little black journal

We’ve been in Paris for two days now, and all I can say is…I’m so happy. I don’t mean to get super-gushy and go all Franco-phile every time I talk about Paris, but I can’t help it – I just really, really love it here. As exciting and as fun as it is to see new places and experience foods and sights for the very first time, there’s also something really special about visiting old favorites. And so Shane and I have spent the last couple of days doing our favorite things in my favorite city.

Eating Berthillon ice cream along the banks of the Seine.

Standing the courtyard of the Louvre, gawking at its massive perfection.

Enjoying surprise sidewalk performances, like this little orchestra at the Palais Royale.

Gazing at Paris rooftops (I’m kind of obsessed).

Walking through the city at night.

Picnicking at the Jardin de Luxembourg,

and then watching the old men play bocce ball.

Drinking aperitifs at sidewalk cafes.

And generally loving life in the City of Light.

We arrived in Lyon on Friday afternoon, a little bummed about saying good-bye to Bruges, but looking forward to seeing what France had in store for us. From the moment we popped out of the train station, I was immediately taken aback by just how big the city is – people crowded the sidewalks, tall buildings dominated the skyline, streets were jammed with cars and buses and motorcycles. We definitely weren’t in small-town Belgium anymore… But I quickly got over my shock and after checking into our hotel, we set out to see what Lyon had to offer. We were hungry and looking to grab something quick; luckily, no one does a good, simple sandwich like the French do. We popped in Kayser bakery (this well-reputed chain has been taking France by storm), ordered a couple of ham and cheese sandwiches and a couple of tarts, and then found a spot in a nearby plaza to sit, eat, and people watch. I’ve missed the taste of a good tarte citron – nothing else like it…

Energized by our carb-heavy ‘snack’, we headed west and decided to tackle the hundreds of steps that lead up to Fourviere. After what felt like a never-ending climb, we finally reached the top and took in the view of the city in the evening sunlight. Lyon’s cityscape is so different from Paris’ – the red tile rooftops were an unexpected surprise.

The chapel of Notre Dame de Fourviere was amazing – I don’t know that I’ve ever seen anything so incredibly ornate.

We began our descent as the sun set, winding our way through the narrow staircases and streets.

After doing a little more wandering, we headed in the direction of Brasserie Georges for dinner. We seen a recommendation to check out this ‘grand cafe’-style restaurant for good Lyonnaise cuisine. Sadly, I think our over-indulgent bakery visit earlier in the day had taken away much of our appetites… Still, we enjoyed our meal and a nice little chat with an older French couple at the table next to us. I boned up on my French and translated the gentleman’s tips for Shane on proper aperitifs and digestifs. By the time dinner ended, we were exhausted, so we scouted out a metro line that would take us back our hotel and fell into bed, stuffed and sleepy.

Our first stop on Saturday morning was the large indoor food market across the street from where we were staying. Row after row of cheese, meat (everything from cured sausages to entire rabbits, fur and all!), baked goods, jars of foie gras, delicate little chocolates and sweets…it was a sight to behold.

It was early and we weren’t quite ready to venture into stinky cheeses and pates, so we just grabbed a croissant and a yogurt and headed toward the river to find a place to eat. Oh, and I also snagged three perfect macaroons, since when in France, I have dessert after breakfast, lunch and dinner…

Shane had read the night before about a cluster of ancient Roman ruins up near Fourviere hill and wanted to check them out, so we headed back up (this time by tram) to see what we could find. We came across a large stone amphitheater and a number of crumbling old walls just behind the church we’d visited the night before. Some of this stonework was literally thousands of years old. Blows my mind.

Curiosity satisfied, we took another winding street down the hill and pointed ourselves south, walking along the Saone River.

I was interested in checking out the Lyon Confluence, an area near the converging Saone and Rhone rivers that is home to a lot of new architectural developments. It was quite an experience to able to walk from Roman ruins to rows of ultra-modern metal-and-glass condos.

This building in particular caught my eye (whose eye wouldn’t it catch?!). Funky, bright, patterned, and bold – I like it.

While I was having my little architectural geek-out, Shane was camped out on a bench in a nearby park – that warm Lyon sun, paired with the first Wifi signal we’d been able to find in France, and he wasn’t in any rush to go anywhere else.

However, we did have one last sight we wanted to see, and so we caught a tram to the north end of town to stroll through Parc de la Tete d’Or – Lyon’s largest park. And it was huuuuge, containing everything from English-style gardens, to ‘African plains’ containing giraffes and brightly colored birds, to wide-open expanses of bright green lawn. We camped out on the grass for awhile and watched the people go by.

