Bye, bye blog!

My time in Hawaii cleared my head, despite the copious amounts of rum consumed. (Whoa!) I had an epiphany there: the time has come for me to re-prioritize myself. I realize I don’t have enough time for everything I want and need to do, so… I need to take a break from the blog. It’s hard not to feel wistful as writing has been such a great release for me. All the trials of moving to Napa and starting Red House - wow, what an adventure! And writing about situations with clients has helped me grow as a business owner. Looking back, over more than a year of blogging, I think I have matured too – losing patience a little less than in my bad old days in New York. Lately though, after the kids are asleep, I find that I’m typing away while Michael watches ESPN. The kids need a mother who is less sleep-deprived, and Michael needs…a wife (!). My work at Red House is even more demanding now, with Michael’s bank projects in Charlotte. And while life will be easier in many ways with Kat, our new au pair around, I need to spend time helping her adjust to our family quirks and right-side drive.

So, if I’m not blogging, then what? I have some ideas.

Pizza Beat-Downs - Once a week, on Kat’s night off, the family will create a signature pizza. I will not fear flour and its tendency to end up everywhere! And, this summer I’m hoping to build an outdoor wood-fired pizza oven to recreate our favorites.

Start “Natalie Nights” - Regularly scheduled evenings out with my niece. I think it’s time we get to know each other better.

Become a student - I will enroll in wine and food courses at St. Helena’s Culinary Institute of America (ciachef.edu/California). No more excuses not to, and I can walk there from my house!

Spend occasional weekends in Charlotte - Surprising Michael when he’s there - with an overnight bag and nothing more! BlackBerry will stay home. You get the idea.

Get a Puppy? - This is my least thought-out and least favorite plan. Maybe I’ll have Nat set up an aquarium for us instead.

Host Wine Blending Parties - With knowledge from the C.I.A. classes, I will invite Red House clients to partake in a little liquid chemistry lab. We may mix up something great!

Read! – Every last airport book I’ve bought and merely skimmed!

Create and innovate – Spend more time on inspiration for Red House. Where will the next ideas come from – India? Australia? Even if I can’t get there I can read, see films and explore art forms. San Francisco will be a great source of material. And speaking of creating, maybe I’ll get the Red House fragrance designed. (If so, can I take a tax write-off for my garage space?)

Live more of the dream – My love affair with Napa endures, and I want to experience more of everything this fabulous region has to offer. The lifestyle is Red House, and our goal is to be the finest customized corporate clothing company out there.

In closing, I especially want to thank my clients for choosing Red House in its infancy and sticking with us as we have adapted and evolved. Stay tuned – there’s much more ahead! Thanks for appreciating our commitment to quality and attention to detail and customer service. I will endeavor to always keep Red House ahead of the curve and leave my competitors to cut corners. (The buttons that break and the fabrics that pill will not be what we are known for.) Keep counting on me - I won’t let you down!

From the heart of Red House,

-Maddie

Instant Aloha.

This is the life! I am next to a small pool surrounded by verdant tropical foliage. Just me, Michael, my laptop and two mai tais - light on the pineapple juice. Somewhere, a waterfall beckons to be explored. (So what if it’s fake!) It feels like we’re in the middle of a jungle and not the meandering, interconnected pools of the Grand Hyatt Resort in Kauai (www.kauai.hyatt.com). THIS IS JUST AMAZING! My first trip to Hawaii! It would not have been practical during my years as a New Yorker as the travel time would have consumed much of the vacation. Ah, the joys of living on the west coast! Michael and I actually had a direct flight from SF that was just a tad over five hours. And unlike in the Caribbean, I’m not hearing New York accents or experiencing the fussy intensity and predilections for obnoxiousness. (Traits I’ve been working out one by one since I moved to Napa, as you know.) Maybe the easterners are here but subdued, and like us, stretched out on very comfortable lounge chairs shaded by big umbrellas, with cocktails and novels in hand (or laptops!). The real difference between them and us? They are trying to get tan, as they don’t know when they’ll have another opportunity!

