I also drink beer.
These two are only related inasmuch as everything that I do is related to living.
Wait. That's not how this entry was meant to start. I just got distracted by the sign approximately six inches to my right that proclaims that there will be a keg party tonight.
So, yeah, Joanna's going to a keg party. The thing about Blenheim is, if you're going to have fun of a weekend or an evening, it's going to include either TV or alcohol. Quite probably both. Blenheim is not a happenin' place.
BUT! Now I have definitely said more than needs to be said on that topic.
The guy that (owns? runs?) the vineyard where I'm currently contracting is often abrasive. Essentially, he comes through and tells us that we're doing everything wrong, even though we're following the directions he gave us in the beginning. So we get irritated and upset and hate work. But then he does nice things, and we feel bad for being upset. Two days ago he gave us muffins. Today, oh sweet today, he gave us socks. Handmade woollen pretty pretty thickwarm socks. How's a girl supposed to build up a nice healthy boss-resentment when he's giving out wonderfulsocks?! The world has gone mad.
Tomorrow is Independance Day. I've got an American with whom to celebrate, as well as a Canadian who claims to feel a continent-bond, several English folk who say they want to celebrate getting rid of those dadgum colonies, and a bunch of people who just like any excuse to drink. Life is funny in this here hostel. But at least I know I'm not alone. This is a welcome contrast to my Thanksgiving Day, during which I roamed the streets of Wellington alone, on a futile search for a turkey sandwich.
Now, I think there is a grilled cheese sandwich in my future.