Posts Tagged ‘Rob’
Hey, my lovely NYC readers.
Is anyone interested in working at the winery with Rob tomorrow from 9:00 a.m. until 2:00p.m.? It’s $10 per hour, which is isn’t much, but it’s a fascinating look at wine-making. They’re getting in a shipment of grapes tomorrow and need a couple of people to help sorting fruit. I’ll probably be one of them.
If you’re interested, drop me a line and I can hook you up.
Edited to add: You guys rock. We’ve got the spots covered now, but if you might like to have a winery day later in the month, let me know.
Last night I went to bed about twenty minutes after Rob. Normally, he would still be awake, but last night I could tell by the sound of his breathing that he was deeply asleep. The winery tires him out during harvest because it’s all hard physical labor and extremely long hours.
He was sprawled across the bed, arms outstretched. I nudged him to get him to move. No response. I picked his arm up and moved it without the rhythm of his breathing changing. In fact, if it weren’t for the fact that he was snoring lightly I might have been worried. Poor guy.
He had today off, so we were able to spend some time together while both awake. Given how harvest generally runs, this is a novel experience.
We’ve definitely started into Harvest season.Â It’s funny, the last harvest Rob worked was 2005 but the rhythm of the winery was so much a part of our lives up until that point that it feels completely natural for him to come home smelling of grapes.Â He only worked a partial day today, but I didn’t see him at all on FridayÂ — I mean, technically, I saw him sleeping but he was gone before I woke up in the morning.
The strangest thing about this harvest, for me, is that he comes home every night.Â When he was at Bethel Heights, because the drive was an hour and a half, he’d stay at the winery for the whole harvest.Â I always drove down to visit him.Â I’m glad that this place is closer at least, even if they are having some rather interesting challenges from working in tight spaces.
And lo! I have returned to NYC and yet I have not slain any of the tourists who insist on stopping at the top of the stairs.
The cats are very needy because Rob has been working long hours at the winery.Â He got home around 8:30 tonight and smelled like grape juice.Â The grapes arrived today, so harvest has begun.Â He says that it was very strange to be sorting fruit and see cabs going by.
I’m not sure how I feel about being a wine widow in NYC.Â I mean, we’ve got this routine down around harvest that involves spending time in a winery surrounded by vineyards.Â That can at least pretend to be romantic, if you ignore all the plumbing involved in making wine.Â But the sound of taxis honking?Â Not so much.
I haven’t made a lot of noise about this but one of the things that’s been hard for us over the past year has been the bizarrely difficult time Rob has had finding a job. Some of this is circumstantial; we arrived right before the writers’ strike started and Rob works in film and television.
He’s had some gigs through the year, but nothing that lasted more than a couple of weeks. The perils of freelancing, you know?
Last week, he started working as the assistant winemaker at City Winery. Remember that film and television thing? Yeah, well, he has a completely separate career as a wine maker. We both find it ironic that he left his wine-making job in Oregon to come to New York and will be doing the same job here as there.
We are much relieved. In particular because I’ve had to take every job that came my way. This means I can turn things down occasionally.
It also means that I lose my house-husband and, after a year, I’m a little spoiled.
Here’s a bit of wine-maker jargon for you. Our friend Wayne is in town for a couple of days. He and Rob have been talking wine and wine making like they’ve both been starving. I’ve been listening and mostly staying out of their way. But this, this I had to share.
We were at dinner and they were talking about this new winery that Rob has started working at ((Did I forget to mention that?)) and he said something about how all the grapes were going to be delivered in FYBs.
I said, “What’s an FYB?”
Wayne looked at the table next to us and then said, “Well. F stands for something that’s not polite to say at a restaurant.”
I stare at him for a second before I get it. “Really?”
“Yes. With an -ing. Then the other two are Yellow Bin.”
Rob confirmed. Apparently the F***ing Yellow Bins are so universally reviled for being hard to work with that this is an industry standard term. Everyone calls them FYBs.
I fell asleep before the plane even left the ground and slept most of the way home. I woke up about half an hour before we landed and amused myself by reading Zoe’s Tale. Yes, I know that makes some of you jealous and it should, because it’s a darn good book.
Since my flight had been delayed by about two hours, it was about 1:30 when we got in. I opted for a cab instead of taking the bus. I picked up a lot of books while I was gone ((Mainspring, Ragamuffin, The Opposite of Life, Children of Amarid, Heaven’s Bones, plus a bunch of astronomy books)) and a plaque.
Despite having food poisoning, Rob had managed to get flowers for me and had them waiting on the dining room table with a note. Made me all weepy.
Today, I had planned on working on the springer spaniel, but didn’t wake up until ten o’clock and then took a nap later today. I had trouble sleeping the entire time I was at altitude and I think my body really grooved on having enough oxygen at night.
Anyway, I’ll be diving in to building the dog this week and will hopefully have some process posts for you.
I spent the train trip alternating between writing a new short story and reading Ekaterina Sedia’s Alchemy of Stone. I say “alternated” by which I mean that I took a break from writing the story, read half of Alchemy and then we were in NYC.
The apartment is empty without Rob, again, but he left me a note ((No. That’s private)) and dinner in the fridge.Â I caught up on SFWA stuff over cold sesame noodles and now I’m headed off to bed.
- @twitter help #
- On the train and will try to sleep. Supposed to get into the Boston station around eightish. #
- Next time, I’ll plunk down the extra $30 to go to business class so I don’t have to hear cranky baby. #
- Also, why is the train so freaking cold? #
- Just went to cafe car. There are, no lie, 9 kids on this car. It explains why I kept hearing cranky kid. I’m in the nursery. #
- In Boston. Now to explore local transit. Wish me luck. #
- Well, I’m at the bus mall and so far everything seems to be working. There are even other people waiting, which gives me hope. #
- One stop too far on the bus, but that’s not so bad. #
- Doing a reading in VT until two. Come after Jeff Ford. #
I’m still up and, thinking about how often and easily I stay up this late, I’ve decided to take the 3:15 a.m. train to Readercon on Friday.Â I miss Rob (just in case you couldn’t tell from the schmaltzy posts this week) and would rather be tired during the con than miss seeing him by an hour.
This plan may change if he calls me in the morning and says that they are extending the shoot.Â Which, given the French Farce of our travel plans, seems likely.