It feels like we’ve escaped! It’s a little bit of a guilty feeling, but we really did make a last minute decision to come here. In a more robust economy, everything would be booked up and a last-minute trip wouldn’t have been possible. Kat had settled in (sort of). Well, she knew how to get the kids to and from school and where to buy groceries. Michael had nothing immediate on his calendar with the bank, and there was nothing pressing enough at Red House that I couldn’t take six days away. Besides, Kerin will call if I need to step in. So, with the stars aligned, we threw some things together and just LEFT. Not in a long time have I been so excited to get on a plane! I was like a kid! Even the packing was easy: our Red House Honeycomb Piqué Polos (RH02 for me and RH01 for Michael) are perfect for tennis, golf next door at Poipu, and exploring Waimea Canyon. All of which will happen…later (!). And that’s pretty much all we have planned. Oh, and lots more of this poolside time. I’ve never spent so much time in a bathing suit, ever!

I really get now why people always refer to Hawaii as paradise. Near-perfect weather, incredible scenery, and a relaxed approach to life – what’s not to love? It would take me a while to miss the mainland. However, being here has made me even more enamored of Napa, which is close enough to paradise for me. And besides, local winemaking leaves a lot to be desired. The sparkling pineapple “champagne” we bought in the hotel gift shop was really, really, bad!

Time to float down the lazy river to the pool bar. If not for need of rum we’d get no exercise at all. Ahhh…

Family of Five!

The time has come to add another person to our household. No, no - I do not mean a BABY! What were you thinking?! (I don’t even have time for the dog that the kids keep asking for!) The term for our addition is au pair. As soon as Michael started interviewing in Charlotte, I did the proactive thing and started the process of finding someone I could count on to be there for Delia and Andrew 24/7. No other option, unless there are elementary boarding schools. (I think they call them orphanages!) I need to be able to travel for Red House whenever, and had to assume that Michael would be gone part of the time too. As it turns out, he’s already away on a project for the bank – all week. Good thing I’m home right now. In fact, today I’m literally home, cleaning out the refuse from Natalie’s room. By tomorrow it will be spotless, every last cigarette butt and beer bottle gone, because someone is moving in!

The au pair I found sounds great, really ideal, but I had to interview eight candidates before I found the qualities I was looking for. And even if she is perfect, I can’t get too comfortable because this is only a one-year program, after which she’ll return home to continue her education. Once home, she will probably want to gather her friends and classmates around the campfire to extol the virtues of Napa. And over time, she will unlearn whatever bad habits she might have picked up crossing paths with Natalie. Let’s not even think about that right now!

Here are a few highlights from my phone interviews with a few of the runners up:

Irina from Ukraine: Seemed a little too disappointed that Napa wasn’t a suburb of L.A. Sorry, Iri, weekends clubbing in Hollywood are not an option.

Marta from Costa Rica: Very close to graduating from college and didn’t sound serious about committing to a whole year. And why would a Petroleum Engineer want to be an au pair anyway?

Neha from India: Does not drive, which is not what it said on her application!

Kirsten from Norway: She cried! I asked what her biggest fear was if she took the job and she said missing her family. (Next year I’ll check to see if she’s available, and whether she’s outgrown the apron strings – I liked her otherwise.)

And the winner is (drum roll!) ---- Kat from Scotland! I liked her accent. Well, and she just sounded really bubbly, capable and kid-oriented. Even better: she wants to be a Child Psychologist. That should be handy with our man Andrew and his kindergarten antics! And how about the cultural advantages of having someone from another country around?! She can teach us about the history of clans, plaids, moors, golf and single malts. And cook oats and haggis! (Or not…) And hmmm… I wonder if Kat might like dogs. What better time, right? I won’t spring that idea on her right away!

Viva la Venison!

