Tequilapalooza 10, Michael and Rochelle 14

Sunday was Tommy’s tenth annual Tequilapalooza, an afternoon celebration of tequila, available only to those who have achieved a Master’s rating or better in Tommy’s tasting club. Naturally, Rochelle and I were there.

Sunday was Tommy’s tenth annual Tequilapalooza, an afternoon celebration of tequila, available only to those who have achieved a Master’s rating or better in Tommy’s Blue Agave tasting club.

Naturally, Rochelle and I were there. (And we brought friends.)

The way it works, you buy tickets in advance, and then exchange the event tickets for drink tickets. Every person gets seven drink tickets. Which means seven margaritas, or seven shots, all doubles (because that’s the way they pour at Tommy’s).

Yes, we did take a cab from the event.

Tommy’s is internationally recognized as one of the premier places on earth to drink tequila, and has been featured in Time Magazine and CNN, among other places, so it’s with great pride that we drank ourselves stupid with the Tequila Masters.

36 Wines in 3 Hours

On Saturday we drove up to Copia, and attended their “Tour de France” walk-around wine tasting. There were 39 French wines in one room, and the only ones we didn’t taste were the ones they ran out of before we got there. Cost of the event? $15.

On Saturday we drove up to Copia, and attended their “Tour de France” walk-around wine tasting. There were 39 French wines in one room, and the only ones we didn’t taste were the ones they ran out of before we got there. Most wines had multiple bottles, but a few had just one, including a 1er Cru Burgundy that I am terribly sad to have missed.

36 wines in 3 hours works out to 12 tastes per hour…if you’re pacing yourself. I think many people didn’t have the stamina to go the whole distance, the room was a lot less full at the end, but we managed.

You’d think that 36 tastes would have added up to enough to make us drunk, but we were spitting (some of the time), so it was less booze than it sounds like. Of course, I’m pretty sure we were not tasting the final bottles at the same level as the first few. And we did end up going to a liquor store next door and buying $300 in wine…

All in all, a great day. I highly recommend joining Copia, or just visiting. They have a great range of programs that are definitely worth checking out. We paid $15 each to taste 36 quality imported wines, a huge bargain.

Investment Advice

If you had bought $1000 worth of Nortel stock one year ago, it would now be worth $49. If you had bought $1000 worth of Budweiser (the beer, not the stock) one year ago, drank all the beer, then traded in the cans at a redemption center for the nickel deposit, you would have $107.

Rochelle recently found this on another web site:

If you had bought $1000 worth of Nortel stock one year ago, it would now be worth $49. If you had bought $1000 worth of Budweiser (the beer, not the stock) one year ago, drank all the beer, then traded in the cans at a redemption center for the nickel deposit, you would have $107.

The blurb concludes that, considering the current economy, the best possible investment advice is to drink heavily and recycle.

Which is pretty funny. But what I don’t understand is why Rochelle was at the Betty Meets Boris web site…

As if I Need an Excuse to Eat Foie Gras

Just in time for Rochelle’s and my vacation in France (a mere few months away!), news that the low-fat, lots of grains diet may not be good for you. An article in the New York Times asks whether Dr. Atkins isn’t right after all, and we should be eating bacon double-cheeseburgers, without the bun.

Just in time for Rochelle’s and my vacation in France (a mere few months away!), news that the low-fat, lots of grains diet may not be good for you. An article in the New York Times asks whether Dr. Atkins isn’t right after all, and we should be eating bacon double-cheeseburgers, without the bun:

Willett is the de facto spokesman of the longest-running, most comprehensive diet and health studies ever performed, which have already cost upward of $100 million and include data on nearly 300,000 individuals. Those data, says Willett, clearly contradict the low-fat-is-good-health message “and the idea that all fat is bad for you; the exclusive focus on adverse effects of fat may have contributed to the obesity epidemic.”

Not that this was going to stop us from being total pigs in France. My personal goal is to eat foie gras every day I am in France. Every day.

A 50/50 split

Thinking about the difference between the public and private sectors, I realized that my professional life is roughly split between the two. I was in my first job, at UC Berkeley, for more than five years. I recently hit the point where my professional life after UCB is longer than the time I spent there.

Thinking about the difference between the public and private sectors, I realized that my professional life is roughly split between the two. I was in my first job, at UC Berkeley, for more than five years, and I’ve only recently hit the point where my professional life after UCB is longer than the time I spent there.

After graduating college I worked in an IT group on the same campus where I went to school, for five and a half years, in three different roles, progressing as my skills grew. I finally left because I needed more of a challenge, and more importantly, I felt the need to be compensated for my skills and accomplishments, something that can be very hard to achieve in a government job.

After Berkeley I worked at Be for three years, at Cymerc for 14 months, and now I’ve been with Persistence for another 14 months. Add in a couple months consulting and contracting, and I’ve now worked in the private sector about five and a half years also, and in three different roles.

From a professional development standpoint, there can be no doubt the private sector has been better for me. The simplest measurement is compensation. In the 5.5 years I worked at Cal my salary increased about 10%. That’s overall, not per year! In spite of excellent performance reviews, university policies put significant constraints on salary increases.

Since leaving Berkeley my compensation has more than doubled. Indeed, I now make more money per year than my first manager’s manager made when she retired from 30+ years of working from the university. Which in a lot of ways is crazy!

