Uninspired Strange Trip

Mon 3.29.2004


Feeling uninspired, I search memory chest and find that morning in the dentist chair.

"Wear and tear." Dr. C showed me 3 dreadful pictures of my existing fillings, melted silver with little holes accompanied by saliva on rugged surface.

He had one of those tiny worm-shaped digital cameras and stuck it in my mouth. Seconds later, monsters from the past showed up on the 17" View Sonic LCD screen. Thank goodness I'm an adult. No children should see this. It should be at least PG rating.

So, I made appointment to go back on St. Patty's Day for amendments.

That morning, his assistant explained to me what's going to happen. Figures, right? Then she asked me what kind of music I like?

Ur� (Why?)

She handed me a portable CD player and a pouch full of music CDs, classic, country, pop, hip hop, jazz� you name it. Supposedly the music will block the noise from the drills.

"I was never offered. It's very nice of you." I told her.

Yes, it would be nice to listen to music while your dentist's operating stuff in your mouth, wouldn't it?

On a second thought, I never mind the drilling noises because that's just how things are.

I picked Wynton Marsalis's "Blue".

Orchids were showing on the big LCD screen. It was some kind of nature show that one of the patients made for the practice. I've been seeing Dr. C a few times to have watched most of the nature shows.

Dr. C numbed part of the mouth and hit the lever.

I was flat like a pancake. Headlight instead of flower show faced me, so I closed my eyes, sinking into Wynton's horn.

"Blue" turned out to be soft and mellow. I confess that was the first time I listened to that CD.

Interestingly enough, some of the high notes echoed the jams form the drills.

"Beeeee�"

"Bop!"

Sound waves of horns floated through my brain while my jaw was begging for relief.

"Dee dee doo doo dee doo�" my whole head was shaking by some kind of instrument Dr. C used. Or, was it Wynton's magic?

"OK!" the assistant tapped me on the arm.

When I opened my eyes, flower show again. It was desert flower theme this time.

Dr. C used the worm camera to take another set of photos and his assistant took away the headphone & CD player from me. No more leaky silvery. He put up before-after pictures for me and blahed for a minute. Honestly, I couldn't remember a thing he said. I couldn't move the left side of my lips.

"Bop bee doo bee doo�" as I walked out the door that sound still in my head.

Flames Before My Eyes

Furry or indignation, after the Taiwanese presidential election, has just begun. Doubts, accusations, and conspiracy theories creep up pipes of cyber communication.

I witness the flames ignited.

If only it could be as easy as spilling guts in the battlefields, if only it could be as simple as being sent to the guillotine, to manifest the love for motherland.

No, you are not right, nor just. You are of your choice, obliged to the laws of democracy.

O, have you forgotten the path thus far?

Why must you kindle the blaze of hearts?

O, do you not feel the beast ravaging the minds?

Ah, the smokes blind me.

In dismal spirit, not for rain, I chant:

We are a generation (would be) forgotten in history but a paragraph of despair;

We are a generation whose hopes turn into a word of scare;

We are a generation strives to prosper only to be defeated by myopia;

Such a generation, not alone, lives once more with curious flair.

What Makes You...

What makes you a gem, a jewel, or a pebble?

In the sea of blogs, waves of you rise, fall, or turn into foams; some of you reborn, recollect, and rejoice. Perhaps, some of you fade like memories.

Lake Skinner

Sun 3.14.2004


After Wilson Creek, we drove to Lake Skinner for a hike. It is the home of Temecula Valley Balloon and Wine Festival, taking place ever summer since 1983.

Snow-capped mountains off distance accompanied us parts of the country roads. I would guess those were St. Bernardino Mountains. Trails in the recreation area were still closed due to forest fires last October, we were told. So, the alternative would be paths along the lakeshore.

It's only mid-March. The inland sun had already possessed scorching power. The wines we tasted not too long ago also bothered me. Good heavens, I had 3 or 4 sips. (It's a very bad idea mixing up alcohols and outdoor adventures.)

The hills were green and the water was calm. The simplest thing I'd always enjoy failed to impressive me at the moment. We didn't even cover 100 yards around the lake.

Families were having picnics and some were fishing in the lake.

"Maybe we can rent a boat." John suggested.

Motorboats and pontoons were the choices.

"Do you have canoes? Rowboats?" John asked a rental office clerk.

"You can row with this." The clerk pointed at a metal "vessel" without a motor.

John looked blank.

"We'll give you something to row with." The clerk continued.

Without saying much anything else, we turned around. Before we left, the photos on the rental office walls caught our attention. Guys with huge stripers, bass, and other fishes proudly presented their conquests in Polaroid's. Some of them were from Long Beach and Riverside. Hmm, I didn't know people had come as far as Long Beach.

Sometimes, John is such a romanticist. He would insist on having a wood craft and row our ways into the water, undisturbed by the noises of motors. Well, we've got arms to paddle. Why not join the nature with natural (physical) strength? We weren't in a hurry, were we?

In view of level lakeshore paths boring and no boats to row, we followed the roads we came, back to Old Town Temecula. In the historic district filled with Old West nostalgia, we found ourselves snacking on Corporate America hot dogs and root beer floats. There's nothing charming about it.

Wilson Creek Winery & Vineyards

Sun 3.14.2004


No, it's not in Napa, nor Willamette Valley.

Down south in where-the-heck-is-it Temecula Valley, roughly 90 miles south of LA, or 60 miles north of San Diego.

It's not known nationally and you definitely will not find it in The Wine Bible. Perhaps only Southern Californians come here for a taste of what we can make out here or for a weekend getaway.

In such a phase of our lives, my husband and I have just begun the attempts to understand the complex world of wines. With very basic knowledge and limited pocket power, we set out for our first Wine Country tour in California. (Well, we used to live in Oregon and had visited a couple of wineries in the Willamette Valley.) Where could be more perfect than Temecula?

