I was a little busy training for a very long walk, so I decided to multi-task.

Mrs. October
in this issue of the Seattle Weekly

So, I’m super sick, probably from all that high fiving this weekend. I don’t normally high five, for personal and sanitary reasons, but when a kid is carrying a sign saying, “Thanks for walking for my mom!” yeah, I think I slap the little guy some skin.

Sooo I’m browsing food sections this morning and I see the Seattle P-I’s pick of the week is a $17 Valpolicella, and it hits me. I have my first old moment, because in my brain Valpolicella DOES NOT cost $17. No offense, Allegrini.

Here are other things in my brain of which I’m having a hard time letting go:

2.) Prosecco CAN’T cost more than $12.
3.) A bottle of straight up Chianti (no “Classico”) is $10.
4.) Spanish wine gives the best value.

In answer to my inner Mrs. Bitterman, I will now do the following:

Find out what the other Valpolicellas are running, probably cry.
2.) Look for the cheapest Cremant de Anything I can find.
3.) Head south for Salice Salentinos and Sicilians, plenty still for $10.
4.) Nope, that one’s still true.

I have to wonder, are all these prices due to the Euro’s position to the dollar? Or are companies having to spend more on brand presence and marketing in a crowded market and therefore charge more in order to sell more? I know that last sentence doesn’t make sense, but neither does the wine business.

In a time when our financial markets ARE FUCKING FALLING APART, you’d think most wineries could have the sense god gave a fucking goat to keep their entry level products at a stable, low price. I’m no marketing genius, but I do know that the person that buys a $17 bottle of wine is not the person that buys a $14.99 bottle of wine is not the person that buys a $10 bottle of wine.

Uh, last I checked, most Americans don’t view wine as a staple. I’d love to see a winery like Allegrini, or some Chianti maker, take their entry level wine and but it in a 1 liter box or tetra pack and charge $10 or less. That winery would be smart. That winery would make a killing.

Oh wait, somebody already does.

We had some buzzwords todAy, to keep each other from bitching, and most of them had to do with people who were far more disadvantaged than us, yet powered through anyway, whether they were on crutches or SIXTY-NINE years old.

Our wonderful sponsor Craig of Betty, fed us enchiladas, fresh tomatoes and fresh guac. His wife Val Markus was our team’s pace setter and keeping up with her before lunch nearly wrecked me. But the agua fresca and the margaritas were soooo appreciated. Thank you Craig and Jerry!

Our captain, my captain Mich Suzuki made us all pretty damn proud telling her story at the nightly gathering. We know she’s pissed she can’t walk every mile, but as her momma said: she give 200% in thought and action so it’s OK. We’re all here because of her. So she’s done eniuh in my eyes. And I’ll never forget this experience she’s given us, and all of these amazing women I’ve met because of her. She’s the planet around which we all revolve.

My feet are clocking in at 115 degrees right now, yet Ive not squelched my consumption of Heinies and or gin. After 45 miles (the fliers lie), 16 tomorrow IN SEATTLE feels like a fucking cake walk. I can’t wait for some decent coffee.

Sorry this is short, but I can only type so much on my iPhone, gotta save the battery. Good night!

I’m sitting in my tent, with ice on my knee. After making fun. Of a woman releasing a blood curdling scream over a fire hydrant, I ran into a bus bench with my kneecap, Smack! Karma. Fuck.

With Spearhead in the distance and the Velodrome fired up, I still don’t think Ill have any problem sleeping. My wonderful husband met us off the grid at mile 17.8 with oatmeal cherry cookies and libations. Never have high school spaghetti and frozen veggies tasted so delicious.

I can’t believe how supported we are. I feel so pampered, whether some biker dude lavishing us with his mister, or an unbelievable assortment of baked goods from supporters (I will remember that pink rice crispie from mile 11.)

I might even gain weight on this walk… Good night blisters, good night Klingon kneecap, try to get some sleep ruined hip flexor.

At least you’re not on crutches.

oh by god, I am going to cry. I am the most cynical person in the world, but Im pretty overcome by the kindness of strangers. People at corners passing out candy and stickers and encouragement. All my favorite snacks have been represented: Carrots, string cheese, potato chips, Oreos, and donut holes. A very enjoyable walk so far.

A special honorable mention for the Parrotheads of Greater Puget Sound. I hate Jimmy Buffet, but your gatorade slushies were the shit.

This made me laugh. But chaffing is a serious matter, folks. And I’m about to find out all about it the next three days. I’m walking in the Seattle Breast Cancer

Although I’m a little pissy about the fact that the SEATTLE 3-Day starts in freaking BELLEVUE. Uh…not cool. Not cool at all. But my team is very cool, as you’ll see the next couple days. We raised an assload of cash (over $80,000), and we’ve all been training like mad. Yes, you have to train to walk. 20 miles a day ain’t no joke.

