Yesterday I mentioned that you’ll have an opportunity to join me for a wine and hiking tour, complete with a gourmet picnic lunch and a wine tasting, for 51% off my usual price, via the zozi.com website.

That deal is now live on zozi!

~winehiker

“Hey, so how do I turn this mike on, anyway?”

“There’s a sliding switch on the handle.”

“Truer words are rarely spoken, boys. But I’ve tried it six times already.”

[Sounds of scurrying just off the podium while a technician (wearing overalls, for gawdsakes!!*) roots around in the sound equipment, checking connections. Anxious moments pass.]

“Um, we think we found the problem — the mike’s cord wasn’t plugged into the unit. How’s it wo…piiiiiiingggggggggggg……..SKREEEE-ee-EEEKKKKKkkkkk!!!!!…….rking now?”

“Much better, thank you. Uh, hello everyone. My name is Russ, and I’m a latent blogaholic. It’s been six months since my last post.”

——————

They say that when you’re driving at maximum legal speed on the freeway and a major seismic shock occurs underneath you, it can feel as if all four of your tires have suddenly gone flat; your sudden fight to control your vehicle alarmingly cancels all other thought processes. In an instant, you begin to realize something crucial has cracked within the confines of your seemingly-serene continuum; everything you had just been considering for how you’d spend your next moments, days and years has rudely crashingly distilled into one signifying act: maniacally defending your life against disaster. Naturally, your first instinct is to pull your foot off the gas pedal and quickly press it onto the brake; your belief in all things possible having abruptly downshifted into defensive mode, if not an outright Suspend Mode.

From the San Jose Mercury News: ‘Frightening’ job losses. Source: planspark via Flickr

Or, in my case, given the very personal and all-too-real effects of our current economic seismicity, you pull in your horns and you endeavor to focus on the basics — to attempt to make things right again with your life and your career.

Many of my readers know that I have long supported myself as a Silicon Valley technical writer; I continue to market myself with these skills due to an awareness that this economy has not particularly supported my dream career of hosting luxury/adventure endeavors, i.e., wine and hiking tours.

That’s the straight dead nuts and there’s no getting around it; tourism in California has softened considerably these last two-plus years.

Indeed, the unemployment rate in California has been inordinately high since 2007. It’s especially high in Silicon Valley. And yet despite my reasonably-competitive skillset plus my efforts to continue my own employment here, I can’t particularly explain why my continuum has been seemingly discontinued. Unless, that is, I care to consider that perhaps I’m competing against more job candidates than I ever have previously — and for less pay than I have previously earned — or that, heaven forbid, I’m simply viewed as “older”.  In which case, it’s easy to assume a common perception by those holding the purse strings that I, as a a seasoned technical communicator, probably want more money to do the same jobs that likely are instead being awarded to fresh-faced college graduates — because it’s been misconscrewed that the hiring company will get more bang for their bank.

Folks, I’m here to tell ya: more money is not the issue. At least not for me — I’m much more the quality guy. Mr. or Ms. Hiring Manager, your goal is to raise your productivity as efficiently and effectively as possible toward the bottom line; hopefully you’re also a good facilitator who takes an active role in forging your employees’ successes. For me, Mr. Would-Love-To-Be-Hired, the foremost goal is to synergize my skills, aptitude and attitude toward achieving your goal.

Not that I wouldn’t also welcome the return of a little stability in my life.

But I also consider myself human, very much a thread that serves to stitch the company fabric together, and I believe strongly in gaining the satisfaction of a job well done for myself, for you, and the team I expect to be an integral part of.

So even if I were to accept a salary that’s not commensurate with my previous one, I’d do it gratefully because — and this is a sure bet — I’ll simply sleep better at night.

Looking west over the Lost Valley of Silicon. Source: Wikimedia Commons

Yep, I occasionally get an interview. No, aside from the occasional short-term contract stint or freelance job, I haven’t received a permanent job offer after 30 months of trying. And while the reasons why I haven’t been hired may be nebulous, it’s painfully clear that I have been marking ever-lowering depths, depths that I never expected I would, could or should encounter in my life. There’s a stiletto-sharp and very eye-widening edge to engaging in a never-ending daily job search, after these many months, while also realizing that I am someone who has sunk to finding himself again extending his unemployment, even applying for food stamps in an effort to survive.

You can bet I’m not tasting much wine these days.

Alright, so I am not sharing this post because I desire sympathy. I’m not looking for handouts either, nor am I burned out on blogging, as some might feel. As far as blogging goes, I realize that my own desire to not share bad news has overridden any other concern; after all, I have my pride to consider. (Pride: such an obstreperously silly virtue.)  No, I simply haven’t wanted others to concern themselves unnecessarily about my welfare. So, since I haven’t had much of anything good to say, I simply haven’t blogged. Sure, I could still have written a few posts to work off some steam. But I’ve long known that if I don’t have anything nice to say, I probably shouldn’t say anything at all. (After all these years, I still hear my dad’s echo.)