Our day ended with dinner at Chez Jul, a little river-side restaurant with a tasty looking menu and an open table (after being turned away from three different restaurants for not having reservations, we were thrilled to find a place that could seat us). After hearing all the talk about Lyon being the culinary capitol of France, I felt a lot of pressure to partake in an earth-shattering meal. I ordered the duck, Shane ordered the fish, and I kept my fingers crossed. And the food was indeed good. But it wasn’t the meal to end all meals. I was disappointed for a moment, and then I remembered, I’m in France. And having a fabulous time with my very favorite person. Disappointment averted; it was still a great night. Oh, and for the record, the cheese plate we ordered for dessert was actually pretty killer.

We enjoyed a slow walk back to our room, taking in the view of the city at night. We’d be catching a train the next morning, so we said our au revoir’s to Lyon, reflecting on what a full day it had been.

Next stop: Paris. Yes.

We were up early on Thursday to eat at the B&B’s cozy little breakfast nook and plan out our only full day in Bruges. The town is small and completely walkable, so we left the agenda fairly loose and decided that we’d spend most of day just wandering, stopping for tea or beer or frites or waffles whenever we needed a break. Our plan did not disappoint – everything in Bruges, from the canals to the parks to the simple sight of a bike propped against an old brick wall, was just so…perfect.

As much as I enjoyed our aimless wandering with all its charming surprises, I did have one non-negotiable must-do item on my list: get chocolate. And not the stuff from one of the tourist-targeted ‘Choco-holic’ shops, but the extra-good stuff. Shane had done a little research and recommended that we walk a little ways off the beaten path and check out Spegelaere on Ezelstraat. We walked in and were immediately overwhelmed by the smell of rich, cocoa goodness and the sight of rows upon rows of carefully prepared bonbons and truffles and solid bars and little squares filled with all sorts of gooey surprises. I practiced an amazing amount of self-restraint and asked for just two small boxes of assorted goodies (although for a moment, I did do a quick mental inventory of my suitcase and wonder if I could throw away a pair of shoes or leave behind a couple of pairs of jeans for the sake of making space for sweets). I tore into the first box about a half a block from the store – and from the first, melty, liqueur-filled bite, I was hooked.

We had lunch at a little cafe and did a little more exploring – by late afternoon, I felt like we’d walked down almost every street in the town center. We had seen our share of quaint street fronts and picturesque stretches of canal and were ready for a new perspective.

And so we headed over the church at the town square and bought our tickets to climb the 360 steps to the top of the tower. By the time we reached the lookout, I was breathless and tired, but the views from up there made the effort well worth it.

We left the church knowing that we had just a precious hour or two of sunshine left in the day, so we wound our way over to Minnewater Park for one last stroll, soaking in the gorgeous Autumn evening.

That last tour-de-Bruges left us tired and thirsty, and so we were happy to score a couple of chairs at a crowded cafe terrace from which we could catch the day’s last rays of sun and sip on some Belgian elixirs.

We ended the day with a romantic dinner at de Bottelier, a homey canal-side restaurant near our B&B. We shared a plate of pasta and a delicious regional baked fish dish, topped with tomatoes and peppers and all kinds of herbs. We drank wine and shared our thoughts and impressions of tiny Bruges. The verdict, out of 10 stars? A solid 11.

A three-hour train ride brought us to Bruges on Wednesday. We were thrilled to be in the land of chocolate, beer, and crispy frites – I couldn’t imagine a place more well-suited to our tastes. We rolled our suitcases through the winding, cobblestone streets and made our way to our bed and breakfast, a little bummed by the rain that seemed to have followed us from Amsterdam, but struck by the beauty of this old, frozen-in-time town. We checked into our perfect room at Speelmansrei B&B and then headed back out in search of a pre-dinner snack. Our noses led us to the frites stand at the market square, and then, in a moment of sheer glory, the clouds parted and the sun began to shine on charming Bruges.

We wanted to throw up our arms and dance in the middle of the crowded square, but instead chose to dart toward the canal and see if we could snag a spot on one of the town’s boat tours. Within 30 minutes, we were seated in a little motor boat with several other sun-giddy tourists, and we were off. There are not words to describe the beauty of Bruges. Shoot, there are hardly photos to describe the beauty of Bruges. But this is our best shot:

We hopped off the boat with “is this place for real?” grins plastered across our faces, eager to check out more of the town. It felt like every corner we turned revealed some new picture-perfect setting.

