the summer it is unbearably hot and very dry. The sun is very intense and almost always shines brightly. The sun at a mile high is very, very intense. Summer is short in Denver-June through August and maybe part of September.
Autumn is colorful but brief and not cool enough for beautiful layers of Fall clothes. Winters are cold, messy and snowy. Denver doesn't get as much snow as people think. It's actually quite dry, and cold, but the sun always shines. It is cold here from October to late April and sometimes early May. It warms up in April but it is very unreliable...it can snow at any moment. Late May and early June are realy the only Springtime.
The climate is part of why the city is not necessarily fashionable and almost always too casual. Fashion is largely dictated by the crazy climate; which in Denver means you have to be prepared for any kind of weather which is largely unglamorous. In the heat of the summer, the less you wear the better you feel and shorts and flip flops are the norm. In the winter, jeans and ugg boots are everywhere. I dress up my winter clothes with pretty cashmere sweaters, but that is about as dressy it can get. I don't like it at all. As a result I have a closet full of beautiful clothes and shoes that I hardly ever get to wear...let's see if I can change that over the next year.