Spent quite a lot on getting totally pished, feeling sick and buying a kebab on Friday night - but let's not talk about that, hey! I think it came out of cash I'd already withdrawn so who knows...

Balance, anyway, is £371.87

Still need to save some, buy train ticket, buy Euros etc.

Ooh, I had some good ideas for Christmas pressies: a teapot for Mum and a recipe book/takeaway menu file for Sally!

In fact I would wait a whole week to see how the markets recovered as only when you stop focusing on one thing are you able to see other things more clearly. Sure the market did drop but there has already been a recovery in Asia and Europe, all be they less exposed to interbank trading than their US counter parts. So by the weekend the US congress will more than likely re-evaluate and propose a new life line which should stabilize the market until the next bear attack. 

On the worst trading day in Wall Street history a few stocks actually bucked the trend, Campbell Soup being one of them. When times get tough middle class people will stock pile necessity goods, while the upper and lower class will carry on regardless.  They either have nothing too loose or have the financial prowess to overcome most market and political hiccups. 

The wine industry has taken this age old norm and developed creative tools ensuring that their revenue streams continue flowing. Many wineries such as Thelema (Mountain Red) and at times de Trafford (Plan B) have a wicked red wine priced between R50-R60 a bottle. They understand that the majority of their customers are starting to feel the pinch and through these wines they should retain at least some brand loyalty. What we must remember is that these wineries have always had premium priced wines in relation to the local industry, so it is only logical for them to enter the market at the middle end.

Most of the local marketing hype is focused on wines targeted at the upper class customer. Here decadence is king and opulence the norm. 

This reminds me of a story in the US where one race horse breeder decided to differentiate himself in the market. The breeder gave a competitor, who was also in on the scam, a million USD on the basis that at the next yearling auction he would buy a specific mare for the astronomical price.  He got another party to start the bidding war and when the price got to the agreed amount the transaction was concluded as arranged. By giving away one horse in theory the breeder could claim that his mares where worth one million USD and the owner of the new mare could sell the progeny at a similar high price.  Not rocket since but once again proving how easy it is to influence the price of luxury items.

As consumers we always have the option whether to buy an item or not. If you find yourself complaining about the exorbitant wine prices in the market don’t take it personally, but that wine was never meant for you in the first place.

The upper echelons of the global wine market respects first pedigree, then rarity, then rating and lastly price.  

We have the ability to influence rarity and price, but the market will decide on the rest.  It is always more difficult to fill a Broadway show on the second night, if there is one.

Cheers

ACiD

So I can surmise, we don't like rain, I should have been a famous Chef, I drink to much and I am a popular bath seller, sometimes.

"...drinking."

I look around but don't see any cups or bottles on the desk. Then I notice the large wine bottle that she showed to me last night -- a 1.5 liter bottle of Sutter Home that she had gotten sometime over the weekend without me knowing it. It was lying next to her on the spare guest bed we have. It was about 75% gone, which is the level it was at last night.

I check the time -- 10:30 a.m. I grab the bottle and head out of the room, but she is back up on her feet, yelling at me. She thinks I'm going to pour it out. I tell her that I won't let her have any -- she hasn't been sober for two days, and she can't start drinking again today and ruin the whole day for me. Again.

Eventually, we come up to the same wall we always get to in our arguments when she's drunk: she gives me some bullshit ultimatum and threatens to do something. This morning she said something like:

"Okay, here's the deal. You either let me drink the rest of this wine, or else I go and walk down and buy a new bottle and drink as much as I want."

As always, I'm cornered by her compulsion to drink. I hold out a little while and grab her debit card from her purse while she's not looking. She doesn't drive (thank God) -- never has -- so she walks everywhere or takes the bus (or a taxi). She starts to make good on her threat, and I wait until she gets to the sidewalk to remind her to look for her debit card before she goes. She realizes that I have it and comes back to the house.

We're at a standstill. Whenever we get to this point, I always let her have her way. I'd rather she be "safely in sight" rather than walking down a busy street with no sidewalks (like around where we live). And the closest store that sells anything is at least two miles away. I want to let her go and let her learn from her own mistakes, but being with an alcoholic is, much of the time, like babysitting. If I let her go at this point (she doesn't really know what she's doing), then she could get really, really hurt.

