Binkomonster!

Joe King Carrasco was never more spot on...

When he uttered the lyrics to probably his best known hit of the 80's, 'It's a Party Weekend'. We have to believe there was some Tequila stoking the creative muse on that particular ditty, but we digress. It has been the 'Party Weekend', but it has also been the 'run around at a million miles an hour weekend' too. The CTO is back from a stint out on the other Coast visiting remote offices. Willing staff members were already in the holiday spirit as you can see by the evidence here.

That would be Rusty from the Buffalo office. All dressed up and ready for a staff meeting out in the garden with some (hiccup) champage.  The party continues officially tomorrow evening at the Binkomonster Castle. Our entire staff will be in costume (bat wings and all) with food, a witches cauldron, and good company. Post party, the next two weeks see continued renovation here at the home office. The old living room furniture is on the way out, to be replaced by B&B Italia's Maxalto series, and a new chaise lounge/couch combination from Gamma. Oh and then there is the long lusted after Cellula chandelier. The electrician comes next Wednesday to place this glorious piece of wonder. After which we will drink and celebrate with fervor. While getting the painter in to redo the plaster and paint on the ceiling. One day, it will all be finished, and the only thing left will be to sit and twiddle our collective thumbs and paws.  In the meantime, Thanksgiving looms on the horizon along with all the preparation needed. Thankfully tonight we have the chance to just sit/relax and quaff a cocktail (or two). There are more episodes of Jeeves and Wooster on the way to the castle this very minute. So we'll need a Martini (how else does one watch these things), to of course, get into the spirit. And prepare for tomorrow.

We know how she feels.

Yesterday saw another event of the urinary kind here at Binkomonster. One of our four staff members stealthily left a fluid deposit down in the entryway. An incident that not only assured an olfactory assault, but also damaged some artwork. Note to selves: first floor no longer suitable repository for the Picasso, Rembrandt and Shag. Based on some CCSI (Cat Crime Scene Investigation), we deduced our primary suspect to be the Woobster. In an effort to stem further retaliation, she got to take an evening stay in the bathroom/hospital ward. Further note to selves: Wooby hates confinement. Of any kind. Her alternating pitiful and angry warbling was enough to both disturb sleep, and engender sadness at her current state of feeling.  Which is further compounded by our own misery from, oddly enough, a closed door. Though ours is of the opportunity flavor. Without going into the gory granular, suffice it to say that the situation can be summed up as follows: 1. Opportunity presented  2. Door is open a little bit/peeking through/see a glimpse 3. Things get quiet 3. Opportunity is beginning to look like a 'carrot being strung along on a wire' 4. Door starts to close, and finally 5. Door slams and lock turns. No hope of entry.  Now the wiser will ask whether we pushed or scratched on the door in an effort to signal desire to explore that path? And the answer is no. There was no clawing, and there was no leaning or pushing. There was just a series of hard clear knocks that hopefully made apparent the desire. It appears that perhaps using the doorbell might have been a better idea. But nonetheless, there is deep disappointment, and the beginning of the deep dip on the roller-coaster. To put it in more of a succint fashion: this sucks. We've always railed and ranted at the current 'working for the man' situation, but this puts things in a new light. The feeling of 'not belonging' takes a strong surge. The feeling of being 'pigeon-holed' is layered on top of that. Add in a sprinkle of conspiracy theory (are they on the path to drive us out?), general self-doubt (not doing x,y,z should be doing a,b,c,d, e and f while sleeping and faster) and you have the perfect recipe for a blue fortnight. Wishing that our self-imposed holiday and visit to the East Coast offices were this week instead of next. For now, it is off to the gym. Not that it will change things or help, but perhaps moving the muscles around will bring some kind of relief.

Harvest 2007. The Wino Gets Her Hands all Jammy.

It's Harvest time. Which for many has different meanings. For the resident wino here at Binkomonster, it means time to roll the sleeves up and get busy with our forthcoming Chardonnay production. As of today, our Sleepy Hollow yield is still on the vine with an estimated 'pick date between October 8th and October 12th. So we wait (and hold off on any travel plans) in anticipation. We got to spend a lovely few hours over at Crushpad this evening participating in CrushCAMP. What is it you ask? Basically a quick crash-course/immersion into all the things that need to be done in order to get a wine into barrel: sorting/destemming, and punch-downs (very cathartic). Now that we've gotten all of the bugs off of our jammy and grape stained shirt (which went into the laundry), taken that long and thorough shower, we're sitting and enjoying the fruits of such labor (namely, the vino). Dinner has been prepared and is in a holding pattern awaiting the arrival of the CEO. And the week still holds more events. We go back to spend some more time doing harvest activities perhaps on Friday. And Saturday sees a monumental event here at the Binkomonster  stronghold. Mr. Stephen Beal (one of the world's 7 'Masters of Scotch') will be here to host a tasting event taking us on a tour of Scotland via our collective palate. Haggis will be served, along with other traditional fare (tatties.. also known as mashed potatoes, and shortbread) to better complement our journey. There are rumours that the CEO will be donning a kilt. And we expect a large turnout, with high spirits among all. Sunday may just see at least one of the staff here nursing a mild hangover while we slide into the workweek. Its been a good two weeks barring some minor hiccups. The weekend past saw us going over to Bonhams&Butterfields for our yearly wine auction. And we hit the jackpot! For a not insignificant amount of shekels, we are now the proud owners of: 1 Petrus 1972, 1 Petrus 1985, 1 Petrus 1992 (for putting away of course), and a case of awesome Italian Chianti (1993). Between this and our magnums of Dead Arm Shiraz and Schramsburg, well, let's just say it is going to be one mighty awesome-fantastic-decadent-vinorrific Thanksgiving this year. The stove is ready for a tasty bird, we're in the process of assembling recipies, and of course we'll be doing our pumpkin/bourbon ice cream again. There's this tiny thing in between of course called 'working for the man', but rather than lodge our usual complaints this week, we'll take the opportunity to recognize that the wages do provide a rather nice set of comforts.  So we'll give our thanks for that. And for Harvest 2007, it's turning out to be awesome already.