Isn’t it always difficult to find a sliver of time in your week to just sit and be at peace? I have implemented a Monday afternoon strategy where I take myself to Christopher’s Crush Lounge and indulge in the quiet. I imagine one day this could become some type of Beauviorain escapade, filled with poets and philosophers and life-changing conversations. It’s like a Parisian café in the centre of Phoenix, yes?
Ok maybe not. For now it’s just me and my notebook and wine. Which is decidedly a great deal, given that I have children and school and a job and a partner who all desire my time and energy. It is decadent, this hour long respite from my otherwise frenetic life. If you haven’t been to this gem of a place I cannot recommend it enough. For lunch it is efficient, delicious and likely the best service in town. Happy Hour is ridiculous because your bill will be so low you might have to check the math. And if you like food, you can sit at the kitchen bar and watch the chefs prepare for dinner. Dinner at Christopher’s is always an experience. I am pretty sure this has been my go to restaurant for the past 20 years.
That was last night – while I was sitting and staring off into space after receiving some particularly wonderful professional news I was not up for focusing. I was, however, up for a beautiful Bourgogne. What is that? You might ask, as I did. It is French for Burgundy. Which is an area in France known for wine. What has always been frustrating and confusing to me about French wine is that it is named after its location as opposed to its grape. I find the grape method to be more efficient, and it takes up less space in my head.
That being said this wine is a Pinot Noir grape, which feels important, even though the French do not think it so. I will say with my limited knowledge, I do know that I prefer Pinot Noir grown in the Willamette Valley to that grown in the Russian River Valley. So perhaps they are on to something, but it’s still fussy. I guess talking about wine is always a bit fussy.
Today was quite a different experience, as I went to Spring Training. If you are not lucky enough to experience Phoenix in March you are not lucky at all. Quite possibly the most beautiful weather around, especially when contrasted with the piles of snow all across the rest of the world. Phoenix has always been a winter paradise, but in recent years it has turned into some kind of ridiculous baseball Mecca, and even those of us who live here are obliged to take part in this homage to the upcoming season.
I don’t care about baseball. And it was hot out. I think I would enjoy it more sitting in those seats in the shade, and possibly without all of my co-workers. I have been admonished for complaining about this by several people. It’s outside! Have a drink! Relax!
I guess I just think it’s dumb overall. But so many people like it. I’m going again in a few weeks with the boys. Hopefully then I will be in the shade.