She ended up drinking the rest of the wine, becoming giddy for an hour or two. I try to preserve my Sunday -- the sun is out and the wind is blowing slightly and it's not too hot. It's a perfect day and when we get to a local park, Em acknowledges this:

"I can feel the sun passing through me... Don't you just love listening to the wind blowing in the trees?"

She says this as she topples backwards into a field, looking like she is going to start making snow angels in the dry grass.

* * * * *

At around 6:30 p.m., I am scrambling to set up this blog. It's not working very well -- our internet connection is being very testy. Emily had been watching Millions earlier. This is one of her favorite movies -- it's about a young British boy whose mother has just died. He reads a lot about Catholic saints and he starts seeing visions of them everywhere. He comes across a load of money in a field, and he decides (with advice from the saints) that he will use it to help the poor.

It's a movie that was masterfully crafted, and Em reminds me of this:

"It's just so smart... introducing the train like a character in the beginning... 'It wasn't just about the money'... this is so beautiful."

One of Em's reasons for watching this, though, is because her grandmother is not doing so well. We took a trip a week ago to see Em's grandmother, who slipped and fell and fractured something in her back. She's 93 and she's still fighting -- she wants to get out of the rehab clinic and go back to her home, where she lives by herself (though Em's parents trade off going to her every day).

Emily bawls her eyes out near the end, when the boy (spoiler alert) has a vision of his mother. It's a lovely scene, and even I get choked up a bit (even though I've seen it twice before) -- I can't imagine how this is affecting Emily, who is still sipping a beer throughout the movie. She knows her grandmother won't last forever, but Em doesn't know why.

By the time 7 o'clock rolls around, I need to go to practice with my band -- we have a show tomorrow night and we need this practice. I can't call it off. Luckily, Emily is fast asleep, and I hope that she stays that way. I pour out the brandy (I leave a tiny trickle in case she wakes up and looks for more booze, which is inevitable... I think foolishly that leaving a tiny bit will satisfy her need). She wakes up right before I leave and I ask her to promise me that she will stay at home. She has loads of homework to do for her college classes tomorrow, and I know for a fact that she will do none of it tonight.

* * * * *

It's about 2:30 a.m. now, and I have work at 8 (well, that's the current plan, anyway). I stop typing every few minutes to listen for Emily's breathing, which reminds me of when my mother told me that she stayed up an entire night one night when my brother was younger. He had pneumonia and my mother stayed up all night, pressing her ear to his chest and making sure he was breathing out of his mouth.

Em is on the living room floor, on a futon cushion that we put on the floor on Friday, when I was coaxing her into allowing me to give her a backrub, so she'd fall asleep. I just spent the last two hours holding onto her, making she was breathing. Every so often, she would slump onto the cushion and lay still and not breathe at all. After a few seconds, I would shake her, and she would inhale deeply and start talking again.

"I'm such a bad girl... I fuck everything up... God, grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change and the courage... I can't remember the prayer!"

About an hour ago, she told me that she had gone to get a bottle of wine while I was out tonight. She had taken a cab down, and when she got back, she had drunk an entire 1.5 liter of sangria within the two hours that I was away from the house. I find the empty bottle in her closet as proof, but don't know if she means that she drank it tonight -- she is too drunk to make much sense. About fifteen minutes later, though, after I give her a few sips of water, she begins to make gagging noises. I roll her over and point her head over the cushion. In the poorly lit living room, I can't tell if it's blood or wine is coming out of her mouth, but a lot of something is going all over the tile. It's wine.

I consider calling an ambulance, but I remember times when I've held her as she's gone limp in my arms, her eyes rolling up into her head. At least now she's talking frequently, and sobbing frequently, and when she asks to go pee, she is walking at least partially with a lot of my help. I was reminded of the desperate scene in Babel as I held Emily upright on the toilet while she urinated. I give her a cup of water while she's up and ask what she wants to do. She wants to lie back down. I can do that.

