Wine. It's everywhere out here... Target, the grocery stores (one has 4 times as much wine as produce.) Not only is it readily available, it's cheap. So we've taken to drinking it almost every night. A glass of wine with dinner is very European, right? Plus, we are assimilating to our new surroundings, so naturally we should be discovering the subtle differences of Oregonian valleys and grapes.

While sipping wine at night out on the veranda (that's European for "porch") might feel continental, we wonder at the rate of a glass every night, will "European" soon be replaced with "wine gut?"

Now, before you make plans of poking our bellies in hopes of a joyful "coo...", let me tell you that we have plans to prevent our potential pooch with, well, our pooch.

While Miss Patsy has had no trouble locating and quickly choking down various discarded chicken bones in the park across the street (4 of them today!), her deteriorating back is no match for the many stairs in our new home. She simply props her front legs on the first step and then turns around to look at us with a, "Well, I'm waiting," in her eyes (Note from Dave - I hear her voice as Rasputia from Norbit). Being the obedient humans that we are, one of us scoops her up and carries her up the flight of stairs. Or both flights if we're lucky. Yep, this is what we fondly call, "Ewald Crosstraining." You know in the World's Strongest Man Competition when they haul 300 pound steel barrels from point a to point b? It's kind of like that, but our barrel is a furry 40 pound beagle/basset with chicken bone breath.

Haulin' pooch and poppin' cork. That's life as an Ewald in Oregon.