Have You Ever Stomped Grapes?

Have you ever been to a Grape Stomp? We certainly hadn't - but it sounded fun! The Truro Vineyards (in Truro, of course) hosts a Jazz festival and grape stomp as part of "Truro Treasures" weekend. It's all small town, community-building type fun, and happens every fall. Today at the Vineyard there was a craft fair, wine tastings, food vendors, live bands... and an actual grape stomp.

The workers poured crate after crate filled with grapes into a large wooden vat and announced, "Okay kids, time to jump in!"

Honestly, it's not only the kids who jumped for it. There were plenty of grown-up type folks who'd seen Lucille Ball do this in black and white a lo-o-o-ng time ago, and just couldn't resist.

It was quite crowded at first, so that it was hard to even take photos, but the novelty wore off quickly as parents realized that grape stains don't come out, and kids realized that cold grapes squishing between your toes doesn't make for long term enjoyment. My daughter and a few others were the exceptions, with parents that didn't mind the stains and toes that found the squishing to be intensely fun.
My daughter and her new friend Peyton were among the last to leave the stomping vat. Another little boy wanted to be the very last one. He kicked grapes at my daughter (note the stains all the way up her legs) but then he promptly (and deservedly) fell on his bottom. Boom. Splat. Grapes stuck everywhere. His parents dragged him out of the vat.

My proud wine maker. She's never seen that episode of "I Love Lucy" ... but when she does, she can honestly say, "Hey! I've done that! I even got into a grape fight (sort of) in the vat!"

If you get a chance, you should try this. She give it two thumbs (and ten crimson-colored toes) way up.

Just Write It.

I started the week with a walk on this beach. It was inspiring and overwhelming in its beauty. I couldn't wait to get home and write the scenes that ran through my head as the dogs and I hiked along the sandy shores.

I've written nothing this week.

I've sat down at the computer every day. I've sent tons of emails, mostly to people who've written or want to write for the magazine. And edited the pages I wrote last week. And tweaked. And surfed the 'net. And worked on target market sell sheets for the magazine. And researched. And. And. And.

My desk is a lived-in mess. But I haven't written anything new. Now it's Friday. Do I really want my word count for the week to be a big ol' goose egg? I think not.

Stop blogging. Start writing.

Puppy Visits Nauset Light Beach

My son's new high school is a mere mile from Nauset Light Beach. It's part of the National Seashore, and one of the beaches that allows pets if they're on leashes and you stay away from the lifeguard areas. Now that the lifeguards have gone home, it's all fair game.
At first, Puppy didn't understand why she needed to be on her leash. On our beach we let the dogs run free. But our beach is much smaller, more contained. Here, the ocean and beaches stretch on forever.
Once they got used to the idea, Puppy and the Big Dog were all smiles, happy to walk along the long, wide beach, feeling the cold waves roll in over their paws once in a while. We walked for an hour, and only passed a handful of other people and no other dogs.

We also stopped a few times to sit and listen to the roar of the waves. We watched seals popping their heads above water to stare back at us. Seagulls whirled overhead and a few sandpipers scuttled to and fro at the edge of the waves.

What a great way to start a new week.

Puppy Does Some Sunday Reading

Puppy is at it again.

I've written before about her taste for books, devouring my mother's copy of THE HELP before I could read it.

Now she's eaten yet another book from off someone's bed, this time from my son's room. Ironically, the words and music to "Hound Dog" were scattered all over the place.
Last month, she chewed up two of my daughter's books. One was her favorite Baby Mouse book that she takes to summer camp every year to gather the names and phone numbers of her tent mates. I was able to tape that cover back together - and all of the phone numbers but one are still legible. One or two of the pieces are missing, but that will just make for a funny story next year at camp. The other book was unrecoverable...

It's hard to stay mad at her - I mean, really, look at that smile - but this has to stop. I have too many books to keep them all out of her reach.