Listen to this while you read. Or not. It’s a good song and they say California a lot. It might get you in the mood.
Oh, did I not mention I was flying out to California today? Well, yeah. That’s about happen. Around 5pm today, Erin and I will get on an airplane to Anaheim (John Wayne, meh) Airport. We’ll spend a dreary night in a dreary airport-area hotel, then head to Disneyland in the morning. If you thought Erin could get within 500 miles of Disney property and not demand to visit it, you must be new here. Once California was on the agenda, Disneyland was a certainty. Hey, I can’t complain. When we depart Mouse Central, our destination is north, to alcohol country.
A trip to wine country is on the short list of Places I Will Go, Damn It, And Way Before I Hit Bucket List Territory. Last fall, when Erin, Kelley and I were sitting in a wine tasting, drinking the base wines of Methodoise Champagne, I leaned over, wondering if I was sober enough to be planning future vacations, and said we were California bound in 2012. Erin, who’s learned not to care whether I’m sober or not when I’m promising vacations, immediately agreed.
Our trip looks something like this:
We’ll be in the City of Angels for a few nights, head to Monterey on Monday, then continue up the coast to Somona (Ed.: Or, as Mere noted, Sonoma.) the next morning. After a week of demolishing my liver and praising imagined notes of walnut, citrus and wet dog, we’ll spend a weekend in San Francisco before heading home.
The trip really snuck up on me – I’ve been a bit distracted the last month or so, after all – but now that it’s here, I’m really, really excited. Not just about all the envy and hateful looks I’m getting from friends when I talk about spending a week soaked in estate grown alcoholic grape juice, either. It’s going to be an awesome week and a half.
Did I mention how much wine there’s going to be?