Luck (or tourists’ intuition?) led us to a perfect little bridge just in time to watch the sun set over the canal. There was no one else around and we felt like this magical scene belonged just to us – I’m tucking that evening away in the never-ever-forget memory bank.

After watching the sky drain of its color, we walked over to Cambrinus for dinner – Shane read about this place online and was immediately sold when he heard that their beer menu boasts over 400 selections. I didn’t believe it, until they handed us the novel that is their beer list and we saw the endless rows of bottles stocked in cases behind the bar. I froze in a moment of option-overload and just ordered a glass of the draft blonde, but Shane asked for a recommendation and ended up with a bottle of Malheur – one sip of its rich, caramel-toned goodness and he had decided he was drinking the best beer ever.

We dined on a giant bucket of steamed mussels, paired with onion soup and another round of beer. Life is so, so good.

And to think that our first six hours in Bruges were just a taste of what the following day would hold (stay tuned)…

Tuesday was our last full day in Amsterdam, and we left our footprints all over the city that day, zipping from one end of town to the other and back again, several times over, to eat/sight-see/eat/sight-see, etc.

We started the day at the Albert Cuyp market, after hearing from several people that this huge outdoor bazaar is a destination for tourists and locals alike. I expected to find stall after stall of fine, hand-made Dutch goods, and a good smattering of delicious food stands stocked with brightly colored produce, but was surprised to find that the market’s offerings were more of the discount-bin genre, with hot deals on everything from toothpaste to leather boots. Bright colors came in the form of wigs and leggings, rather than berries and squash. We didn’t stick around long, deciding we’d rather spend the morning checking out a few of the sights at the north end of town.

We took the tram north, just past the train station, and hopped out to check a few somewhat recent additions to Amsterdam’s contemporary architecture scene. Amsterdam really does feel like the best of both worlds, architecture-wise – perfectly preserved centuries-old buildings, and new, exciting projects that blaze new trails rather than trying to mimic the old. I didn’t love every modern building we saw, but I appreciated the willingness to innovate and make bold architecural statements. We could use a little more of that in Seattle…

Music Building on the IJ by 3XN:

Public Library by Jo Coenen:

NEMO Science Center by Renzo Piano:

And to walk just a couple of blocks from this crazy new modern stuff and still find this rich, charming, old stuff – that’s pretty cool.

Building-gazing had made us hungry, so we trammed over to the city center for lunch at Cafe de Jaren. Hot tomato soup and a toasted cheese sandwich (with chevre, honey, and thyme – mmm…) never tasted so good. We were re-fueled and ready for more. We headed south to what I assume is Amsterdam’s business district, filled with interesting new skyscrapers:

The Rock by Erick van Egaraat:

Tower with crazy outdoor staircase:

I loved these fun vertical fins on the back-side of an other-wise simple building. These pops of color are such a good surprise, especially in a climate as gray and rainy as Amsterdam’s (again, we could use more of this in Seattle):

Architecture appetite whetted, we headed back into town to do a little more canal-side strolling. Unfortunately, the high winds had given way to a steady rain, and we were starting to feel chilled. And damp. And possibly a bit cranky. The solution? Dutch apple pie topped with an insane mound of whipped cream, paired with a steaming cup of tea. One bite of this beauty from Cafe Papaneiland in the Jordaan neighborhood, and all was right with the world again.

We hung out in the cafe for over an hour, actually enjoying the rain (rather than cursing it) from our warm, cozy window-side table. As tempted as I was to stay there all day, we did want to do a bit more exploring, so we buttoned up our rain-jackets, grabbed our umbrella, and went back at it:

We ended our walk with dinner at Lion Noir, a French-inspired restaurant near Rembrandtplein that was only so-so, but followed that with one of the best desserts ever from Cafe Morlang (we had our first meal in the city at this place on Saturday and thought it would be a fitting way to end our trip). A hot waffle topped with honey, star anise ice cream, and fresh mangos; a head full of pleasant Dutch memories; and the certainty that someday, we will be back; and we said our bittersweet goodbye to charming Amsterdam.

We decided to spend yesterday checking out some of the small towns outside of Amsterdam – friends had recommended both Delft and Haarlem for their quaint, old-town sights. We boarded the train at Amsterdam Centraal and one hour later, we arrived in Delft, home of Johannes Vermeer, a heap of famous old hand-painted pottery, and plenty of canal-side charm. The first thing on our list was to climb the old church tower and get a birds-eye view of the city. Sadly, the tower was closed due to excessively high winds, and so we settled for a spin through the main part of the church to gaze at the centuries-old stonework and brilliant stained glass. Not a bad consolation prize.