She was calmer and quieter, and eventually she feel asleep. Now I'm wondering what to do -- it's been an hour or so since she feel asleep and she's breathing fine now, and I'm fairly certain that anything that would have happened would have happened by now. I will sleep next to her on the cushion and set an alarm to see how things are in the morning. I might have to call in to work again (it wouldn't be the first time) to stay home and make sure she sobers up.

Friguia, 14^th June 2008.

When we planned our holiday this year, we were torn between a wildlife safari in Kenya and Tunisia. If we’d gone to Kenya, I’d have had to take a film camera as well, because ‘Long Tom’ won’t fit on my D40X, and so I have to save for a telephoto for that, too. And, if my video camera had packed up in Kenya rather than Tunisia … I would indeed have, as Bram Stoker said ‘ … spoke polyglot, with much bloom and blood’.

Nevertheless, we did see animals when we signed up for a trip to the safari park at Friguia.

It’s not only African animals we see. There’s tigers, kangaroos and black swans, too, all kept in an habitat as natural as possible … although I feel that the sign above the black swan enclosure, stating it contained black swans was a bit of a ‘statement of the bleedin’ obvious’

But, the object of the visit wasn’t only to see the animals. It was to attend a ‘folkloric evening’ at their restaurant. I’d estimated it would seat about a thousand people … and every seat was taken. Nevertheless, the service was quick and efficient, and we were entertained by Tunisian singers and dancers, as well as Africans from further south.

My memory of the meal is a bit hazy, as the more ‘Vin de Mess’ I took on, the more garbled and indecipherable my notes became. But, I do remember someone saying ‘This is another Vin de Mess you’ve gotten me into, Stanley!’ However, I can read the bit that tells me the brik we were served as a starter is a kind of crispy pancake stuffed with potato, herbs and a fried egg. And, the main course was Djerba Island rice (with vegetables) with stewed chicken, which they told us was a speciality of Matmata.

Shadows consume
the space       where eyes belong.

Dirty needle
plays a distorted melody
of a solemn son's
half-written, unpolished story.
The blood in his veins
become the quiet stains
on a saint's cassock,
strung upon the wood
for the world.
Drink from the cup,
the blood tastes like wine
and copper on the tongue.
A sad song
will never be sung
to the beat of his feet on the concrete,
all blackened with time.

Some of you know that not only do I enjoy the fermented grape juice that is wine, but I also am a Wine Consultant (www.winewithgraham.com).  I host wine tastings, so I am around wine on a "professional" level nearly every week.  This gives me a wonderful opportunity to taste new wines, new variatials, and hear a lot of great wine recomendations from the guests of these tastings.  There is so much great wine out there, and it's a lot of fun to explore the wonderful wine regions in the US, and around the world.  I'm glad I get to be a part of it, and I hope you enjoy my wine reviews, comments, and experiences on this page!

Cheers, Graham

I just opened a bottle of Northwest Cellars 2004 Merlot. Wow!! This is a big wine! The first thing you notice is it's beautiful dark, rich color, so it is not surprising that it is laden with tastes of dark fruit and spice. It gives a nice pucker in the back of your mouth. Excellent!! And a good deal too! I paid just over $7 for it. I had found it in the clearance section at the local QFC. The original price tag says $10.99 and on the winery's site it sells for $13.99. Cool! Looks like I got myself a deal!

The wine itself isn't just Merlot. It is a blend of 80% merlot, 16% Cabernet Sauvingnon and 4% Syrah. Well that figures!! I tend to like blends better than true varietals and this one is no exception. The label is a beautiful blue-toned Seattle scene (Lake Union?).

I went to check out Northwest Cellars' website - they are local, but I didn't know anything about them. They are a relatively new winery to the Northwest, started in 2004. And they just opened a tasting room in Kirkland last month. That's right across the lake! I need to go. Sounds like a good place for date-night.

The other cool thing about the winery is that you can order custom labels to go with your wine selections. With Christmas not too far away and several wine drinkers on my list, I may have found a creative new present!

The footage below was found on YouTube regarding the discovery of this bowl:

The report from the Christian Telegraph now follows:

Scientists find ancient bowl that may call Jesus a magician

In what is certainly to be a controversial speculation too hard for many Evangelical Christians to swallow, scientists claim they have found an ancient bowl that refers to Jesus Christ as a magician, reports Michael Ireland, chief correspondent, ASSIST News Service.

