The Mysterious Easter Egg Hunt

Hi, there,

Oh, I remember dying Easter eggs when I was little and creating, in my humble opinion at that age, an amazing assemble of artistic imagery, especially in something edible. When my brother and I went upstairs at night to our bunk beds, our Mother would hide them throughout the house in various sneaky locations. Unbeknownst to her, our dog, a big Belgian Shepard, was observing her place these delicious, colorful eggs in easy to reach, accessible spots. The dog marked the locations and remembered.

Lo and behold, when morning arrived and the hunt commenced, my brother and I noticed how difficult it was in finding the eggs that she hid. She was getting much better at hiding them, we thought. We only found a couple in some very high hiding spots, but the egg carton, that we placed the found eggs back in, was relatively empty.

"Mom," we asked. "Where'd you hide the eggs?"

She joined us in the search, but was extremely baffled as to where the easy-to-find eggs could've gone. I think she even went as far as blaming my father to some kind of treachery. He just responded with an incredulous, tired look on his face and went back to his morning coffee and the newspaper.

The dog, who was usually very chipper and excited to see us in the morning, layed quietly sleeping in the corner. Egg shells were dispersed around the dog's over-stuffed body.

The hunt was over. At least we had milk chocolate bunnies to feast on.

What will you have this Easter?

Maybe we can help.

Come in and let us hand you a bottle that will make you smile.

www.swirl-wine.net

Something wicked this way comes...

Are you ready?

It is coming.

Can you smell it in the air? The cold kiss upon your cheek. Your breath visible in the air.

The storm approaches.

Two feet. Maybe more.

The havoc that Mother Nature stirs in her old cauldron of winter mix. And Baltimore trembles.

We're battening down the hatches, preparing for the worst. We have beer. We have liquor. And, oh yes, we have plenty of wine.

How about you?

Are you set? If not, you better get down here. It could be a long weekend and you don't want to go stir crazy without the essential elixirs. It could be another case of Jack Nicholson in The Shining if you're not careful.

Austin and I are stockpiling just to make sure. Can never have enough.

Definitely taking home with us a silky-smooth Pinot Noir, that we picked up earlier in the week, that is the f-bomb. The Cinnabar Santa Cruz '06 P.N., which is showing like crazy right now, and we only got so much of this allocated wine, so please don't hesitate to grab one while you can. Absolutely delicious.

See you soon and be safe out there.

www.swirl-wine.net

I remember...

(A side Australian travel note):

14 yrs ago I woke up in a sub-standard hostel in Byron Bay, Australia. When I say sub-standard, let me better clarify, that I shared a small room with 4 other random guys, which had two bunk beds with no sheets and no pillows provided (we used our towel as a sheet and a rolled up pair of jeans as a pillow), one singular hanging light in the middle of the room, and there was this smell that was quite undefinable, but not too pleasant. In other words, a nice place for strangers to crash after a heavy night of drinking.

The lodging wasn't too important. We were in Byron Bay. The most Eastern point of the Australian coast. Beautiful beaches. Gorgeous scenery. A place that you permanently walk around with a smile on your face. And, most importantly for me, there was great diving to be found. A little off from the coast was Julian Rocks, a marine preserve and a convergence of two currents, which meant there was a lot of life sputtering about down there. Of course, where there's a lot of fish, there's usually a few sharks patrolling the waters as well. Good diving.

I spent my mornings under the water, waking early each day in the emerging light of dawn, as my roommates continually snored away the previous nights transgression. The afternoons were free to explore the surrounding area on bike or hiking, relaxing on the beach, or discovering new places to drink.

We would always gather back at the room roughly around the same time, to shower and get ready for dinner and whatever else layed in store for us down the line. Sometimes a roommate would leave, being replaced the next day with a fresh face. English, German, Swiss, a Canadian. Always a young, eclectic bunch. Always curious about my early morning departures, and very eager to hear about my diving experiences during dinner and what I saw that particular morning under the sea (especially if I had any run-ins with sharks).

There was a steak house not to far from the hostel. Really good meat, lots of sides, not too expensive (it must've been a pre-cursor or a model to Outback). And there was loads of Shiraz to drink. This was the time when the hype of Australian Shiraz was just beginning to build over in the States (before the Yellow Tail invasion). Big, ripe, full-bodied red with sumptuous flavors and velvety textures, oh yes. Perfect with a good steak. And perfect to share with some new friends.

One particular night over drinks, we were so immersed in our conversation about everyone's different backgrounds and cultures, and their surprising similarities and beguiling differences, that we didn't notice it was closing time. We were walking out when one of my roommates told us that he would meet us back at the hostel, and walked back in. I thought nothing of it until I saw him strolling back to our place with a couple bottles of Shiraz in his hands, both already opened and ready to be poured into some paper cups he had bought.

"I didn't want the night to be over just yet," he said.

We poured the Shiraz into the cups and someone put on a cd of Creedence Clearwater Revival, and we sat outside and drank and talked about everything and nothing. Mostly we laughed. So everytime I hear a song from Creedence, or have a nice glass of Shiraz, I think back to the time I had in Australia, and one of the most memorable evenings of my life.