The tasty grape

You can't write about our vacation and not mention a little wine tasting. The central coast of California in the past decade had turned from rolling hills of cattle grazing to vineyards.

We found Roblar Winery in the Santa Ynez valley when we went looking for an establishment listed in the travel book that featured olives. Don't trust those Chamber of Commerce books they send you, this one was more wrong than right.

Frustrated with the address given we pulled into the parking lot of a beautiful building that looked like a very large restaurant. No signage. None. But once inside we realized we'd found a tasting room/restaurant and completely ignoring the fact it wasn't even noon, approached the bar. This was the first of many.

The wine was very tasty and after the seven servings we were on our way. The Syrah was, in my uneducated opinion, the best but at 48 bucks a bottle not on my shopping list. Onward.

A few more stops, one for a light lunch which I did not partake and this is a key part to the afternoon for me, and then to Fess Parker Winery. Whoo doggies, everyone remembers Fess Parker, right? Well, for some of you youngins, here's what we were doing in the early 50s. Watching Davy, Davy Crocket, king of the wild frontier.

After that, it was all a blur, a few more wineries, some good others crap then, at the last, I realized how the word "tipsy" got associated with inebriation. First, let me state I was not drunk but tipsy, yes. I bent over to pick up something and just keep going. My inner ear was screaming at me to – balance, get your balance, girl – but my brain said, hey man, just go with the flow. So I flowed down to my knees. Glad I was alone.

All in all it was a wonderful day and by the time we got back to our camp, I was fine. I was surprised at how much wine I'd bought but fine.