I’m not worried about the walking, I used to bartend in platforms. Sure, there will be blisters, but I’m most worried about the food. And something needs to be done about ending the day without beer. How can you expect me to walk that far without a beer at the end…Yes, something must be done about that…

Oh, and do you know what you do to prevent from chaffing? Yep, Vaseline and baby powder. Though my team prefers Bodyglide and Gold Bond.

You can still give me money by donating to the Susan G. Komen foundation HERE. If I can walk 60 miles for breast cancer research, the least you can do is donate 4 times the price of your daily latte.

I’d like to thank my unofficial sponsors:

Big 5 Sporting Goods (Yes, walking shoes are butt ugly, but here they are cheap.)
Kitty Harbor (the carrot at the end of my 14 milers)
The Stephanie Miller show (how would i get through those boring training walks without it!)
Laughing Buddha Ginger Pale Ale
Hotwire Coffee
Too Beautiful Too Live (it’s growing on me)
The Long Now Foundation (I heart Nassim Taleb.)
And of course, ALL OF MY AMAZING DONORS!

Ack! Aren’t they just too fucking precious?

I don’t know whether their for drinking or douching. If you say to me, “But Maggie, it’s Japanese, it’s baby blue, and it’s got bubbles,” I would normally need no more information to order 10 pounds or 100 or 2 cases or 500 shares, whatever. Double that if it has it’s own cartoon mascit.

I am crazy for Japan like Japanese girls are crazy for kitties. But I am also a cheap bastard, you at least know that by now. So just like I would never pay 10,000 yen for a square watermelon…

Sparkle and Bling: Sake Makes Its Move>
Nelly can’t be far behind
in this issue of the Seattle Weekly

After a life working behind bars and in restaurants (and feeling like I was pretty damn great at it), two years in wine retail just about killed me. Well, more accurately I just about killed.

Never had I seen people so uptight about something so unbelievably trivial as those that pepper the wine business. I fucking hated it. The games I had to play (I couldn’t), the Passo-Aggro dialect I couldn’t understand, the posturing and glaring insecurities amongst the alleged wine cognoscenti, and worst of all…the damage that it’s all done to consumers. Customers who cling to bits of information like little life preservers amidst the waves of marketing bullshit.

I am a populist. I tried to sell wine like a populist, and it worked. But I still had to deal with those annoying trophy hunters, and elitists–and the machine that creates them, all of whom give wine a bad name.

In a world where no wine label can be trusted, at a time when Americans crave honest information, one man and his Jeep fight 12 bottles at a time for truth, juiciness, and an easier way:

Going the Extra Mile for Wine
in this issue of the Seattle Weekly

I was minding my own business last night when the opportunity presented itself to have a few brews, one being the new De Proef Signature Series brewed in collaboration with Allagash. My friend Alan is the importer who started this project, and we tasted the first bottle with Tomme Arthur, who was in Washington to settle some hop contracts (he was also the first collaborator with De Proef last year) and Gary, the owner of Beveridge Place.

I’m going to give this beer my highest, Christopher Walken rating, as in wowwy wow wow. It’s a golden ale fermented with multiple bret strains, including one unique to Allagash. The first thing that hit me was the sweet stink of apricots, bitter almonds, rising pizza dough and funk. I immediately wanted cheese, gorgonzola dolce or something gooey and super stinky like an overripe Epoisse.

Jason and Dirk ended up with something very special, a fruitful beer that manages to fit the style and go beyond at the same time. It’s got a hint of sour on the finish and a great ride to it–from that apricot high through a mouth full of beautiful, creamy, hop-laced lightness, and an underlying farmhouse quality that comes out in the homestretch.

Why would you buy a $10 bottle of mediocre white wine when you could have something so exquisite as this for the same price? Because you’re “a wine drinker??” Life’s too damn short. Learn to be EOE.

What’s the Difference Between Pale Ale & IPA?
in this issue of the Seattle Weekly

Most people order beer and wine like they buy Charmin or Simple Green. They get the name or grape they know. Ordering beer is far easier than ordering wine because beer is like cheese. If a beer says “hefeweizen,” you pretty much know what to expect, same as with cheddar or gouda. It’s a style. With wine, you often have no idea what man or machine did to the damn grapes before they made it in the bottle. Through experience, people remember the kind of cheese or beer they like most. And I think that’s all that should really be required of them.

At one point in my life, I only knew that I preferred certain Italian wine above others. Now I can tell you in annoying detail what makes these wines tick. But that’s my job. Most jobs have nothing to do with drinking; they just inspire it.

So if you think the above question is stupid, tell me–what makes a cheddar different from a gouda? Not so easy is it, Smarty?