After leaving the church, we grabbed lunch at a cute little cafe, enjoying the chance to get out of the wind and listen to the happy chatter of Dutch coming from a nearby table. If I ever manage to master the French language, I’m picking up Dutch next.

Fueled by our broodje (Dutch for sandwiches, unless I really misread the menu), we strolled up and down the canals, hardly believing that places this old and this lovely still exist in today’s modern world.

Our wandering eventually led us back to the station, where we caught a train back toward Haarlem. Haarlem has fewer canals than Delft, but the streets are just as charming, with beautiful brickwork and flower-filled pots on every other doorstep.

And the bikes – oh, geez, the bikes! Everywhere we look, it’s hard to find a single tree or railing or sign post that doesn’t have at least 3 or 4 bikes chained to it. Everyone in Holland seems to get around on two wheels – teenagers chatting on cell phones, business men in expensive suits, moms peddling away with a kid or two tucked into the their little bike-rigged buggies, you name it.

The wind and the walking began to wear on us, and so we ducked into a warm, lively bar for some liquid energy – I opted for mint tea, which is served here as a cup of hot water jammed full of fresh mint leaves (so, so good), and Shane chose a glass of whatever beer on the menu he thought he could pronounce correctly.

We headed back to Amsterdam for a simple pub-style dinner and a little more canal-side strolling, which was cut short by the onset of steady rain. Thankfully, there isn’t any shortage of cozy cafes and bars in which to take refuge from the weather, so we ended the evening with a glass of wine at a little hole-in-the-wall and then called it a night…or a ‘nacht’. I’m catching on.

After 16 hours of being in transit, we arrived in Amsterdam yesterday afternoon, weary, but so, so excited that our much-anticipated vacation was finally beginning. And from the moment our train from the airport rolled into rolled into town, I knew we were in for something special. The charm of this city is undeniable – it hits you around every corner and will make you ooh and ahh like the most unsophisticated of tourists, as evidenced by the fact that I grabbed Shane every two minutes to ask ‘could this place possibly be any cuter?!’ The unique-but-perfectly-matched brick facades, the dreamy canals, the lively sound of Dutch rolling of the tongues of the locals…I was immediately smitten.

I was also ravenous, as we hadn’t had a real meal for nearly a full day (turns out those tickets on Iceland Air were so cheap for a reason), so after dropping off our bags at the hotel, we set out in search of a place to grab a bite. Our wandering landed us at Cafe Morlang, a cozy little canal-side bistro where we scarfed down a grilled ham sandwich and a perfectly-fried order of fish and chips.

Bellies full, we enjoyed the feeling of the sun streaming through the windows and it was all I could do not to curl up in my plush booth and take a little nap – jet lag was quickly setting in. And so we peeled ourselves out of our seats and set out to a little more walking. Cue charming canal:

We were about to head back to our hotel when we saw a crowd gathered at a nearby plaza and headed over to see what the draw was. We spent the next 15 minutes watching an impressive troop of break dancers put on quite a show. I couldn’t help nodding my head to the beat and joining with the cheering spectators. These little surprises are one of my most favorite things about Europe.

We ended the day with a short stroll through Vondelpark, before succumbing to our tiredness and turning in early (as in, 6 pm!). We’d thought a little power nap would be all we’d need to recharge and then head back out for late-night cocktails, but once our heads hit those pillows, we were out.

We awoke to rain this morning, but didn’t let that deter us from heading out for a leisurely walk to the Pancake Bakery for breakfast. We stuffed ourselves on pancakes (which were more like crepes), topped with ham and cheese, and then bananas and rum, and we fueled for another stroll though town. Again and again, I was struck by the quaintness of each street we crossed.

Just as the rain was threatening to soak through our rain coats, we took refuge in the Van Gogh museum. We ended up cutting our visit a little short due to the massive crowds, but were there long enough to gain an entirely new appreciation for the artist – did you know that Van Gogh practiced art (without any formal training) for only 10 years before his untimely death, but left behind over 800 paintings and some 1,100 drawings? You can stick that one in your art trivia memory bank.

Post-museum, we decided we’d get an architecture fix and take the tram to the edge of town to check out a couple of projects I was interested in seeing (but not before snapping the requisite tourist photo).

