Two Weeks, 20 Miles, and Worlds Apart

Two weeks ago, my group of closest girlfriends met the newest addition to our crew – Cohen Worl, age 6 weeks. The aunties came from all over – San Clemente, New York, Soledad and Redwood Valley –for a weekend celebrating our 10+ years of friendship and the newest milestone, the first baby!

We met Ange and Baby Cohen in San Rafael for a Saturday lunch and old fashioned “sip and see”. The day was spent lunching, eating cupcakes and pushing the stroller around the outdoor Corta Madera mall while Cohen peacefully slept tucked inside his designer ride…and like old times, we talked the afternoon away, with one minor addition.

Yes, the weekend marked the next turn in our lives and was considered, at least by me, a big deal, not only since Ange was the first to hit the big four (marriage, house, dog, baby – similar to the big four when hunting on a safari) while I haven’t hit a single one, but also since only a mere 18 months earlier we were spending our Saturdays waking up to mimosas, drinking all day while sitting around the kitchen table and finally pulling ourselves together for whatever plans we had in store for that evening. We have officially embarked on a new adventure…

The aunties, mom and Cohen in San Rafael

Or at least I thought so. And I was completely ready to own this new found maturity until two weeks later when, just a mere 20 miles north of San Rafael, in the foothills of Sonoma, the combination of 12 friends, 1 large house and cabana, 1 pool, 2 hot tubs, 1 putting green, 1 beer bong, wine tasting, BBQ-ing, flip-cupping and just hanging out with good friends proved that some things haven’t changed at all, at least for me. Yes, while the previous weekend marked the next turn in our lives, this weekend showed me just how classy and mature I really still am…case in point - while most people come back from wine country with cases of wine, I somehow came home with a case of Coors Light.

The wine tasting crew, Saturday Morning

So while the two weekends couldn’t have been in bigger contrast, I surprisingly enjoyed both weekends equally the same and that my friend is the mark of progress in itself.

Little Miss Fancy Pants Snores!

I will be the first to admit that I have a pretty amazing life, with a good job (at least a good paying one), great friends and family and countless opportunities for my future. Call it conceited, I am just truly grateful for what I have. So I am aware at how crazy it may seem that on Wednesday at 4pm there was a possibility that I was heading to Italy that evening to see Martin for a weekend of skiing the Italian Alps. But before I could guarantee the fresh winter air, I had to wrap up work and make it through the 11 hour flight.

With the last item completed for work (at the very last minute of course) and finally in the cab on the way to the airport, my life was as it should be... I breezed through check-in and security and was able to enjoy a free Coors Light in the red carpet lounge pre-flight, all the while envisioning my California casual self, boarding the plane in SF and my fabulous European self disembarking in Munich (yes, I was headed to Italy, but it was easiest to fly into Munich where Martin was going to pick me up, drive through Austria and end up in Italy).

Unfortunately somewhere over the Atlantic the slight cold I had been fighting all week came back with vengeance leaving me with sever sinus pressure, a dry cough and the need to blow my nose every 15 minutes. And when I finally managed to fall asleep in the upright position, I turned into a grizzly bear with a pug’s nose – I snored so loudly that the poor guy in 42G could hear me 8 rows back. And it doesn’t end there…oh no, not only did I snore, I snored, sniffled, drooled and may or may not have farted (compliments of the Coors Light) my way to Europe. So much for my fabulous self!

When I finally deplaned in Munich, Martin was not greeted by his hot CA girlfriend, nor his sophisticated European girlfriend, but rather the wreck of a girlfriend with a puffy red face, hot flashes and sweats (due to the slight fever I developed), a hoarse, man-like voice, holding a box of used Kleenex accumulated between passport control and customs. Thank god he loves me! After four weeks of not seeing each other it was probably the worst condition I could have arrived.

I had to exactly three nights to redeem myself.

The Breuer Family Vacation

After sneezing, coughing and sniffling my way over the Atlantic, through Germany and Austria, Martin and I were on our way to the Ridanna Valley in Italy for the tail end of the Breuer Family vacation. Driving through the countryside with Martin felt completely normal and the only reminder that we were on our way to Italy rather than Tahoe were the steep, dramatic peaks of the Alps rather than the gradual climb of the Sierra Nevadas (while the drugs I took on the plane did little to help the congestion, they did provide me a nice night’s sleep resulting in me waking up in Europe without really feeling the effects of the 11 hour flight or 9 hour time difference).