A team of scientists led by renowned French marine archaeologist Franck Goddio recently announced that they have found the bowl, dating to between the late 2nd century B.C. and the early 1st century A.D., that is engraved with what they believe could be the world's first known reference to Christ.

In an online article by Jennifer Viegas of the Discovery Channel posted to the MSNBC website, scientists say the engraving reads, "DIA CHRSTOU O GOISTAIS," which has been interpreted to mean either, "by Christ the magician" or, "the magician by Christ."

The MSNBC article says that if the word "Christ" refers to the Biblical Jesus Christ, as is speculated, then the discovery may provide evidence that Christianity and paganism at times intertwined in the ancient world.

"It could very well be a reference to Jesus Christ, in that he was once the primary exponent of white magic," said archaeologist Goddio, who is co-founder of the Oxford Center of Maritime Archaeology.

In her article, Viegas says that Goddio and his colleagues found the object during an excavation of the underwater ruins of Alexandria's ancient great harbor. The Egyptian site also includes the now submerged island of Antirhodos, where Cleopatra's palace may have been located.

Viegas says that both Goddio and Egyptologist David Fabre, a member of the European Institute of Submarine Archaeology, think a "magus" could have practiced fortune telling rituals using the bowl. The Book of Matthew refers to "wisemen," or Magi, believed to have been prevalent in the ancient world.

According to Fabre, the bowl is also very similar to one depicted in two early Egyptian earthenware statuettes that are thought to show a soothsaying ritual.

"It has been known in Mesopotamia probably since the 3rd millennium B.C.," Fabre said. "The soothsayer interprets the forms taken by the oil poured into a cup of water in an interpretation guided by manuals."

Fabre added that the individual, or "medium," then goes into a hallucinatory trance when studying the oil in the cup.

"They therefore see the divinities, or supernatural beings appear that they call to answer their questions with regard to the future," he said.

Viegas writes that scientists theorize the magus might then have used the engraving on the bowl to legitimize his supernatural powers by invoking the name of Christ.

Goddio said, "It is very probable that in Alexandria they were aware of the existence of Jesus" and of his associated legendary miracles, such as transforming water into wine, multiplying loaves of bread, conducting miraculous health cures, and the story of the resurrection itself.

Viegas explains that while not discounting the Jesus Christ interpretation, other researchers have offered different possible interpretations for the engraving, which was made on the thin-walled ceramic bowl after it was fired, since slip was removed during the process.

Bert Smith, a professor of classical archaeology and art at Oxford University, suggests the engraving might be a dedication, or present, made by a certain "Chrestos" belonging to a possible religious association called Ogoistais.

Klaus Hallof, director of the Institute of Greek inscriptions at the Berlin-Brandenburg Academy, added that if Smith's interpretation proves valid, the word "Ogoistais" could then be connected to known religious groups that worshipped early Greek and Egyptian gods and goddesses, such as Hermes, Athena and Isis.

Hallof additionally pointed out that historians working at around, or just after, the time of the bowl, such as Strabon and Pausanias, refer to the god "Osogo" or "Ogoa," so a variation of this might be what's on the bowl. It is even possible that the bowl refers to both Jesus Christ and Osogo.

Fabre concluded: "It should be remembered that in Alexandria, paganism, Judaism and Christianity never evolved in isolation. All of these forms of religion (evolved) magical practices that seduced both the humble members of the population and the most well-off classes."

"It was in Alexandria where new religious constructions were made to propose solutions to the problem of man, of God's world," he added. "Cults of Isis, mysteries of Mithra, and early Christianity bear witness to this."

The bowl is currently on public display in the exhibit "Egypt's Sunken Treasures" at the Matadero Cultural Center in Madrid, Spain, until November 15.

Report from the Christian Telegraph

Yesterday, Jason and I went on a wine tour around Seneca Lake with a group of people from our church. We left the church parking lot at 6:45 a.m. in a limo bus, and didn't get home until around 9:30 p.m. In that amount of time, we stopped at 6 wineries, drank countless samples, laughed like crazy, ate too much, and purchased, the two of us alone, 35 bottles of wine.