It happened so fast, a couple of seconds and - SCREEEEEECH!!!!!! It had been a basic morning and I was taking Delia and Andrew to school. Suddenly, there was a beige blur in front of my windshield to which I reacted with an expert skid (aided by a combination of coffee and adrenaline) - but then, AGAIN - another beige blur and my BMW landed in a drainage ditch as the kids screamed in horror. Damn Bambi! There were two of them, actually. The first darted across the road anticipating the best opportunity for impact inflicting maximum bodily damage. Things weren’t going well in the woods? Overcrowding maybe? Not enough grapes. (Not enough grapes?!) But s/he wasn’t exactly accurate. Nor was s/he planning to exit this world alone. No, no, a pact had been made with Bambi No. 2, the one I didn’t see until too late.

Once in the ditch we were quiet for a few seconds, stunned. I reached around the handy air bag and made sure the kids were ok. The car was almost sideways and the booster seats had done their jobs of keeping them in place. I remembered that after an accident you are supposed to turn off the engine, which I did. Then, as if on cue, the kids started crying loudly. OMG - did I hit that deer?! I think I only nicked it. But nicked is bad… Delia wailed about me killing it. I remember seeing a crazy coal-black eye and – that’s it.

I called Michael and the police, crawled up and out the passenger door, and then got the kids out. There was no way a basic tow truck would be getting this car out, but I’d let AAA worry about that. Delia wanted to look for the dead deer (!) and Andrew wanted to be picked up. He’s too big for that so he took my hand and we looked around. I was wearing heels, which are not what you wear looking for deer. At least I didn’t sink in as I did when Michael ran out of gas. There were treed areas on both side of the road and I made a mental note to see if a deer crossing sign could be put up here. Anyway, no sign of death or dismemberment, but I wasn’t going to go too far into the woods and risk finding a dying deer – or worse, a meth lab!

The police arrived and looked for signs of blood evidence on my car and surrounding area. None. Was I sure I “nicked” something? (The officer actually used his fingers to make those little quotation marks when he asked.) Did he think I was distracted by my cell phone or typing on my BlackBerry, and that’s why the accident?! If so, he didn’t actually say it. I asked if the officers would please go look in the woods to check for carnage. They said they would, but did they? I didn’t hear back. The car appeared to be pretty much intact, but the alignment was almost certainly in need of adjustment after that tumble.

Once we were in his car, Michael told me to look in the vanity mirror – I had scratches on my face from the airbag! That’s when I noticed my ribs hurt too - all of them. The kids said they were ok to go to school so we dropped them off, and warned the principal about potential post-traumatic stress symptoms. Michael took me home for aspirin and a cleaning up, and then to get a rental car as I had plenty of Red House meetings to get to and deliveries to make. I was shaken though, and the day seemed awfully long. I was very happy to get into a hot bath later. Michael, in an attempt at gallows humor, brought me an empty glass of wine and returned with a bottle of Stag’s Leap! It was the Gypsy Camp Napa Valley red wine blend (www.stagsleap.com), chosen to help me heal and reconnect with the natural world, as the gypsies once did on Stag’s Leap land. (Huh?!)

I promised the kids that next weekend we’d go to the “crash site” to leave flowers and say goodbye - or good luck, as applicable - to “unknown beige deer” or “Jane Doe”(!). I will say that I hope he or she is still with us, and thankful to be alive and running in the beautiful Napa Valley – on one side of the road only. Cross no more, fair woods-dweller, and may your nick heal quickly!

Career Opportunities x 3.

Yes! Which is to say the answer is NO! Michael’s mega bank potential employer has decided to reopen its search for a dedicated full time employee! It didn’t say no to him, it just said maybe later, dude. And meanwhile, it would like to utilize Michael’s talents as a consultant on specific projects. He can do it all, right? Focus on Red House numbers while advising the bank now and then? This I like - as it means no major changes at home or Red House - for now, anyway. What an instant mood elevator and anxiety reducer! (And I’ve needed it!) I told him I might even be willing to hop a plane to Charlotte with my overnight bag if he’s working on something. Meanwhile, I’m thinking a celebratory “bullet-dodged” dinner at Martini House and a nice bottle of Anderson Valley’s Roederer Brut Rosé are in order – Cheers!

