Nothing funny about feldspar

In the summertime, Plagioclase and I trade in our kick-in-the-head reds for European rosés (no white zinfandel please). European rosés tend to be much drier than their American counterparts, though nice dry American rosés can be had, they are not as easy to find as decent Loire-valley rosés or tonight’s taste: a Spanish rosé.

We drank a 2005 Marqués de Cáceres “Dry Rose Wine” from the Rioja region. There is a little holographic label stating that it is D.O.C. ($6.99)

Here’s the marketing text on the label:

Marqués de Cáceres dry rosé is an exceptional Rioja, full of fruit, yet still light on the palate. The finest grape varieties from the best Rioja vinyards give it a perfect balance…. It is especially recommended with hors d’oeuvres, paella, seafood and chicken.

Unlike many rosés (dry or not-dry), this one didn’t feel like it was full of granulated sugar, nor did it feel like I was drinking pickle juice. It did have a nice balance for tart and sweet (it is really hard to find a really dry rosé in my normal price range), but I didn’t think of it as especially fruity, nor particularly complex. I liked it quite a bit, though. Plagioclase says, “It’s a perfectly good thirst-quencher wine.” I agree.

I won’t shy away from getting this one again.

Plagioclase: B
Orthoclase: B

PithHelmet has been updated to work with the latest Safari. I was starting to avoid surfing!

I like using Safari, though many times it is slower than I’d like. I’ve tried Camino, and while it’s pretty, and fast, and has a built-in ad-blocker, it doesn’t have good Autofill, it does funny things to textareas, and it doesn’t use the built-in spell checker.

Next time I’ll wait for PithHelmet before I update

Plagioclase’s been sick lately (allergies, probably), so his normal sunny disposition is clouded by *urgh*s and *hem*s. Unfortunately for both of us, that means there’s a whole lotta grumpin’ goin’ on here at the Rock Pile. I am unhappier when he is unhappy, and when I’m unhappy I’m grumpy. Snippy, cynical, argumentative… really unpleasant.

I wish I could get him to take something that would make him feel better — then I might also become more pleasant.

At least more livable.

Before you say “Orthoclase, you need to clean your lens! Look at all those lines!” look closer. About 11 o’clock on the large outer leaves of the rosette. There, see it? The source of the lines — a little brown spider.

The funny thing is, I didn’t see it when I was taking the pic — I was just enamored of the sun shining on the web.

I’ve been skimming David Allen’s Getting Things Done lately, and I must say that skimming is all I can stand.

The premise is that one needs to write everything down in such a way that it’s fun to do, and put whatever it is on your calendar if you can’t do it right now. And then commit to using your calendar and lists so you can trust that everything you need to do is on them, even so far as arranging your schedule with your paramour so you don’t have to think of her (or him) when you’re not supposed to be thinking of him (or her).¹

Like many airport books which promise that you’ll be better organized, more effective, better-looking and more virile, this one has bulleted lists, inspirational side bar quotes, repeated-for-emphasis diagrams, and an assumption that the reader has staff.² I wouldn’t be surprised to see an offshoot for soccer moms (or whatever the PC version is these days) that assumes said SM has a nanny or something to do stuff, too. If I see one more statement about “hand it off to your staff” I’ll probably just throw it into the recycle pile.

What is it about self-help books that make such assumptions? Do us non-managers buy them because we think we’re gonna be management someday? Is it like women buying fashion mags in the hope that one day they’ll be able to afford to buy those $1000 shoes, and when they do they’ll look just as fabulous in them as the supermodel? I suppose wish fulfillment is a large part of it; that and the hope that this time will really be the one easy way to get organized. It’s kind of like dieting — nearly any method will work, the difficulty is in staying committed to the effort.

I’m not quite sure why Plagioclase bought the book. Could it have something to do with his inbox really being a box?³

1. Plagioclase brought the book home, and managed to embrace one of it’s tenets: put everything into an “in-box.” He hasn’t graduated to the part that says “commit to sorting through it on a regular and frequent basis” but that is neither here nor there; perhaps he hasn’t read that far yet.↩
2. Ok, I am the first to admit that I am not part of Allen’s target demographic, and I also am aware that the book is old (©2001). Allen’s likely intention is to sell more consulting time — non-managers usually don’t have the corporate clout to hire him.↩
3. Really — it’s one of those 10-ream paper boxes that I grew up calling a “Xerox box.”↩