Hollering, GeoPutting, and The Stokers

Damned Rodan, Yoda Rob, Suntigres, and BigG7777, 2017 Piedmont Triad GeoPutt Champions
(Photo by Robert Isenhour)

Yoda Rob addresses the ball —
"Hellooooo, ball!" (Photo by
Rob Isenhour)

For me, this was another breakneck weekend, having to fit in serious caretaking on the home front while still getting in gatherings with numerous friends, including some geocaching. For the horror community, it was Stoker award weekend — the festivities being held aboard the Queen Mary in Long Beach, CA (which I've had the pleasure of visiting in the past) — and while I didn't win a Stoker Award, I was on the winning team at the 2017 Geoputt Event in Burlington, which involved some serious and very solemn hootin' and hollerin'.

It started on Friday evening, at the end of a long and ugly bout with a sinus bug that kept me out of work for a couple of days. I was scheduled to make a racket at the third Songwriters' Showcase at The Daily Grind in Martinsville, as I have at the past two. I felt a lot better, but my voice was about shot from several days of snorting and hacking. Regardless, I went for it and somehow managed to crank out three songs without choking. Dunno if it scared anyone away permanently, but the audience was loverly, and no one hurled nasty things at me. Score one.

Wailing on "Nova," one of the songs I wrote back in my college days (Photo by Kimberly Brugger)

Saturday, after handling necessary business on the home front, Kimberly and I headed down to Stonefield Cellers in Stokesdale to share some wine and tall geocaching tales with friend Suntigres (a.k.a. Bridget) and her S.O. BigG7777 (a.k.a. Gerry). The wine and company were great, of course, though the prodigious heat and humidity would have had a devastating effect on my hair if I had any. Ms. B. and I eventually made our way back home for dinner and a movie, and I would love to say this was all very relaxing — it actually was — but certain states of affairs about which I won't elaborate online have cost me countless hours of sleep in the past few months, and last night was no exception. Virtually no sleep. Very, very exhausting, it is.

The notorious Night-hawk,
Putt-Putter extraordinaire
(Photo by Robert Isenour)

But sleep deprivation cannot derail certain trains, and thus it was that Old Robgso, Suntigres, and the BigG met up this morning for a day of geocaching and the annual Geoputt event in Burlington. Our first destination was Siler City, where we put in a few miles of trail hiking — again in hair-curling heat and humidity — and snagged somewhere around twenty caches before heading to Burlington for the Putt-Putt event. For the big tournament, which brought thirty or so geocachers out from all around the region, I teamed up with Yoda Rob, BigG, and Suntigres. Now, back in the dark ages, I was an avid golfer — although Putt-Putt and golfing are almost mutually exclusive activities — and my team put in what appeared to be a pretty respectable showing. And at the end of it all, it turned out that we were indeed the winning team of the event. Woohoo! Wahaa! Hooooey! I even brought home a nice trophy for this astounding achievement. The notorious Night-hawk (a.k.a. Tom) won the individual best score, for which he was awarded an entirely too-small orange vest.

And that, ladies and germs, is why we play.

And in the horror fiction category, several authors of my acquaintance and of unspeakable talent took home their own haunted house trophies for superior achievement at the Bram Stoker award ceremony in Long Beach. The winners were:

Novel: The Fisherman, John Langan
First Novel: Haven, Tom Deady
Young Adult Novel: Snowed, Maria Alexander
Long Fiction: The Winter Box, Tim Waggoner
Short Fiction: “The Crawl Space,” Joyce Carol Oates
Fiction Collection: The Doll-Master and Other Tales of Terror, Joyce Carol Oates
Anthology: Borderlands 6, Oliva F. Monteleone & Thomas F. Monteleone
Non-Fiction: Shirley Jackson: A Rather Haunted Life, Ruth Franklin
Poetry Collection: Brothel, Stephanie M. Wytovich
Graphic Novel: Kolchak the Night Stalker: The Forgotten Lore of Edgar Allan Poe, James Chambers
Screenplay: The Witch

My congratulations to the winners, all quite deserving of the recognition.

For me, tonight's aspiration to actually get a decent night's sleep, for it's going to be another long week. I do turn a whole year older on Tuesday, don't you know.

G'night.

One of the day's most intriguing geocache discoveries, all hand-knitted
and constructed by Sull427 (a.k.a. Jean)

"Go that way. No, THAT way. Dammit, ball." (Photo by Robert Isenhour)

Punkins19 and Skyhawk63 (Photo by Rob Isenhour)

The Healthy Insane

That's us, all right — the Healthy Insane. Well, it makes for an apt geocaching team name, don't you think? What do you mean where are the wine glasses? Well, the wine flowed yesterday, mates.