And there’s yet more employment news to report as niece Natalie has taken a first step towards a career involving her love of marine life. It is a small step, but could be significant in both determining her interest level and coming up with a longer-range plan of action. Nat’s going to spend her mornings taking care of office fish! She’ll be driving a van full of chemicals and “replacements” to various medical and dental offices, recovery centers (!) and managed care facilities where tanks of active finned friends add a measure of calm, color and distraction to people’s lives. She’ll clean and feed and tend to the dead (fish only!) as necessary. There’s a larger variety of critters swimming in tanks here in the twin valleys than I would have guessed, and maintaining the correct ph levels in salt and freshwater, and learning what swims well with others will be part of Nat’s day. I think it’s great! Afternoons she’ll still be helping out at Stefan’s parents’ winery. So, this is going to be a very busy 20 year old and I can also take comfort in that. And I bet my sister and her husband are having their own celebratory dinner for this milestone.

Finally, we made Kerin’s day by formally changing her job title from Receptionist to Client Relations Manager, with new business cards to prove it. There’s a raise too, which came earlier so she could qualify for the loan on the condo she’s buying. She’ll continue to be my right hand on client contact and new business development, plus gaining more experience as my design assistant – too much for one person’s business card. For now though, she still has to answer the phones!

Goin’ to Grgich.

Here’s a winery that’s easy to find and hard to leave – Grgich Hills Estate, located in Rutherford just off Hwy 29, parallel to the Silverado Trail (www.grgich.com). Founder Mike Grgich, though not mentioned in Bottle Shock, is the winemaker who crafted the 1973 Chateau Montelena Napa chardonnay that stunned the world by winning the1976 blind tasting in Paris. His wine beat out the fabled white Burgundies of France, and not only gave Mike instant stardom in the wine world but also secured Napa’s place forever on the map of world-class winemaking. There would be no looking back to hippie roots and laid back winemaking techniques, bong over-use and tasting from Mason jars. That’s what Bottle Shock would have you believe Napa was all about before 1976. I prefer to think it was mostly just a quieter place of fewer wineries and small-yield vintners doing their own thing - some perhaps waiting for that big break that did come. The tasting triumph took Napa from a sleepy hamlet to the huge business that it is today. (Though it would have been fun to experience it in the hippie era…)

When you visit the Grgich Hills tasting room, you might even see Mike Grgich in his trademark blue beret, though he’s in his mid-“80’s now and leaving the heavy lifting to daughter and winemaker, Violet, and his nephew Ivo. He’s earned the right to rest on his laurels, having been inducted into the Vintner’s Hall of Fame. He’s big on philanthropy too, supporting Napa causes via the annual wine auction, as well as in his leadership efforts to eradicate land mines in his native Croatia. (Referred to as “replacing mines with vines”!) And Grgich wines have been enjoyed at state dinners by U.S. presidents, Queen Elizabeth, and even the very French (!) François Mitterrand.

There’s nothing not to like at Grgich Hills Estate. All fruit used in their six wines is from their own vineyards. Innovation is key; so all 366 acres are certified organic and have been converted to biodynamic growing techniques. And, the winery is solar-powered.

While the signature wine at Grgich Hills Estates continues to be its inimitable chardonnay (one of my very top favorites to splurge on!) you will find the same supreme commitment to craft in their other wines. But on the subject of the chard, keep in mind that the Grgich is a sublime experience in the lighter, French winemaking tradition - not the BIG, firecracker fruit of (the also beloved) Rombauer chardonnay. These are two very different experiences. And make sure you try the richly powerful Grgich Zinfandel, the grape, Mike believes, originated in Croatia as the Crljenak. (Don’t ask me to pronounce it as it took me a year just to get Grgich right!) Another wine I love is their complex and airy Fumé Blanc – it’s easy to pair with food. Their Cabernet Sauvignon holds its own in a valley of masterful cabs. There’s a Merlot too, which I have not yet tried – sorry. And for dessert, Violetta, named for Mike’s daughter. It’s one of the most complex wines in the dessert category, and a very special treat. Serve this with some cheese biscuits and your guests will never want you to bake again.