First on the list was ‘The Whale’, a contemporary housing project by de Architekten Cie. I was one of those ‘how did they come up with this?’ kind of buildings. And I dug it.

After taking in The Whale, we walked over to the Borneo housing development, master planned by West 8. Each row-house along the pier was unique, creating an interesting collage of facades. Shane and I picked out our future home and will begin negotiations with the owners as soon as possible.

A few more photos, and then the rain really started to chill us, so we hopped back on the tram toward the city center for dinner. We landed at De Prins, another cozy little bistro, where we proceeded to have one of those meals that will certainly go down in the books as an Amsterdam highlight. Part of it was the ambiance (candlelight, rain falling outside), part of it was the food (a simple linguine, followed by an exceedingly rich cheese fondue, paired with a crisp white wine), part of it was the fact that today is my birthday (indeed, I am no longer in my 20’s…), but mostly it was just the chance to thoroughly enjoy the feeling of spending an evening abroad with my very best friend. Our conversation tonight wasn’t anything especially revealing or life-altering, but I was struck several times by just how much I really, really like hanging out with this amazing guy that I get to be married to. He’s a catch, that Shane… We ended our meal with a cappuccino and a glass of Port (you can guess who ordered what), and then headed back out into the drizzle.

And because it was my birthday and all, we stopped for gelato just around the corner. Fondue, coffee, and dessert? I was one happy camper.

It continued to drizzle on and off, but we didn’t let that deter us from a nighttime stroll, enjoying the ripples in the canals and the reflections of the lights on the cobblestone sidewalks. It’s been a full-but-relaxing day – packed with those ‘there’s no place else I’d rather be’ kind of moments. Happy birthday to me.

After a hectic week of work travel and deadline-ing back at the office, then scurrying around at home to get our bags packed and the house cleaned (I’m kind of neurotic about pre-vacation housekeeping), we. are. off! And praise God, ’cause we need this getaway. Shane and I are both feeling dog-tired right about now. I’ve been focused on trying to prepare for the trip properly, wanting to make sure we see the best museums and eat at the best restaurants and speak the right language, but now, what I want more than anything from this vacation is deep, quality, life-giving rest. If this means skipping a round of cocktails to turn in early, so be it. If we decide to pass on the Louvre for the sake of spending an afternoon reading in a cafe, that’s a-ok with me. Then again, maybe there’s rejuvenation to be found in liquor and art – I’m just committing to making sure the want-to’s take priority over the should-do’s. We’ll see where the Dutch winds blow us (the forecast for Amsterdam is 30 mph winds and rain, so this isn’t just a metaphor!). I’ll report from the other side of the pond – a bientot…

I’ve been feeling the travel itch for awhile now, dreaming of places to go, things to see, food to eat, leisure to live…  Shane and I went back and forth over what we thought our Fall vacation should look like, wanting to go for the gusto, but not knowing if the timing was right for an ultimate vay-cay.  After monitoring ticket prices and checking our work schedules, we threw caution to the wind and decided this was the year to make a European voyage happen.  After doing my routine Expedia search at lunchtime a couple of months ago, I found a killer deal on flights, grabbed the phone and called Shane with a ‘Buy NOW!’ directive, and within a matter of minutes, we were booked!  One week in Holland and Belgium, and one glorious week in Paris.  This weekend we put the finishing touches on our itinerary, confirming our train tickets and reserving the last of our accommodations.  Four nights in Amsterdam, two nights in Bruges, two nights in Lyon, and seven whole nights in the City of Light.  And with our departure just over two weeks away, I have officially become crazy with excitement.  I’ve been spending my evenings making my eat/see/do list – looking forward to taking in both the modern and funky, and the old and beautiful.  We’re going to stay up late and drink wine and walk along the sparkly Seine, then get up late and eat pain au chocolate paired with tiny cups of espresso.  I am going to stand in front of my favorite Dubuffet painting at the Pompidou, and speak French (God willing) with waiters and those lovely-but-so-unhelpful people at the Metro ticket window.  We’re going to explore places we’ve never been, and return to places that rank as our all-time favorite spots on the face of the earth.  I’m going to eat everything on this list and not feel bad about it.  And we are going to bask in the simple-but-too-often-forgotten fact that la vie est belle…

When Jack sent out an invite a couple of months ago for the Oregon Wine Country Half-Marathon, I knew that several of our friends would be up for the run; I knew that even more of our friends would be up for the wine (I’ll give you one guess as to which category Shane fell into and which category I fell into). Runners were registered, an awesome house on the Willamette River was booked, and we were off! We arrived at the house on Friday night to join the Rust clan, who had set up camp there earlier in the week. And from the moment I set foot on the wide open wooden deck, I knew we were in for an epic weekend. When I said that the house was on the river, I wasn’t kidding – our party pad was literally floating on the waters of the quiet Willamette, with a big deck (complete with a firepit) and a shed stocked with numerous floatation devices. Even though it was well past sundown, I was already thinking about where exactly I’d spread our my towel the next day for an afternoon of sun-soaking.  And I knew that the firepit held some definite s’more-making potential.