It was a great day.

    I first heard about this place in January while flipping thru the Modesto View.  The paper had done a feature on the new shop, which had opened beginning of December '07.  I was suprised to see the picture of Bill and "some lady"...  I had to call and scope out the situation.  Diane answered and we exchanged pleasantries - I told her I knew Bill from the Wine Shop and BevMo (as do most of our guests) and I told her I was very happy she and Bill had opened this little bistro.  Our town needed this place since the Wine Shop closed down!  I told her I'd be in to dine soon.

     Four months later...I finally made it out to Sips and shame on me for waiting!  I brought my mom-in-law, Linda, for a girl's lunch.  We fell in love immediately.  With everything.  The ambiance; cozy and inviting with out being pretentious.  The wine shop - a varied selection and I was definitely able to find most of my favorites.  The ceasar salad we split was fresh and zingy.  The grilled chicked sandwich on foccacia we shared was equally delicious, perfectly complimented by the pesto aioli spread.  And then there was the broccoli salad.  This fusion of complimentarily contrasted flavors and textures can hardly be just classified as a broccoli salad - it's loaded with silky cheddar cheese, chewy dried cranberries, crisp red onion & walnuts, and smoky applewood bacon.  I swear I could eat that salad 3 meals a day!

    I loved the concept, and asked Bill if they needed any servers.  I knew that it would be an immense experience to learn wines from Bill.  And I knew that my days with "the-restaurant-who-shall-not-be-named" made me a perfect candidate to assist in marketing and building Sips' business wherever Diane would like to use me.  I'm really excited about our potential at the Christmas season.  So call today and book us for your company or personal catering needs!

   Whatever reason endears you, please come and come back often to our proud little establishment.  Enjoy the tastes, enjoy the flights; but most of all enjoy yourself.  I look forward to seeing you there!  Tuesday 4-7 is Happy Hour, I'm there 530 to 730 so those are the happiest hours.  You can also catch me 3 lunches a week, Wed - Fri from 1145(ish) until 230.   www.sipsbistro.com

Namaste

Other than that, life has been pretty quiet.  This weekend, I've been catching up on my sleep, attempting to do homework, and wandering around the city a little bit.  I'm off to Lisbon, Portugal next weekend with two friends as well as the lovely Ms. Andrea Briceno so there are many good times ahead with that.  I also have booked a hostel for London at the end of the month, so I will not be sleeping on the streets, which is also great.

That's about it for now, folks.  I should go do work, but honestly, I'll probably end up looking online for wine tastings in Lisbon.  Hasta Luego!

I've been drinking Red Cloud's Finest, an organic Antigua Guatemalan coffee distributed by EL LAGO Coffee Company, since a friend gave me a pound of beans as a gift.  It tastes as good as any I've found, and the story behind the company is unusual, to say the least.

Joe and Terry Butcher dream of importing coffee the old-fashioned way - by sailing ship.  Their first voyage ended disastrously, on New Year's Day of 2008, with their ship and its entire cargo of coffee beans going to the bottom of Sigsbee Deep, a place in the Gulf of Mexico where recovery is simply impossible.  They were missing a few things on that voyage - including insurance and a rudder stop - but the dream lives on.  Not only will they be carrying a back cargo of humanitarian and school supplies on their way to pick up their next shipment of beans, the movement back to wind-powered transport is one they're convinced makes environmental sense.

I had read and heard of Terry and Joe, but never had the pleasure of meeting them until yesterday, when they appeared in a mostly-vacant lot in Clear Lake Shores, Texas, that used to hold boats.  They'd been joined by the Sea Scouts, a few flea-marketeers and a fellow selling a rather nice life raft (to provide that added margin of safety and security during the rest of hurricane season).

Their place of business had been destoyed by hurricane Ike, but they had their sign, and were handing out free cups of coffee while promoting their product.  I stopped and chatted, had a cup of coffee, and then noticed a cooler full of wine bottles.  Terry saw me looking, and pointed out a bottle sitting on the table next to the coffee pots.  It was from the Frascone Winery of Oak Island, Texas, another place almost literally wiped off the map by Hurricane Ike. 