This has been a memorable couple of days for Ms. Brugger and me, complete with unwelcome interlopers, not-quite-exotic food and drink, high-risk geocaching, horrific movies, and blasphemous storytelling. Friday evening, those diabolical fiends Cortney Skinner and Elizabeth Massie (with whom I co-wrote Dark Shadows: Dreams of the Dark) darkened my doorstep and proceeded to menace my cats for the duration of the weekend. Upon their arrival, I took these awful folk out and forced them to seek geocaches in singularly hazardous places, followed by a tortuous, habanero-spiked Mexican dinner. To keep the theme of inhuman pain and suffering going through the rest of the evening, we settled in to watch The Sound of Horror, a review of which I posted here just the other day ("The Sound of Horror," Sunday, May 29, 2016), followed by a great wailing and gnashing of teeth.

Sometimes, you have to think inside the box.

But of course there was wine, at least for those of us who have been known to partake. (Happily, our trespassers were considerate enough to bring a bottle of Virginia wine for Ms. Brugger, who drinks.) Saturday morning, after beginning the day with the prerequisite caffeine and some acceptable treats from Starbucks, we ventured out into Greensboro's urban wilderness, procured the necessary items for a poisonous picnic, and hied our asses out to Stonefield Cellars in Stokesdale, which is one of our favorite venues for locally produced vino. On our arrival, we discovered there was to be a wedding on the premises — poor sods — but much to our delight, a short distance from the main facility, there hid a pleasant, secluded table, complete with an umbrella to block the hated, blazing day star, where we set up our picnic and savored some particularly nice wine — sangria for Mr. Skinner and Dread Pirate Robert's Red Blend for Ms. B. and me. There were a couple of caches near the winery that I had hunted unsuccessfully not too long ago, one at a haunted house, so after our picnic, we decided to seek revenge on the offending containers. This time, success!

Artist and writer in their natural environment

Once back home, Ms. Massie devoted some more time to menacing my cats, and then Kimberly and I prepared a Pho dinner, which the two of us quite enjoyed and our company appeared to survive (we'll see how things go over the next few days). For dessert, we enjoyed some Klondike bars and It Follows, which our guests had not previously seen (reviewed here by the Old Dude some time ago). After lights out, I heard some intriguing sounds from upstairs, but I did not go to investigate because I'm pretty sure the cats were setting traps for our trespassers. However, as often happens with devices devised by cats, the traps didn't really work. It's kind of like when Frazier, after plotting long and hard to give Dad what-for, conceals himself, lies in wait for God knows how long, and then, when opportunity arises, comes barreling out to accost me. However, since he really doesn't know what to do when he catches me, he just sits down.

This morning, it was back to Starbucks for a final social gathering, featuring plentiful tall tales and imparting of Wisdom, largely provided by one Wisdommamus Evughwemuya, who desperately desired friendship with Ms. Massie on Facebook. By searching his face on the interwebs, we discovered that the good Wisdommamus possesses dozens of different names, nationalities, and professions, so if he comes looking for you — beware!

Finally, it was time for an emotional parting of the ways (the cats danced for joy). All in all, another memorable run-in with our hated enemies, and I truly hope it is not so long before our next opportunity to clash. I shall celebrate their departure and eventual demise with some leftover Pho.

Adieu, my fiendish foes.

Geocacher, gecocache, and haunted house in Stokesdale

Beware this man, who desires to impart only the wisdom of the scam!

Wining and Sciencing

Kidlet came into town from New York City last week, and she's staying with me this weekend. She wanted to see the Greensboro Natural Science Center, as she hadn't been there since she was a wee youngster and it was a single building with just a few displays — and except for hunting geocaches on or around its premises, I've never been. It's now an extensive, multi-million-dollar complex, with lots of live animal displays, dinosaurs, rocks & minerals, aquariums, and a treetop rope course (which Allison did not care to do, but I'm quite sure I want to give it a go). We spent a good couple of hours seeing the sights, the highlight surely being the pair of tigers who have a nice big area to roam and mingle with guests — well, almost. We were also quite taken with the pair of fishing cats, a passel of penguins, a bunch of otters, and stingrays of all sizes, which you can pet as they glide past through the pool. There's a huge octopus, which we were told only rarely makes an appearance, but it was kind enough to treat us to a brief appearance when it came out from its cover of rocks to check out the passersby. Bet he would have made for some serious tako-su at any of the nearby Japanese restaurants (octopus is one of my favorites, by the way).