We were up early on Saturday to grab breakfast in Lake Oswego and then head to Portland, to hit the famous Saturday Farmers Market that fills the Park Blocks.   Agenda: check out the food stands, lay on the grass, and grab a weekend supply of fresh fruit.

The nectarines were ripe and juicy – like summer wrapped up in a pretty, round, red-orange package.  And the raspberries…O.M.G.

The market’s entertainment offerings weren’t bad either – the Rust boys were entranced by a man playing the didgeridoo – if only I had a video of the way little G was stomping along to the music…

After the farmers market (and a quick stop at Barista – so, so good), we headed back to the house and spent the rest of the afternoon swimming, sunning, and making sure our runners were hydrating and carbo-loading with cold beer and home-made pizza.  The daredevils decided to use the second story porch as a launch pad into the river – Jack takes the prize for ‘best kung-fu dive’.

And Nancy easily won ‘smallest splash’.

As we all gathered on the deck to watch the sun go down, I was struck by how much I have to be thankful for – good friends, good food, and such a good, good life in the Pacific Northwest…

And good God, 10 hours later, I was up to see the runners off and watch the sun come up!  5:30 is way earlier than I’d ever choose to wake up on a Sunday morning, but this sky almost made it worth it.

A couple hours after our seven half-marathoners hit the road, the cheering squad set out for the finish line, ready with signs and grins and plenty of ‘wooooo-woooooo’s!”.  The runners had registered together for the race under the team name, ‘tuna kambia’, which means ‘we are running’ in Swahili.

And indeed, they were running.  Ten minutes before we expected to greet any of our friends at the finish line, Jason appeared on the horizon.  This man has a gift – he’ll swear he’s never been a long-distance runner, and yet he ran 13.2 miles in 1 hour and 35 minutes.  Insane!

Chris finished just a few minutes behind Jason, and then Shane trotted by, a tired-but-proud smile on his face.

Jack, Megan, Brian, and Nicole weren’t far behind.  Everyone ran a really stellar race, and there were high-fives and sweaty hugs all around.  It’s not entirely surprising that while most of the runners rejoined the rest of us with a water bottle in hand, Jack appeared out of nowhere carrying a glass of Rose.  He’s been telling Shane for years that studies have shown that the best way to re-hydrate after a run is with a pint of beer, and so I don’t doubt he’ll soon be be singing the praises of wine’s post-exercise restorative properties.

So proud of them all!

After a few visits to the wine-tasting booths that had set up shop near the finish line, we decided to head back toward the house.  But first, one short-but-essential pit-stop:

We had been wanting to checkout Winderlea Winery for awhile – we tried to visit this place when we visited Oregon wine country with Jack and La Verne last summer and were bummed to find that it was closed for a private event.  But this time, we made sure we were the first ones in the door – we gathered around the big table and began to watch the Pinot flow.

The wines were tasty, the setting was gorgeous, and everyone was just so…merry.

Although I could have spent all day sipping and sunning on the winery’s patio, the runners were tired and hungry (and in need of showers…), and so we headed back to the house for an afternoon of swimming, lounging, eating, drinking, swimming, lounging, eating, drinking, and so on.  That day will go down as one of my favorite days of this summer.

And just when the day felt like it couldn’t have gotten any better, Jack busted out this:

Yes, that’s a 3-liter bottle of wine.  When Jack uncorked it, I thought, ‘There’s no way we’ll finish that thing.’  I was wrong.  The rest of the night was spent stuffing ourselves on homemade chili verde, followed by roasted marshmallows for dessert.  We were one tired, fat, happy group by the time bedtime rolled around.

On Monday morning it was time to bid a sad farewell to our riverside home.  We ate a killer home-cooked breakfast together (seriously, our friends don’t mess around when it comes to eating), I soaked in the view from the deck one last time, Shane enjoyed a few more minutes of quality time with little Zebo.

And then we said our good-byes, not wanting to believe that the weekend was really over.  Life on the water was so good while it lasted…