While she and Joe hadn't been able to salvage their hold full of coffee, they had helped to salvage some of the Frascone wine.  Now, they were selling it, with half of the proceeds going back to Jim and Glenda Frascone, who produced the wine in the first place.

The Frascone Winery in Oak Island certainly wasn't the first Frascone attempt at wine-making.  In a web page devoted to his rather unusually-named Biker's Blood  "outlaw" wine, Jim Frascone says,

"My wine-making started with my family back in the 1950s and 60s, when we were a close-knit Italian family living on the upper east side of St. Paul, Minnesota. I grew up across the street from my grandparents, aunts and uncles.  The entire neighborhood was Italian, and each family created its own speciality wines.  Some made dry dago red wines like my family, and others made sweet white wines like our friends."

The family would have been proud of Jim and Glenda.  Their wines were made by hand, using a 120-year old wine press, with a little hand-squeezing (and foot-stomping) thrown in from time to time, just for fun.  The process didn't differ much from that used in the old Minneapolis neighborhood, when the D'Aloias and the Frascone clan did their yearly pressing.

Like a closely-knit family, the friends, neighbors and employees at "Frascone South" worked, played, struggled and drank together, never imagining that their location as the Texas winery closest to the Gulf would be their undoing.  Everyone along the coast "knows" that a hurricane is possible, but that possibility seems remote and slightly unreal, until it happens. 

When Ike showed up, it wasn't just the winery that disappeared. So did the Frascone home, their village, and a multitude of destinations dear to Texas birders, beachcombers and fishing enthusiasts.  Jim and Glenda's daughter Maria, who had come back to Oak Island for refuge after Katrina, will now be helping her parents cope with a new disaster.  After the storm, Maria said,

"The difference between Ike and Katrina is that here, the water came in and left, and there it stayed for a long time.  But it was just as devastating here as Katrina. There's nothing left."

Which brings us back to the wine.  According to an article posted in Wine Spectator, nearly 1,000 bottles of Frascone wine were lost because of the storm.  But not all was lost - many bottles were pulled from fields and ditches, washed off, and placed in coolers.  Their labels, with the lovely Frascone crest, were gone, and it was impossible to determine which varieties remained except in the most general sense - red or white by color, certain wines by bottle shape.

It was at this point, the pulling-wine-out-of-the-storm-surge-debris point, that Joe and Terry Butcher showed up to take custody of some of what was left and begin selling it as a way of helping out the Frascone clan.  Since the bottles had no labels and were just waiting for a good-natured marketing ploy, it didn't take long for a new label to be created.

Now known as Le Frutta dell' Uragano (slightly mis-spelled, but never mind) the wine has been transformed into The Fruit of the Hurricane, with a label that reads, "Mystery wine salvaged from the Ike-Ravaged remnants of the Frascone Winery, Oak Island, TX". 

I bought some, of course.  Who wouldn't?  I don't drink a lot of wine and I'm no connoisseur, but I know enough to realize that lying about in the sunshine in a ditch full of Gulf water isn't going to improve anything except perhaps Old Muskrat (vintage, yesterday).  Nevertheless, I bought.

Last night, while doing a bit of reading about the Frascones and pondering the photograph on the label, I uncorked one of the reds.  It wasn't muddy at all, but a beautiful, clear claret.  It wasn't salty, like tears or seawater, or sharp and stinging, like a sudden upwelling of memory.  There was no edge of bitterness, like that which tinges a survivor's grief, and there was a taste both clear and dry, like a day made perfect for recovery.

Gazing out across the placid water, I raised my glass to Jim and Glenda, and Maria, and Oak Island and Anahuac.  Their community has been tossed together, pressed down, poured out - but they're good folk, and 2009 is coming.  It may be a very good year.

COMMENTS ARE WELCOME... To leave a comment or respond, please click below

I obtained this receipe traveling in rural central Mexico during the mid-1970's.  We drank this Sangria in Puebla looking at the then-dormant Popocatepetl volcano.   In the past thirty years, I've never found a Sangria recipe I enjoyed more.