As we drove through Rancho California Road, the thoroughfare of Temecula Wine Country, we saw vineyards, wineries and their restaurants, bed-and-breakfast, or spas. It's of such a small scale that some of the worldly wine lovers might snicker.

Frankly, we didn't know which winery to start. So, we simply let fate choose it course. Minutes later we pulled in Wilson Creek's parking lot.

Two baseball-cap-wearing college-looking kids were welcomed by a beautiful garden, gazebo, performance stage, and bustling patrons. We were also pleasantly surprised to learn that we stopped in the home of several California State Fair Gold Medallists. (Also, one of the most popular destinations in the valley.)

We "wrestled" through the gift shop and tasting circles and found our way to the "Barrel Tasting Room" in the back. It's a temperature-controlled area (60 F) where barrels of 2002 Cabernet Sauvignon stored on site. I wasn't sure if this was a real cellar or merely set up for the tasting event. Nevertheless, it delivered the ambience of a cellar and we certainly felt more comfortable with smaller crowd.

There were 2 bars: one occupied by a group of females; another, several couples. The wine steward at the "girls bar" casually introduced the flavors and characteristics of the varietals he served. I thought it was wonderful to learn about wines in such relaxing fashion. At the "couples bar," we were trying to decide what to taste.

"So, you are the man behind the Wilson Creek Winery," said the lady of the couple standing next to us.

I looked at nametag of the person she spoke to. It was Mr. Gerry Wilson, the MAN behind Wilson Creek. How about that! Mr. Wilson himself showed up and ready to present his wines.

For the next half hour we listened to this gray-haired man briefly on appellations, glassware, regulations, and his labor. The couple next to us got a few questions answered and we, the two youngsters, had the honor (mostly luck) to receive a memorable lecture from a wine producer.

On our way home, I took a final glance of the vineyards and wondered how these producers made them happened here. It seems to me that wines are labors of love. It begins with the love for them, then a dream of producing them, then realizing the dream, then sharing the love. For thousands of years, our palates satisfied and our lives enriched by these amazing beverages. Behind each wine, there are countless miracle workers to make it happen.

I don't know if any wine producer ever made Fortune's annual billionaire list, or became a millionaire for that matter. In Wilson family's case, we learnt from an article that they were in debt at some point and had to sell family land in Iowa. From their web site, I also found out Wilson Creek Winery & Vineyards started out by taking chances. A retired couple and the whole family ventured into an unknown territory of building a winery from scratch.

Were we there to judge their efforts? Hardly. We were touched by the sense of fulfillment the Wilson family had created.

Thank you Gerry and family!


[Note]

About Wilson Creek Winery & Vineyards, please see:
http://www.wilsoncreekwinery.com/Page.bok?template=about

The Chicken

As soon as I got off Bus #11 at SDSU, I saw a hen strolling on campus by the Stop for #13.

Well, this corner of SDSU, you'll never see being included in the on-line virtual tour or school brochures. Can you guess why?

This is how I spend my mornings, standing in the ruins of some college kids' stupidity, irresponsibility, and laziness. Major hygiene issues here. How I loathe the bus stops here!

The appearance of a chicken seemed to brighten my moments in such undesirable surroundings. What a curiosity! How did it get here?

Other public transportation patrons also widened their eyes, watching this timid creature. One even found scraps from a McDonald's near by to feed her. He said: "This is a tamed chicken, not a wild one. She must escape from a lab somewhere."

She was a beautiful hen with shining coats of black feathers, some reflecting hints of teal.

We don't see chickens around much any more, not in the city.

The man who fed the chicken then said: "She might get hit by a car�"

I believe all of us had similar predictions.

Pretty little strayed chicken, wondering around college campus, formed an odd glimpse of city life. Who will rescue her?


Note: SDSU = San Diego State University

Not So Perfect After All

Sun, 2.29.2004


In the evening, John called home talking with his parents for a while.

We learnt that Cousin Leo was to be shipped to Iraq in August for 8-month service (or longer). He will be sent to San Diego camp for 2-month training prior to going abroad.

Few years ago Leo joined Marine Reserve, which surprised the whole family. He never expressed any interest in military career in the past, at least we never heard of it. He dropped out of college after a year and started working for an international freight carrier. For a young man, barely 20 years of age, it's hard to figure out what to do with life. I believe that uncle Phil, his father, encouraged him to join the reserve.

Uncle Phil served in the Navy right after high school, sailing over Asia and other parts of the world. To country Iowans, it was fantastic. It's easy money to collect for a week of service every month -- pardon my frankness -- with a good faith that Uncle Sam won't call on reserves.

How wrong was uncle Phil?

His son is about to be sent to the troubled Middle East.

For a father, that was probably the best idea he could think of since Leo's not into school or particular professions. Leo used to play football in high school and, no doubt, the stoutest male in his family. Perhaps that's why he chose the Marines?

We certainly weren't thrilled to know that Leo's coming to San Diego. No, that's not the reason we had in mind for meeting him. When the US-Iraq conflict broke off last year, our whole family worried that Leo would be sent for war. But his time didn't come then.

Uncle Phil was so upset that he planned to move out of Iowa, where he lived most of his life, to be close to his daughter in Indiana.

After high school, Cousin Julie left Iowa, and had lived in Florida then Indiana. She only sees Uncle Phil once a year. It's Leo that Phil is close to. We know that Uncle Phil will be lonely but John's parents visit him a few times a year. His step-son lives close by and is fairly close to him. (Quite rare for family relationships these days.) We don't understand why Uncle Phil wanted to move away? Was he thinking that Leo wouldn't return?

Oh, the unthinkable!