Oh, you know how I said I am opposed to purchasing items for White Elephant parties? I had to break my own edict when I saw a Mike Grgich bobblehead for sale in the tasting room. But how will I be able to part with it?!

The monkey woman and me.

Never underestimate women of a certain age who have their priorities etched in stone. I’ll know better next time. I found myself with a client I thought I understood. Someone fun and free-spirited like my mother. In fact, she was referred by my mother, who met her at a yoga class on her last visit to Calistoga Ranch. My new client headed a chapter of an organization she said was much like the Red Hat Society. You’ve seen that group – red hats, purple and red clothing and accessories, a visual proclamation that they would not go quietly into old age nursing their regrets. Instead, they are about celebrating (or distracting themselves from) the ravages of time with book discussions, historical tours and many, many gin and tonics over brunch. My client’s organization was a less visible version of this group with pretty much the same reason for being. They wear something red, but not fire engine red, and no purple is paired with it. They fancy themselves closer to Indiana Jones than Patti La Belle, favoring the kind of the upscale safari look – silk blend olive drab cargo pants and fishing vests that Banana Republic used to be about in the “80’s. (Also when Abercrombie and Fitch was where golfers shopped!) She said they do more than celebrate themselves and are currently sponsoring an endangered frog in Madagascar. Got to like that!

The group wanted jackets and loved almost everything about the Red House Pima Interlock Jacket (RH08). Especially that it was lightweight, very soft and featured slimming princess lines. And Ruby was just the right, subtle shade of red for them. My client asked for no embroidered crest or logo. Instead, she had commissioned her own zipper pulls, that she presented to me – little silver monkeys, which she said suggested both whimsy and unpredictability. I told her we could replace our embossed leather zipper pulls with them, no problem. (Red House’s first improvisation involving monkeys!) Squinting very closely at the monkey face I saw a look of utter seriousness; I should have taken that to heart.

What the ladies did not like about the Pima Jacket was that it had full-length sleeves. It needed to have bracelet length sleeves to afford a few inches of forearm freedom, as they were always on the go. Besides, they wear watches and compasses and like to show off bracelets they purchase at craft fairs and souks around the world. (Really, they go to souks?!) Well, the whole purpose of a jacket, it seems to me, and which I mentioned, is to cover up for the purposes of warmth or modesty. She would not budge. I suggested they roll up the sleeves, á la Rosie The Riveter. She didn’t like the analogy, and mentioned that she was still in grammar school during Rosie’s WWII welding reign. (Oops!) We had reached an impasse and it took me slightly longer than it should have to say, “We can make those shorter sleeves a reality for you.” I was protectively clinging to the idea of Red House designs as my babies, and the client was right to ask for what she needed. And you know what? I liked the abbreviated look. Who knows - Red House may consider a line of bracelet length jackets, shirts and sweaters.

Get this, a couple weeks later I got a postcard… from Madagascar! My client and several from their group went to see how their frog was faring! In an effort to ensure I will be that adventurous in my 70’s, I tried on my own Red House pima jacket in Ruby with a purple T-shirt underneath, but nah, the look was not for me. I don’t do monkeys either.

Shock in Charlotte.