Authentic Mexican Sangria (one serving):

2 liquid oz. simple syrup

1/2 lime, juice of

3 ice cubes

1/3 - 1/2 cup red wine

1 jigger of gin

1/2 cup soda water

Stir until fiz goes down.

--Madame Monet

Excess not Age
by Ian Weatherburn

I'm not geriatric. I know this quite well.
And yet; here it is so late at night
I sit and type this reluctant ode
In the weak yellow light of a beside lamp,
To a stomach that's not feeling so swell.

It grumbles, gurgles, moans and does mutter.
The red wine, meat and bread felt alright;
Until down my gullet and stomach it rode
Causing my head to spin, my stomach to cramp.
As I lay there restless I could feel my heart flutter.

A birthday had passed, a new age had befell
This old man here, he'd lost some of his might.
The mind was still willing, his body a toad?
What would tomorrow bring, a wheelchair? A ramp?
It was so frustrating; this feeling unwell.

Could it be the red meat, the real Woolworths butter?
Dreams and sweet sleep wouldn't come yet tonight.
So into the arms of an old friend I strode;
My computer, my keyboard, dear old WinAmp.
And just then she decided to spurt and to stutter!

Was this sympathy? Did she too feel unwell?
Or was it a request to perform that gave fright?
Together we may just retire to the comode
And spend the night there; even make camp.
No; a minor glitch in the CMOS, the boot screen did tell.

So now we're back up; let's continue the groundswell
Of blogging and rhyme and other computing delight.
Let the cramps and the nausea return to normal mode.
This nonsense we'll root out, on it we'll stamp!
Perhaps it was excess not age.  Please don't tell!

Australien

leicht und trocken

kraftvoll, gut eingebundene Tannine und Aroma von reifen Beerenfrüchten, saftigen schwarzen Kirschen und Pflaumen

Zu: dunklen Fleisch- und deftigen Schmorgerichten, aber auch würzigem Käse

Spätburgunder trocken, Pfalz

2007

Rewe

charaktervoll, elegant, Aroma reifer Kirschen, harmonischer Charakter

Zu: kräftigen Fleischspeisen und würzigem Käse

We love you

Funeral: St. Thomas Church, Kirkee , Pune

Monday: 2:30 p.m. 6^th October

This is very difficult. Not everyone's world famous, but there are people who are loved by all they meet. Reji Rajan, I could never call him that. For me he was always "Reggae" or "fatty." It's been exactly 4 years and 11 months we've known each other, we met in the last week of October in 2003, and probably today I know why the Oktoberfest always rang a bell.

Getting a job at Convergys helped us meet. We did everything young professionals do, parties, rebel, pass out and spend a lot of time together. We've spent days at an end together and never fought. We've gone to so many places together, travel was fun, but I know it'll never be the same again. He has a free spirit, he loved taking off.

He loved wine, never smoked a cigarette, didn't abuse and enjoyed being with people. Hard work, determination and a vision, he personified such measures. He worked at AXA, moved to 3G; I know he was doing well. We celebrated his birthday together this year. He handled it all as it came, success, situations, events and even the calling off of his wedding. He's the heights of being funny. He always bought me chocolates, each time.

I'll tell you something funny. He comes home one day and I'm like wait awhile, I'm just finishing. Then I'm like how come here, you're supposed to be elsewhere. He's like yes, then sits another 5 minutes and says I have a long holiday. So I'm like but that's for a reason.  He says, yes, then laughs and says I know was to be married; don't look so shocked the wedding got called off. He loved with his heart, people and religion. He always went through the lent period like a true Christian and converting to a Hindu was asking too much from a happy soul like him.

Our last meal was at Chaitanyas, and our last bottle of wine together was two oceans, last fast food, KFC, and last cake, his chocolate birthday cake. I never knew they'd be the end. I had no chairs at home; I had to get them super quick so Reggae could sit, because the recliner was uncomfortable. We watched sports together, news, discussed CPI (M) and all the funny people we've known. He loved Kerala and was a good mallu. Dear, we'll miss you. Till death do us apart, and you will always live on.