Busy Weeks and Busier Weekends

These past couple of months in California have actually been quite enjoyable.

I have grown into new responsibilities at work that have given me a chance to really make me feel like I belong. Beyond answering phones, I’ve been proofing reports and press releases, helping coordinate their release, and leading the production of our state reports. We release Measuring Up this Thursday, and so now I’ll be fielding reporter calls. It should be interesting. I think we have C-SPAN lined up for the release on Thursday morning EDT if you’re that interested. Otherwise, just know that if you hear things like “such and such a state receives an F in affordability,” that’s us!

But beyond work, the weekends have been lots of fun too.

Four weekends ago, one of my friends from Whitman, Harrison, came down to show his French “brother” (from the family who hosted him while he was in France) the Bay Area. We had a really fun time going down to Santa Cruz (my third weekend in a row, by chance) and visiting its famous boardwalk. While standing in line to buy tickets for the old-fashioned roller coaster, François ran into a Parisian whom he had met on the flight from Paris to Chicago. It truly is a small world! They started speaking in French and were so involved that they started to hold up the line. They eventually noticed and stepped over so that others could continue forward in line. The guys behind them came up behind us and scoffed. “Why can’t they just speak English?” he questioned disparagingly. Yes, we were showing François America.

The weekend after was spent with my mom, her brother (yes, that’d be my uncle), and his two younger sons on an excursion up to the Sacramento Valley and, more specifically, the ranch where my mom grew up. It was interesting to see just how isolated she had been growing up, and it was certainly good to finely have a clear picture to go with the numerous stories.

The old house had been long-since demolished, the farm having been bought at some point by a large farming conglomerate. The area where the house had been was so overgrown that we could only skirt the perimeter, staring through the spider webs. The sheep barn was still standing.

On my trip, I garnered a real appreciation for what my granddad accomplished when he was younger—raising five kids on a ranch thirty miles from the nearest quasi-town, working the fields, all while commuting in almost daily to Davis to get his PhD in Plant Pathology. To be fair, his mother did much of the managing of the farm, and my grandmother raised the five children, but it couldn’t have been an easy life. I began to understand better how it all fell apart.

At dinner that night, we got to talking with my uncle, and it was decided that we would come up to Napa (where he lives) to see him and go wine tasting the next weekend. He is the lead on-site supervisor for the construction company that has been working with Francis Ford Copolla on various projects around his vineyard, Rubicon.

We started down at the vineyard proper, and got to go briefly through the whole history of the grapes at this particular vineyard, see some movie memorabilia, and finally get on to the actual tasting. They mainly make reds at the vineyard, and the flagship wine, the Rubicon, was deep and full-bodied cabernet. That vineyard is not all talk!

My uncle then took the lead and showed us up to the project he is currently working on, the Copollas’ retirement home on a hill behind the vineyard overlooking the valley. It is an interesting house made entirely of cement. They had lined the concrete forms with cedar planks, giving the concrete a very interesting, wood-like texture. It is absolutely a piece of art, as my uncle doesn’t hesitate to mention, but I worry at how practical some of its spaces are.

After an afternoon of touring, we were ready for some of Napa’s famous foods. We actually stayed right by the Rubicon Estate, and went to the Rutherford Bar and Grille. I can honestly say that I haven’t had a better meal in a very long time. There was good wine, amazing corn bread, and a delicious ostrich steak, all topped off with a incredibly knowledgeable waitress. Having lived in China for the last couple of years, I have grown accustomed to not tipping, and find it almost absurd in most cases here in the US, but this waitress was so outstanding that I made sure she got a good tip.

And for this long weekend, it was a whirlwind (or a world-wind, as I kept accidentally saying) trip to the PacNW. I flew from San Jose to Seattle on Friday evening. In total, I saw 21 friends/family members on my three-day trip somewhere in and between Seattle, Portland, and San Jose. We even managed to have a mini Whitman reunion on Saturday night, and I enjoyed two (count ‘em two!) happy hours that evening. Apparently 5-7PM isn’t long enough anymore, now we must also have 11PM-1AM as an excuse to drink more. I’m really not complaining!

It was REALLY good to see all that I did, and I’m sorry if I missed others of you! Now, we hope that my British student visa comes through so that I can get to London next Sunday…