I found myself unable to concentrate on anything while I was waiting for Michael to get the reaction of the Big Bank to the unusual “Napa lifestyle preservation” request. (I prefer DEMAND to request, but I’m not there.) He said he’d call me right away, but hours went by without a call. Kerin and I actually had a great brainstorming session on creative and cost-effective ways to keep clients happy and thinking about us. We came up with lots of new ideas to remind them of our commitment to quality and service. I might send individual postcards from my next trip to China, like, “Wish you were here – to see the fabulous silk piqué I just found!” And how about wine tasting or blending parties? Maybe have a local chef come and teach us to prepare a famous dish. Again, we will be doing follow up calls to see how well received our product was. And we are going to try to get clients to send us group shots of their employees, fellow committee members and families wearing their Red House shirts, sweaters, etc. Or, we’d volunteer to take pictures ourselves, for an album in our reception room. Testimonials would be nice to have also. And after last year’s harried but successful delivery of shirts with changed cork-like buttons (plus a light breakfast to each wine grower-recipient’s hotel room!) we want to do more along the lines of memorable deliveries. (But maybe less stressful than that night’s efforts!) We also talked strategy for seeking new business. We can always do more of that. Wine country events, country clubs, organizations – there’s lots of untapped work out there for Red House. Too bad Michael wasn’t there to participate in our meeting!

Finally, my cell phone buzzed with news from Charlotte. Apparently, he shocked the bank, which had no idea that Michael had any intention of less than a fulltime-and-forever commitment. As Michael is not big on expressing conflict, it does not surprise me that they had no clue. In fact, they had just presented him with a big envelope of relocation info, including real estate listings and glossy private school brochures when he brought up the caveats. So now, Human Resources needs to have a sit-down with the captains and figure out how (or if) they can utilize Michael in their organization. I have to hand it to him though, he had completely thought through his negotiation strategy before meeting with them today. (And I thought he was lame with details!) He specified a three-day workweek, flying east every Sunday and back to Napa Wednesday nights. It may not have been what I had wanted him to counter with, but it could work. And he made sure that what he could do for them, even with less of a time commitment, was emphasized very carefully. We await their next move. Me, from the edge of my seat on needles and pins. Michael, from his perpetual state of calm. Where does that come from?! Sigh.

A Dose of D&D

There’s another tasting room you must have on your list – Eric Ross Winery on the Sonoma side in Glen Ellen. Check it out: www.ericross.com. Michael and I discovered it one sunny Sunday when we were just tourists and we’ve been going back for the wine – and the conversation - ever since.

The winery was started by John Ross Storey and Eric Luse, two San Francisco newspaper photographers who probably met while jockeying for position to get the best shot of something interesting. (And believe me, there’s always something interesting in SF!) Or maybe love of wine brought them together, I’ll have to find out. Either way, they became successful winemakers, and that does not usually happen for a couple of regular folks. Curiously, the winery website offers sparse details about the two. Sounds kind of like they found themselves on a hill overlooking scenic vineyards and declared themselves winemakers. They combined their names and rest is awards history. As a business owner I’d say there’s more to the story, and I wish Red House had had such an easy birth. There’s a photo of the smiling pair on the website, and all that’s missing are Red House shirts. (Well, I had to say that!)

Dennis and Diane are the tasting room managers. They are the real deal. They know their wines and each other. How do they survive working together like that?! I mean, I work with my husband too - but not THAT close. And even though Michael and I are usually in agreement on business decisions, there are times the travel aspect of my job is a welcome escape. (Sorry for wanting to throttle you sometimes, Michael.) Let’s just say that like all couples, we prefer to handle life’s little details in vastly different ways.

And so do D&D, as they call themselves. They’ve been married a lonnnng time, and fortunately, each copes with the other's quirks with humor - at least while we’ve been watching (!!) I wonder how they’d handle the arrival of a limousine full of tipsy tourists right at closing time after a busy summer day… Would one of them run to the back room and hide? That’s what I’d do! (And this is why D&D haven’t asked Michael and me to fill in so they could have a weekend away.)

Our favorite Eric Ross wine is the Poulet D’Or Pinot Noir. The Russian River Valley pinots are something Michael and I do agree on, and the photographers know how to make this wine. Do a side-by-side comparison of the Eric Ross pinots from the different vineyards – see if you can taste the influences of the soil and climate. Another delight is the Marsane-Rousanne, a lovely summer-drinking white wine with a minerality that reminds me of France. I also enjoy their 2007 viognier. I’d compare it the 2006 and 2007, if only I had saved any. Sigh. Even if you don’t live nearby, their wine club is a good one - offering 20% off, and as Rooster Club members we also get to attend winery events pairing the wines we love with foods we wish we could make. D&D have a knack for the complex recipes, but so far, they’ve not attempted anything with rooster meat.