Then again, that silly ol’ pride I just mentioned? Well doggone it, it’s a rootin’-tootin’ thumpin’-an’-a-shootin’ pride for the pure notion of winehiking’s appeal; why would I whine about bad news?

Well, because first of all, there’s only one “h” in winehiking.

But it’s been six months since I last posted to this blog, and I realize I need to say something. To someone. To anyone — to anyone still reading this formerly-semiinfluential blog.

And, quite simply, that something is: I still love and value this life, and despite those pesky economic cloud patterns over my head, I have no desire to give it up just yet.

Before I was the winehiker, I was a beer rider!

So while I may be very close to losing my house, I am not going to give up on the things I love to enjoy most, namely, hiking, wine tasting, eating delicious, healthy foods and making other people happy. Well those, yes, and baseball and jazz music and my bicycle and the Great Outdoors and a cold beer on a warm summer afternoon and, most importantly, the people who help make my world go round ‘n’ round.

I’m dreadfully sorry that I’ve neglected you.

But you know? Things are beginning to look up. Indeed, having walked the trail with the Senior Travel Editor, I have reason to believe there’s going to be an article featuring California Wine Hikes in the October issue of Sunset Magazine. Next month, I plan to host an inspiring day of team development for a company that’ll be holding a local conference for its far-flung employees. (You guessed it: there’ll be hiking and wine!)

And, I’ve got a deal in the works with zozi.com coming up tomorrow (Monday).

A satellite view of the San Francisco Bay Area, California. Source: Wikimedia Commons

Wait — you don’t know what a zozi is? Here, check out their site. And if you’re in the greater San Francisco Bay region, I recommend subscribing (for free!) to their weekly deals — especially if you like saving money on fun stuff. Or, sign up if you’re struggling to run a small business like I am and want to raise its visibility.

Or, if you dare to suspend your disbelief just a little longer:  stay tuned to this blog!

That’s right, because in my next post (yes, there shall be a next post!) — i.e., once zozi has gone live with it — I’ll be sharing the link to my zozi deal.

Yep, that’s tomorrow morning!

And if you sign up with zozi (like, say, now, for instance), you’ll then have an opportunity to join me for a winehiking tour, complete with a gourmet picnic lunch and a wine tasting, for 51% off my normal price, only through the zozi.com website, where you’ll be able to find out more about it.**

This earth-shattering 51%-off deal, that is!

Well, I hope it sounds like a sizably seismic deal to you, dear reader. (Think “gourmet lunch.” And wine too! Yeah!!)

The good deal for me? Well heck, I get to enjoy walking the wine trail with you! (It’ll be mercifully easy! Plus I promise not to crack your suspension.)

Because hey, brothers and sisters – I’ve really been missing your fine selves. And, tell ya true: I appreciate your support.

*Still, it’s better than wearing a barrel! Perhaps.
**Deals on zozi.com run for one week only – which is to say, my 51% off a Wine Tasting, Gourmet Lunch and Hiking Tour ($85 Value) deal will expire at midnight Sunday, July 25th, 2010.

~winehiker

Yeah, yeah, I know: people always say that we Californians are pretty gol-dang soft when it comes to enduring the hardships of winter weather. As if we don’t really know what winter weather is!*

Hey, so what are you waiting for? Let’s go swimming! Flickr image courtesy of John Carleton.

Interestingly enough, we actually (still) have seasons out here in the Golden State. Hockey-stick charts notwithstanding, some of us are lately digging into storage trunks for those moth-eaten afghans Grandma crocheted back in 1966!

But, brrrrrr!! It’s so one-armed-well-digger’s-arse cold right now in California!

Why, it’s so cold that…

…after the usual two-mile walk to work this morning, I was compelled to ask the security guard at my building if my nose was still attached to my face.

…the rock that was rattling around inside my shoe turned out to be my big toe.

…I couldn’t read my book on the train this evening because it was too hard to turn the pages while wearing winter gloves.

…despite cranking the heater on the drive home tonight, the cab of my truck didn’t get warm until I pulled into the driveway.

…if this keeps up, I’m trading in my pickup for a trail-groomer snowcat (super-deluxe Gran Touring model).

…in L.A., it was reported that Tiger Woods is (once again) sleeping with his own wife in order to keep warm.

…the flasher in my neighborhood was caught describing himself to women.

…being that I’m of a somewhat contrarian political nature, Global Warming must be a certainty!

…I could swear I saw snowflakes falling outside my 17th floor window yesterday – in downtown San Francisco! Indeed, I will swear! DA-yam!

