I Digress...never settle

Does every post have to be about service dogs? Since this is my blog, and I just spent a neat couple of days with my best friend, (with out the dog; his choice) I thought I would write about that tonight.

Bert and I left the kids in Newark at various friends' houses and escaped to the wine country of Conneaut, in Ashtabula County Ohio on Lake Erie to celebrate our marriage of 21 years. Seems hard to believe we can be that mature(I won't say old) but I feel like we're still only 21 years old and yet we are definitely not. Conneaut, a Seneca Indian word which the meaning is debated as "river of large-mouth fish" or "place of late snows", has been an exit that we pass by on our way to Buffalo but have never visited in the past 17 years. I have always wondered what kind of quaint adventure could be discovered in this far north eastern corner of Ohio right on Lake Erie.

I chose the destination for several reasons. First, our favorite place in Hocking Hills, "The Sparky" cabin was booked, second I found a vineyard with bed and breakfast that was comparably priced to "The Sparky" that wasn't booked, and lastly because we could finally get off of the I-90 and check out what Conneaut was all about. Lake Erie, wine and us: Excellent!

We arrived at Buccia Vineyard on Friday around 6pm. Our hosts had their vintage wines uncorked and available to sample freely which they also seemed to be enjoying. We were shown our room by Fred Buccia and although we saw pictures on the web site, the waterbed in the loft with only a foot to spare around two sides of it, was even more awkward to ascend to in real life than what I imagined. Our room was at first glance tidy and neat. Other quests also arrived and joined the small crowd forming on the patio sampling wines, "lighting up" and relaxing.

Fred asked Bert and I what kind of wines we like and I offered that I prefer drier reds such as cabs and drier whites such as sauvingon blanc. Fred warned us that the bottles to the right side of the group of bottles we wouldn't like because he forgot to mark the barrels the first time he added the sugar and then added a second dose of sugar. It surprised me that he would bottle and serve and/or sell his mistake but I guess he's got to make a living. Still, isn't there a reputation to be considered here that should last beyond vintage '08?

So we were getting hungry and I had prepared some kabobs to grill on our private deck and we went to be alone. In our suite we noticed details ignored over time such as the dust collected on light fixtures and the decorative lattice separating the "living area" from the "kitchen area" and the framed newspaper clippings literally falling apart on the walls. There was a strange "loft balcony" overlooking our hot tub that was started to be painted but was left half done. On our deck, where we grilled, we observed several places of the exterior T-11 siding where someone had begun to paint, but again, just quit halfway through. Not all of it was even the same color. I wondered if it would ever be completed all one color and which one would it be?

We were told our breakfast would be set on the bench outside our door in the morning. Time? Not determined. It was about 9:30 when it arrived. On the breakfast tray I found a carafe of OJ, two custard cups with half a banana each, sliced, with cream poured over top and some sort of 1/4 inch thick pastry with sweet icing and powdered sugar sprinkled on top. None of this impressed us so we headed into Conneaut for a bagel or muffin and good cup of coffee. The Perkin's in town was closed with yellow caution tape around it. Health department? We can only imagine. There was evidence that at one time there were more choices but today in Conneaut there are just three: McDonald's (is that really a choice?), State Street Diner and Basil's. We chose Basil's.

The menu was what you would expect at any diner. Maxwell house coffee, eggs any way, bacon, pancakes from box mix, white toast, you know, ordinary, mediocre. Not fresh roasted excellent coffee, homemade bread, or a traditional family muffin recipe. No choices of cheese on my egg muffin sandwich; just American cheese. I could have gone to McDonald's.

As we looked around this lakeside town we saw little to boast about. Many of the homes were shadows of what once was a thriving town, then, probably proud of it's shipping, fishing, and agriculture progress. How could this little lakeside goldmine become so lacking of commerce and bustling tourism? The lake was beautiful and inviting and yet the locals in Conneaut seemed to not know the value of marketing their gem. Maybe because it is still just Memorial Day weekend the season hasn't really begun. Maybe they didn't notice the value of what they have.

We went on our way to explore this corner of our state. We found Biscotti Family Vineyard. It was early in the day so it was not surprising the parking lot was empty. We found our way to the shop and tasting room. There were various gifts to be purchased such as beaded bracelets,
t-shirts, coffee mugs and other things crowding the small room. Nothing stood out to say, "Buy me!" Was there nothing worth its price tag? Or, was nothing displayed with the care to point out its value. Details.

On this crisp sunny day we took our wine outside to sit on the deck. The weather had taken its toll on this old deck. Its boards were cupped from incorrect paint on them, the gardens were no longer manicured and the pond was not reflecting because of the algea growth. Once again, attention paid to details seemed to be lacking. The picnic table was so badly weathered that there was real danger of a bottem full of splinters if you set it down there. Any one of these things would be unnoticeable by themselves but added up they equal mediocrity, averageness, second rate quality. A simple lack of concern or drive for excellence prevented one from taking notice of a sense of value here.

We explored further. I thought, "There must be something we're missing. Something excellent." Bert wanted to see some covered bridges, another thing this area is known for. Another winery was listed near a couple of bridges. So we set out to Tarsitano Winery and found a covered bridge as well as Markko Vineyard. The Bridge was not that impressive to us since it had been recently rebuilt; and while it looked of excellent sturdy construction time had not yet proven its worthiness.

Tarsitano Winery caught our attention though. Well cared for vines, long grass between rows yet a new barn/building and an old house in the process of updates. Inside was nothing overly impressive in terms of material value but there was intentional order. Care in placement of furniture. An upbeat greeting and a sense of pride in product. The menu had common ravioli, but, not. It was described in new and creative ingredients. We tasted the wines and they tasted better than all we tasted so far. Maybe it was seeing the effort put into them that made them taste better but we felt we tasted attention to detail in pursuant of excellence.

Next we stumbled upon Markko vineyard. Much like the 1960's established Buccia and Biscotti vineyards Markko showed its age. The tasting room in the woods had long lost its newness. The wines did taste as good if not better than Tarsitano. Ironically, it was Buccia and Markko that most helped Tarsitano in its beginnings. But I think friendly humility, creativity and appreciation for our patronage drew us back to Tarsitano for lunch on our way home with a purchase of our one bottle to celebrate next year's anniversary.

This made me think about...our marriage. 21 years. There was a time we didn't pay attention to detail. We settled for average. We became mediocre and our marriage became in disrepair and couldn't reflect the beauty God intended for it to reflect. It was the Lord who woke us from our numb acceptance of average and as we sought Him, He gave us the hunger for excellence in our relationship. He taught us to serve each other unconditionally, creatively. To do the work, not for payment, but for the value of serving in love.

I am thankful for 21 excellent years.

Everyone must start somewhere

I had no idea how easy it would be to start my own blog!



I want to use this tool to tackle a summer project. This summer I will chronicle the life of our service foster dog "Oakley". She will be the subject of most of my posts here as I attempt to craft a worthwhile "read" about her journey to become a service dog to a child with disabilities.



I am not a writer but seem to be surrounded by them and feel inspired to write her story. The organization responsible for Oakley and her training, 4 Paws for Ability, deserves some recognition and I hope to help them gain some exposure as well.



I am a 42 year old homeschool mom (4 children) and wife. I really don't need to add another thing to our busy life but hopefully this will be a theraputic "thing". I should probably warn that although I want to focus on Oakley and our experience fostering future Service dogs, other parts of our life will creep into my posts such as faith, homeschooling, raising teens, health and fitness, marriage, politics etc.

Whether writing about Oakley or the other nuances of my life I hope to just become better as a writer and communicator.