After insisting at work that I would only be avaiable to work every second Saturday, I worked 5 in a row (I sure showed them!) and intended to use my first free Saturday wisely. With undies and toothbrushes ready (sounds exciting so far), we headed to Jas and Mark's, who live nearby to the Yarra Valley (a.k.a. magical land of wine) for a day of tasting.
Our friends' 2 year old, Zoe, was her usual happy self. When simply helped into her coat by grandma, there to collect her, she erupted into a contagious, giggling joy. Yeah, go coats! Zoe's little sister Gwen didn't escape the winery tour (with her sober mother as driver!) and was less excited to see us, staring at me with horror as I squished in beside her capsule. As with anyone who looks at my face too long, she eventually started to cry, so I made her toy bunny bust out a range of dance moves to little avail. Something else on my hand did catch Gwen's eye, however - my engagement ring.. She need only be given a diamond encrusted rattle and she'll never make a peep. She was also interested in my nails, which I'd luckily painted blue with black crackle (I knew that would come in handy - and they told me it was a waste of time!).
Our first stop was Sticks winery, and after only a couple of sips, I slipped all too easily into my boisterous alter-ego. Our winery host described one drop as having a slight tabacco flavour, "unlike cigarettes, but more like a fine, tasty cigar."
"So," I interjected, "the kind of tabacco that's good for ya, then? Haw, haw, haw!" Yes, Rosie, you
cheap drunk. Hilarious.
When I turned my back for a moment, wine man filled my glass with water to rinse it before the dessert wine. To everyone's amusement, I missed that vital instruction and gagged when I sipped on wine-laced water instead of the sweet drink I'd expected. I thought it looked a bit pale! Drunk Rosie, score 2.
The second winery, which shall remain nameless out of the kindness of my alcohol enlarged heart, was run by an older woman whose disinterest and long, dour face reminded me a crabby, English teacher from high-school that everyone was afraid of! She heard Gwen whimper and, speaking to the mother through the baby, told her, "You don't like being out, do you? Tell Mum you prefer to be at home in your environment. You don't care what she wants!" Now, I work in a cafe that could be mistaken for a daycare, so I understand wanting to shout, after a few hours of mothers' group, "Your kids wanna go home! What other option do they have for entertainment than opening sugar packets, crawling on the floor and pushing buttons on the fridge?!!" Aside from the fact I would never say this, our friends are not those type of parents and Jasmine had sacrificed the tastings to be our driver! Interestingly, the wicked wine lady's hostility quickly dissolved when Mark showed an interest in the art of wine making and drinking. She warmed to us (especially the boys..) like a small-towner who'd finally accepted the newcomers, giving us a lesson in agriculture and wine cellaring. I noticed her chunky rings embedded with crystals, including one on her thumb, and could understand her as a self-protective, soft-centred hippy.
When Gwen took a hold of and broke Jasmine's very special set of pearls (thankfully not earlier when she was told to go home!) our new friend even advised Jasmine on how to repair it herself to a baby-proof standard. Best mates for life! And she made a couple of sales on a quiet, rainy day. Everyone wins.
After an amazing lunch at Oakridge, an Englishman who we decided was from the same region as David Attenborough (giving him quite the sales advantage! Ah, so pure) ran us through the wines. Mark and Jasmine's resolve for the day was not to buy dessert wine, of which they have an untouched abundance. Attenborough took this as a challenge, showing Mark his best dessert wine which he promptly bought. Nature's voice strikes again.
Riverstone was up next. I drank in the beautiful view and took the free advice (which was, basically no one knows how long a certain bottle of wine will keep past a few years! So, may as well drink it now, eh?) but bought nothing. I broke my own resolve of the day, however, (which was, 'be a tightarse, as usual') at the final winery, Pimpernel, buying the most delicious albeit expensive bottle, 'Groucho.'
We sealed our seediness with more wine and some pizza that evening, and when Jasmine asked the next day, "Can I make you some bacon and eggs?" we assured her, "You certainly can!" It was on to rehearsal for me that arvy (bam! Hardcore), but enough fun was had on the Saturday that I am ready to work the next million I got coming. Thanks, kids :)