Out in the zoo area, there were several dinosaur-sized tortoises; a number of playful gibbons in the trees; some shy lemurs gathered together in a hovel and grooving on a pict; and a peacock strutting around the pedestrian walkways, which made me wonder whether we had stumbled onto the NBC lot by mistake.

Afterward, we headed over to Stonefield Cellars Winery in the Stokesdale area — by way of a few geocaches — which made for a most pleasant afternoon, the weather kindly cooperating with sunshine and balmy temperatures. We shared a bottle of their Synchronicity red blend, which is one of their many excellent red selections. It was nice to see that Stonefield has a new winery cat, named Fizzgig (from The Dark Crystal). Some time ago, their original winery cat, Noah — a beautiful bengal cat — passed away. Fizzgig — whom Allison referred to as Francis — proved himself affable company while one is drinking wine in the great outdoors.

Then, finally, we made our way back into town and met Ms. Brugger, Jenny Chapman, and Doug Cox at Casa Vallarta Mexican Restaurant for dinner. Fair Mexican fare, excellent company. Today, the kid is preparing us a nice lunch. I hope to survive to tell the tale.

Brought to you in living color.

Droolie in his dreams

Fishing cats, sans fish

Fizzgig, a.k.a. Francis

Dad and Kidlet

Tyger, Tyger, Burning Bright

There is much to appreciate about Stonefield Cellars, one of the many wineries in this area, and the wine is just one of them. Noah, the owners' Bengal cat, always stands ready to greet you when you arrive, and even on a particularly chilly day, he has certain wily ways of keeping warm. Brugger and I hadn't been to Stonefield in a while, so yesterday we decided to pay it a visit for a tasting and a spot of wine in the scenic garden area. Happily, they had a fire burning in the fire pit, and we met another pleasant couple who enjoyed wine and cats about as much as we do. It proved an excellent way to spend a near-frigid afternoon — so different from the previous day when I worked up a sweat just by setting foot outdoors.

Stonefield Cellars features a decent selection of white, red, and sweet wines, all made from the grapes they grow at the vineyard. Brugger and I aren't much for whites or sweets, but their dry reds are distinctive, particularly their reserve wines — Cabernet Franc, Cabernet Sauvignon, and a pair of blends called Beneficence and Barrel X. Also noteworthy are their Sangiovese and a blend of all their grapes called Mountain Mama Madness. With rare exception, I am not overly fond of Merlot, but Stonefield's aptly named Gato, which features Noah on the label, goes down very smoothly. Today, Stonefield is having their holiday open house, with live music, warm mulled wine, and some special discounts; it's unfortunate there's freezing rain out there, making the weather not so conducive for getting out and about. I do hope they have a decent turnout. If you're a local oenophile and haven't been over to Stonefield Cellars, hie thee there at once. You won't regret it.

Caterwining

That there is Noah Stonefield—resident Bengal cat at Stonefield Cellars Winery in Stokesdale, NC. Went out that way last evening with Kimberly and the young 'un, who is in town helping to look after her mother following some fairly serious surgery. Stonefield's not a very large place, but they've got a decent catalog of wines, with some particularly good red varieties (my color of choice). Last night was their holiday open house, which meant free tastings and 15% off purchases; needless to say, this made for some mighty attractive bait, and we laid into it.

Without question, Stonefield's Reserve Cabernet Sauvignon and their Reserve Malbec are the best they have to offer. I'm also very partial to their Sangiovese and "Barrel X" varieties. Not quite as much to my liking but still most interesting are "Mountain Mama Madness" (available in both white and red) and "Dread Pirate Robert's Bloody Red" (which I usually cannot resist purchasing, even if it's not my favorite of the flavors, just because the packaging is awesome).

Stonefield is a scenic enough little spot, particularly now with their abundant Christmas decorations about the property. They have a rather charming little outdoor area with a fire pit and several tables, so since the weather has been unseasonably warm (in shirt sleeves in December), we sat outside after the tasting and each drank a glass—their warm mulled spice wine, which was indeed delicious.

After this little venture, we made our way over to Winston-Salem for another little wine event at our friends Terry and Beth Nelson's place—snagging a few caches en route, of course. Lots of food, drink, and good company. A Chilean Cabernet, a brand called Calina, also caught our attention here.

Today, it was out on the geocaching trail for most of the day; added a few more to the total, so now I'm 32 shy of 4,000. Lots of flesh wounds from hacking through brier hell today. I might need a spot of wine to recuperate....

Young'un with the old man. Apparently, her face is stuck like that.

Hmm. Looks like she might have gotten it unstuck, but I'm not sure it's going to last.