…shrinkage is suddenly a real concern. Double DA-yam!!

…and, finally: it’s so cold in California that Ahhnold the Governator today had to turn the heat up on the state legislature, again!

Rimshot! >Ba-dump-bump.<

~winehiker

*I have some snow-capped Sierra Nevada mountains to show you – on snowshoes, of course. You can tote-a the bota.

The term sense of place has often been used to describe a wine’s origins, those elements of a wine that can distinguish its taste from the taste of wines produced elsewhere. It is said by many that one can taste the difference between wines produced in geographically disperse regions – due, most notably, to a vineyard’s sun exposure and soil type.

Image courtesy of Mapsof.net

This sense of place, also known as terroir, speaks of the myriad possibilities worldwide for the variety of flavors that can end up in your glass and on your palate.

You probably have a little experience with terroir yourself and may not know it – especially if you’ve ever planted a vegetable garden or sought to understand the relationship between you and your local wilderness. Today I am delighted to announce that my new article, A sense of place, under your feet, is available on Palate Press, the online wine magazine.

~winehiker

Posted via web from winehiker’s posterous

When the light of Summer fades, the heart can grow restless – and Love, like the lengthening nights of Autumn, can drift despairingly into shadows.

Caroline

The wind that whips
The cold that bites
On chilly North Dakota nights
Urges me on
My spirit warms
As I know I’ll soon be in your arms

You tease my heart
You fill my mind
I crave your tender love so kind
Yet struggle on
The driving sleet
Drains me for I am incomplete

I know it’s true
A man it seems
Had preyed upon your thoughts and dreams
I knew that I
Must see this man
My true intentions not so grand

I found him soon
His eyes searched me
We had some words but carelessly
I lost my nerve
I feel so old
By now, my dear, he’s lying cold

I falter now
I’m fading fast
I know I soon will breathe my last
But not before
Your lips meet mine
I’ve always loved you, Caroline

~winehiker

Posted via web from winehiker’s posterous

via flickr.com

Happy winehikers, cavorting along a woodsy path on a late-September morning. These folks joined me last year; would you like to join me this year? If so, you’ll find all the details on my Romp through the Redwoods page.

~winehiker

Posted via web from winehiker’s posterous

The late-Summer post-Labor Day season has always been my favorite time of year for traveling. Kids are back in school, the highways are less trafficked and the pace of Time seems to shift dramatically from the hectic to the serene.

Though the nights can be chillier, there are often three to four good weeks remaining of warm days good for hiking the deserts. The aspens of the high mountains begin to morph into their many shades of gold and red, too – always a signal to me that Winter will soon voice its might. When camping at altitude in September, one must always stay vigilant knowing that sooner or later, volatile weather will be approaching.

While in camp one late morning high up on the Grand Canyon’s North Rim, I witnessed the air around me suddenly take on a furious energy, whipping up a volatile frenzy of leaves and dust. Clouds had begun to loom and grow large above the rim, and the threat of an imminent thundershower was palpable. Lightning was flickering across the skies above this darkening part of the canyon, which itself portrayed a roiling juxtaposition of heat rising from its depths and cool winds aloft. The advancing smell of high-altitude ozone suggested that I had better prepare for an onslaught. Suddenly shivering, I rounded up what little gear I had set out in camp and had no sooner packed it away in the truck when those thunderbumpers opened up and began to spatter down.

I latched the tailgate, dove in over it and pulled the camper shell door shut behind me just as the full fury of the deluge struck. Within mere seconds my life was reduced to a penetrating, deadening roar of rain on the camper shell roof; I was suddenly witnessing the heaviest downpour I had ever experienced. I could do nothing but simply wait out the storm, marveling at its suddenness and ferocity, huddled there in my truck, as the water level upon the ground grew alarmingly fast around me.

The raven, according to Native American legend, brings light to the world.

In fifteen minutes it was all over. In thirty minutes the skies were completely clear. The abrupt temperature drop that preceded the storm had now reversed and steam had begun to rise everywhere – a spectacle of evaporation that soon became so profound, as if to suggest I was suddenly living in a time-lapsed eternity. The silence in those moments was almost as eerie as the steamy, rising vapor. Having reopened the camper door upon Nature’s tableau, I breathed deeply of the rain-washed earth, drinking the spectacle in and allowing my eyes to gaze, my mind to wander.

Within moments, as the mists cleared and the ground around me drained of water, I seemed to feel rather than hear a distant, steady whock whock whock, growing louder, drawing nearer. And then a large shadow, moving quickly, passed low overhead. I smiled as a raven appeared, larger than life, ten feet above the truck. I watched it fly away down the clearing below me, heavy wings flapping, clearing the silence before it.

And Life came back to the Rim.

~winehiker

Posted via web from winehiker’s posterous