But in other ways is not. When I worked at Cal, I worked 40 hours a week. I was in at 8:30am, and out the door at 5:30pm. I lived only a few blocks from campus, so by 6pm my evening was totally mine. Throw in completely open weekends, and my free time was probably more than double what it is today.

I look back on that in wonder. As in “I wonder what I did with all that spare time?” God knows I’d love to have that kind of free time again, especially now that I could share it with Rochelle.

So I frequently fantasize that at some point I’ll make the journey back to the public sector. Someday, maybe, but not soon. There’s more to the private sector than money, I do love the challenges and variety, the unpredictability (which has a downside in uncertainty), and many other things about my current and past (and future) jobs.

Time will tell.

Memento

Rochelle and I watched Memento off our TiVo last night. Phenomenal movie, truly, along the lines of The Usual Suspects. Highly, highly recommended.

Rochelle and I watched Memento off our TiVo last night. Phenomenal movie, truly, along the lines of The Usual Suspects. Highly, highly recommended.

Another Day, Another Excuse…

How Saturday and Sunday didn’t turn out the way I’d planned, and whose fault it really was.

So, I have this programming assignment for a class, which is due on Wednesday. It’s a fairly sizable piece of work, and while I’ve been making steady progress for the three weeks I’ve had it, I’ve been counting on having a full day during this three-day weekend to finish it off.

Well, Saturday was frittered away horking around on my computer, updating a few dozen pieces of software, and reading some really good science fiction online.

After blowing Saturday, I really needed to be productive Sunday. I started out well enough, but then one orange juice and champaign became two while helping Rochelle get started with her baking. And then Hilda came down, and two became four. Or five. I returned to bed at about noon to take a nap and sleep off the booze.

My immediate instinct after waking up at 4pm (we were heading out to a dinner Rochelle was hosting at 5:00pm) was to look for a(n emotional) stick to beat Rochelle with, because it just had to be her fault (not mine). After several false starts, I finally found something that worked in the expensive smoked salmon that’s currently rotting in the refrigerator.

But then I realized, hey wait, I don’t need to pin this on Rochelle, because it was actually Hilda’s fault.

Timing Is Everything

So, the best hamburger in San Francisco is available at a place not too far from our house. It’s 1/2 pound of very high-quality beef, hand formed, and grilled to perfection by people who know that pushing down with a spatula on the patty while it’s cooking is a crime.

So, the best hamburger in San Francisco is available at a place not too far from our house. It’s 1/2 pound of very high-quality beef, hand formed, and grilled to perfection by people who know that pushing down with a spatula on the patty while it’s cooking is a crime.

They do 200 burgers one day a week, and when they run out, they’re gone. Too bad, try again next week. Their fame has spread wide and far, and they’re usually out well before we get there.

But tonight was different. I got home just before 8:00pm, and spied two burgers on the grill from across the street. I hustled over to place an order…three minutes too late. The last two burgers were those sizzling away, with claims already staked.

But when I got home a smile upon Rochelle’s face greeted me. She had gotten home a half-hour earlier. In other words, 27 minutes before they ran out. I ate my half burger, medium rare, with cheddar and chili and grilled onions, while typing this up.

And no, I am not going to tell you where this place is or what night they have burgers — you’re already eating my burgers, dammit!

Bay To Breakers

Rochelle and I have decided that the Bay To Breakers race in San Francisco is our annual “fat ass” check. If we can finish the race, we haven’t become complete fat asses.

Rochelle and I have decided that the Bay To Breakers race in San Francisco is our annual “fat ass” check. If we can finish the race, we haven’t become complete fat asses.

Yesterday was our first one, and we finished with a fairly respectable (for walkers) 2 hours 16 minutes, which basically means we stayed pretty close to 20 minute miles the entire way.

If you weren’t in the Bay Area over the weekend, you might not know that the weather on Sunday for the race was horrible. It rained on us pretty much the entire race, though never so hard that we decided to quit.

Oh, we both tried to get the other one to cave in. Rochelle offered that to me when we were getting up at 7:00am. “You don’t have to get up, honey, you can just staaaay in bed if you want to.” Knowing she’d have stick for the next 12 months.

Then about half way (well past the infamous Hayes Street Hill), when we were basically soaked to the skin, with nothing but a long, flat, boring walk in front of us, Rochelle wanted to bail. I told her I would be willing to go with her if she wanted to quit. And a little voice told her that would be a bad idea.

When we finished the official route there were thousands of people heading to Footstock (the traditional festival at the end). We decided that, given the rain, they were certifiable. We headed straight for the first Muni train, and were in a hot bath about an hour later.

A little sore today, but not much. I think we passed our first fat ass check.

Naked People

While walking the Bay To Breakers on Sunday, Rochelle and I counted 59 naked people.

While walking the Bay To Breakers on Sunday, Rochelle and I counted 59 naked people. Since we were moving with the race, we only saw people going faster or slower than we were, so this isn’t scientific or comprehensive.

Of these, all but 5 were men, and only two of the women were particularly nice to look at. The cold did unflattering things to the men, but the women had more, uh, favorable results.

That is, if you can call being cold, wet, and naked in the middle of SF “favorable”…

Accidents Will Happen

We got drunk by accident on Saturday. The next day Rochelle said “David wasn’t with us, we can’t blame him.”

“Yes,” I said, “But we can blame Hilda.”

We got drunk by accident on Saturday. The next day Rochelle said “David wasn’t with us, we can’t blame him.”

“Yes,” I said, “But we can blame Hilda.”