Out of gas and out of mind.

Michael. Wonderful husband and father, Type B banking guy, good with numbers except ZERO, as in no gas, no fumes, no luck - start walking! That was my man last week. And why?! I’ve been thinking about this for days. A fluke? A brain focused on the Charlotte job? Must be that, as the gauge works fine and it had been pointing to “E” for a while.

We were on our way to the San Francisco Symphony (www.sfsymphony.org) for an evening that promised to take us away from thoughts of a fragmented life in Charlotte. Plus, it’s winter, even here, and as mild as it is I’m ready for spring - and music is nothing if not transcendental. We dressed up, as about half the people do at the symphony. The other half, well…anything goes in SF. At one chamber music concert there was a guy in a delicate ladies’ slip accessorized with rustic (!) turquoise jewelry.... (???!)Anyway, we had reservations at Farallon (farallonrestaurant.com), one of my favorite seafood restaurants and with décor inspired by Nautilus himself. This was going to be an incredible evening!

Except for a pesky gap between expectation and reality. We were maybe five miles from the house. I was using my BlackBerry to email myself reminders for the next day when the car suddenly sputtered and died. There wasn’t a warning, a few coasting miles of realization that the end was near, it simply was. I may have used some colorful language as we slowed to a dead stop, however unusual that might be for me. Now what? It was dark, and we were obviously not anywhere near a gas station. We were in my car so I knew there was a gas can in back, but no, not any more, it turns out, Michael had removed it to get gas for the lawn mower months ago and did not replace it – ahhhh! Just like my toolbox, good scissors and my dental floss! I was madder than ever and stepped out of the car to think, and as I did, my feet made a thwook sound – I realized to my horror that I had stepped into about 6” of mud in my Jimmy Choo pumps! Yes, I got them on sale, but Jimmy Choos!!! At this point I yelped (or screamed, according to Michael). He got out to help me and the submerged shoes back into the car. I had adopted a childish “don’t touch me” posture and I’m sure my face was a rictus of fury. He retrieved the roll of paper towels I keep in the back seat. Funny, he hadn’t removed that also. As I was occupied, angrily cleaning off the muddy suede, Michael wisely decided to seek help for our predicament and/or seek safe distance from Mad Maddie.

One thing about Michael that has always irked me is his luck. He just has this ability to turn lemons into lemonade. (I hate that expression.) And so, not ten minutes later he was back, smiling. He had flagged down a truck of farm workers, and without speaking a word of Spanish he managed to communicate his dilemma and gave them money for a can of gas. I knew he believed we’d be off in a few minutes. Sure enough, the Saviors of Chevron returned with fuel, and Michael gave them a nice tip. But we weren’t off in a few minutes, as it proved nearly impossible to open the new can’s nozzle. Michael wrestled with it, using some colorful language of his own, even (gross!) attempting to bite off the cap, then digging at it with the corkscrew from the glove box. (Had we had a flashlight he would have seen the “squeeze and turn” instructions I noticed the next day.) He finally succeeded and we were off. No time for dinner, but drinks were what mattered at that point – after a stop at Saks for shoes. (I walked in wearing the damaged shoes, not trusting Michael to choose a replacement pair for me.)

The concert was great, a real treat. And afterward, we shared a late-night seafood platter at Farallon’s stylish bar. What I’ll remember most about this evening though was the aftermath of hanging up 22 button-down shirts, after midnight, in various spots in and outside the house to air out noxious gas fumes. (The neighbors must have thought I was nuts, but it wouldn’t be the first time.) The shirts had been in the trunk that evening because they were ready to be delivered to a client. The gas can, thanks to an abused nozzle, had leaked its last pungent drops into the trunk. (Grrrr, Michael!)