To start, the Breuer Family vacation, which has been going on for over 12 years, is a week-long ski holiday complete with early European breakfasts, morning and afternoon skis, mid-day naps, saunas in the afternoon (clothing optional apparently) and a 5 course dinner every night followed by cards and a nightcap. I loved every minute of it!

We arrived too late for dinner on Thursday night, but were able to join the family for desserts and wine before heading to the hotel bar to enjoy traditional folk music and the evening glass of Ramazotti. Unfortunately, the next morning the effects of the flight, cold and possibly Ramazzoti finally sunk in, and the morning was spent recovering in bed while Martin joined his family for breakfast. Being the amazing person he is, he brought me back a breakfast spread for when I woke up and passed on the morning ski to look after me.

That afternoon, Martin and I went to pick up ski boots for my maiden voyage on skating-style cross country skis (Martin’s sister and friend provided the rest including skis, poles, pants, jacket, gloves, hat… everything but the long johns, which Martin had bought for me). The ski boots turned into an embarrassing event, with me having to go up 2 full sizes, and thus compounding my big foot/ kankle complex…. Insecurities aside, with shoes in hand, and looking the part of a professional, it was time for me to hit the snow. And that I did…three times, the first time resulting in a beautiful bruise on my right check (and I am not talking about my face).

Falling aside, I actually enjoyed myself and did reasonably well, at least for someone who had spent the last three months behind a desk and with little to no coordination to begin with. Even the –9 degree Celsius weather couldn’t deter me from having a good time. To illustrate just how cold it was, just seconds after opening a bottle of apple juice outside, I watched the contents freeze from top to bottom within 30 seconds. It was even too cold for the normally crazy Breuers to ski, calling it a day after just the morning ski on Saturday – Martin’s family would normally think nothing of being the only people out skiing in below freezing temperature, heavy snowfall and the 11 km of hills…gotta love ‘em. Thankfully the daily saunas and hot tea helped to warm me up….Yes tea, not coffee. I am slowly starting to break the news to the family that I am not a huge fan of coffee, or cake for that matter, and for that they probably think I am crazier than they are!

Our final night was spent playing doppelkopf (the German version of hearts/a$$hole but way more complicated) and me vowing to restart my German lessons (I signed up the following Monday). Sunday morning the whole family piled into the family station wagon and made our way back to Germany and the Munich airport for my final trek home. It was a sad good-bye so soon, but at least I know I will be back in Europe in no time!

Crab Feed 2010

While living in Switzerland, it was often difficult to hear about all of the parties and get togethers I was missing back at home. One of the weekends I was most disappointed to miss was the 2008 Young Farmer’s Annual Crab Feed in the Salinas Valley. My best girl friends could not stop talking about the crazy weekend they had had and hearing the girls describe the hot mess that ensued (throwing bottles/cans of sofia champagne, breaking into a neighbor’s house and passing out before the party really started) I knew I had to experience it for myself. So two weekends ago, I packed an overnight bag and drove the 2 hours south to “It’s happening in” and “Feel the Momentum of” Soledad, CA, population 28,000.

After a quick shower and a tour of Anj’s closet (I brought the jeans and wife beater, she supplied the rest - cowboy boots, sweater, necklace, etc) we grabbed our road sodas and headed to the party…First impression, this was going to be a good night. Located in the Greenfield High School gymnasium, the place was filled with long tables with red checkered tablecloths, a country style band, two bars and lots of cowboy hats.

We headed straight to an empty table (okay, maybe not straight, there was a quick detour to the bar), I threw on the plastic bib, cleared my plate of the fillers (pasta, salad and bread) and got down to business. Less than 15 minutes later and I was asking the waiters for more crab and making a proper mess of myself. And like Christmas Eve, where I notoriously end the evening alone at the table with the remaining bowls of crab, I stopped the binge only because I was the last one eating out of 200+ people and our table was the only one not yet cleared for the upcoming band and dancing. To avoid embarrassment, I threw in the towel and stopped before even hitting my stride (my fingers hadn’t even started pruning yet from the crab juices and I had only filled one plate with empty shells).

With dinner completed, the band started up and the hoe-down began. And it was a proper hoe-down at that: with a rock cover band, whiskey and beer, country dancing and a bar room brawl. The rest of the evening was spent dancing, catching up with old friends (surprisingly I knew a handful of the farmers from college) and drinking one too many whiskeys. And while no laws were broken this year (at least not by our crowd) I would still consider the evening a success and am looking forward to next year!

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