you know i clicked on the old post and read the comments and i thought who was that cheeky jerk commenting, he's a bit much, and and i looked and it was me. i want to say that i'm sorry for everything i've ever said to you. i'm a bastard. i realize that now.

What?!? It was like cat pee and turpentine. You are always right to deflate my visions of grandeur. Was it not you who spoke up when the tank brigades were idling and waiting for instructions on the Peruvian border?

you're right. i'm beautiful again.

You actually had <i>grapevines</i>.

Will you marry me?

Yes. No. I am taken and, beside, David Ortiz is out there still.

I'm taken too, but monogamy is such an unnatural existence, isn't it? ;-)

You may tell yourself that access to a vineyard is not always a good idea when one is re-evaluating one's relationship with existence.<p>On the upside, each vine in full production should give 2-3 bottles so the old plan for the 200 vines amazes even me. My first goal achieved was to just grow enough that I could smoosh them all over my gaping maw as I sucked in the sweet syrupy juice. Once I did I realized I was outside, in view of others and looking silly.

HA! I know, I am such a lush.

But I'm really kidding. I am sooooo happily married. Without grapevines, but happy nonetheless!

Happy sipping!

I'd encourage you to grow one as they are gravel loving weeds but I think you are in Newfoundland. Visions of Spring Greenhouses.