drewd The Adventures of Carlos d'Avis

One of the finest meals I have ever eaten was in Tamarindo, Costa Rica on the group's final night before returning home. We went to the finest restaurant in Tamarindo, Carolinas. Trusting the house, and our inimitable host and the owner of the restaurant, we delighted through an incredible tasting menu. The notes I have are from a dog-eared print of the menu with somewhat unclear scrawl for each wine pairing—I apologize for the lack of clarity in identifying the wines. And so I offer, as faithfully as I can, that menu:

Smoked salmon over rosti served with a sour cream wasabi sauce and salad bouquet
Rincon Famoso Blanco (Chenin Blanc and Chardonnay), Argentina

Tomato cream soup
Macabeo Chardonnay, Paredes, Spain

Fettucine with fresh tomatoes, olive oil, garlic, olives and black mussels
Rosso d'Umbria Beccoditalco (?) Italy

Grilled beef tenderloin with a champagne mustard sauce served with au gratin potatoes and vegetables
Vistamar Grand Reserva Syrah-Cabernet Sauvignon 2005, Maipo, Chile

Banana fritters with vanilla ice cream and hot chocolate sauce
Reserva Privado Late Harvest Sauvignon Blanc de Concha y Toro, Maule Valle, Chile

Digestif: Marc d'Adoracion, Propiete de Monsieur Auguste Moreau a Beaune
I have no idea what this stuff was—a brandy or cognac of some sort? The bottle was incredibly old. At this point in the evening, all the other customers had left and the owner, Carolina, was talking and laughing with us, so pleased that young tourists were truly interested in her food and wine and story. She brought out the Marc as a treat, I think, and offered us Scotch, as well.

And, when we left, we were delighted once more to receive a bottle of wine from Carolina as thanks for our great enjoyment of their hospitality. (Take a lesson, United States!) Hey... where did that bottle of wine go? I believe it is in Seattle, and I will do my best to find it before I leave.

I have been reading again the beautiful work of José Saramago. His prose is quite dense, featuring unbelievably long sentences and no special delineation of dialogue, each thought punctuated only by a comma. But still, without doubt, the narrative and soul of the work warrants the careful reading required.

My present Saramago project, All the Names, tells of Senhor José and his struggle to find truer purpose in a life of isolation and habit. Wading languidly through phrase after phrase, a little gem of words will reveal itself to me, and I will pause to consider its facets and take in its shine. Such was the case reading yesterday, considering the journey of Senhor José through the archive of the dead and receiving this truth:

Don't be afraid, the darkness you're in is no greater than the darkness inside your own body, they are two darknesses separated by a skin, I bet you've never thought of that, you carry a darkness about with you all the time and that doesn't frighten you, …

I will leave you to take your own meaning, even if such is difficult or impossible lacking the context of the novel. Or perhaps I will say, and not altogether seriously, that all matters without are likewise within. Regardless, read Saramago: Blindness and The Double were each fantastic. Saramago received the Nobel Prize for literature in 1998 and for good reason. Happy reading!

What am I doing with my car? I am sitting in my dining room on 17th and Denny and looking out the window at Sparkle Motion, wondering at its fate while I am far far away. And I think about the six weeks that I have left in Seattle—six weeks from today until December 22nd—and I freak out a little bit and then I feel guilty for worrying about my car when Sarah's was just stolen from in front of our house three nights ago. What is the deal with this autumn? Seriously. And what asshole steals Sarah's car? Do you know how great she is? I can only imagine that this asshole probably needs help to quit smoking. Sarah could give you that help! If only you weren't busy being an asshole!

We have been blowing between crisp, bright days and incessant rain and gray, with plenty of wind throughout either option. Natalie and I found ourselves, one afternoon, at an intersection of hundreds of crows, perched in trees and on houses and lawns and tossed up in black cawing whorls by the blustery wind. And it was bright that day and the crows were magic, but then last Thursday and Friday we had thunder and lightning and hail and that was a totally different magic. I can't say that I'm certain what you're trying to tell me, Seattle, but I think I'll just continue with my present plan. I am leaving and I might have a few matters to which to attend?

• Find proper home for Sparkle Motion, my 2006 Honda Civic
• Find proper home for beautifully framed art, especially "Stormo Serale" by Natale Addamiano
• Empty my filing cabinet of what I am sure are useless papers and then
• Get rid of my filing cabinet, couch, and other furniture
• Go home for Thanksgiving
• Buy Christmas presents
• Keep working and making money
• Convince Sarah (and me, for that matter) that everything is still going to be amazing, even if we aren't living together
• Drink Americanos
• Pack
• Turn 28 years old... or young... or just right
• Say goodbye or, rather, see you later

One can imagine, perhaps, why I have not been moving quickly on all these matters? And one can imagine that this list is not complete. What am I doing with my life? I cannot say for certain and I suppose that is why I am leaving. Winter is on its way, and everything will change with this season. Don't fall yet, leaves! Cling to your branch just a little longer and let me get in one more cup of coffee.

What matters (other than Twitter, naturally) occupy my extremely valuable time?

DREW DOPE! I put together a fun little website called POPE FACT. If you don't get it, don't worry—the website is an online version of a real-life game involving writing fake tattoos on people's knuckles. The launch fell on, and was in honor of, the birthday of Molly Hallweaver, one of the ladies who first introduced me to POPE FACT at Lake Tahoe.

I designed and launched a new version of the Lei-Out Beach Ultimate website. Joaq said it is the prettiest version to date, so that's worth something. Chalk up one win for gorgeous photographs found via Creative Commons search on Flickr. And, of course, the new Lei-Out website is running on my most favorite CMS to date, Drupal.

I have begun maintaining my Drupal installations on Github, with repositories for Drupal 6 core and Drupal 6 optional modules and themes. Now, when I need to do an update on my dozens of Drupal websites, I install the updates on my master, commit and push from there, and then pull the changes down on all the rest of the sites. Commit, push, and pull! So easy!

Whit hit it big, where "it" is defined as The Internet, this month with his video, "Drunkest Guy Ever: Larry Goes to the Market." Have a look at the video then go read his blog post, What! No Beer?, describing his creative process and the video's success, currently sitting at 716,000+ views on Youtube. Did I mention that he got linked on Huffington Post and BoingBoing? Yeah, seriously, I know: I need to redesign Whit's blog so that its features and appearance are consummate with his success.

Whit and I are trying, in a nutshell, to figure out how to promote efficiently and effectively our friends. Clearly, this goal cannot be accomplished simply by telling someone to get on Twitter. Expect more on this subject from us over the next year. For now, ON A COMPLETELY UNRELATED NOTE, you should go watch our friend Brittney's video application to The Big Trip.

Oh, and I dressed up as Zombie Abraham Lincoln for Halloween. Naturally.

EDIT
Oh, and I forgot to mention another website I launched this autumn, Nicole d'Avis at Bellalogica. This beautiful site is for my beautiful sister—a place for her to write and just be amazing, not that she needs a specific place for that. Did I mention that she got married to a wonderful man, Mark, and that they bought a house? It's good to have a big sister who is super good at life.

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This story is impossible to write perfectly.

This story is a smell and a feeling and a smile and three years and a half years of big life changes and rain. Seattle has treated me well and for that I am thankful. I have experienced such fantastic joy and friendship and love and growth and food and coffee here.

But I have been sad in Seattle as well and often a bit lost. I could simply continue my life here, and such would not be disagreeable, but I would do so lacking faith and ease in the direction of my life. If you have spoken to me in the last year, you know this feeling of mine and you are familiar with my uncertainty.

I awoke this morning in a cave created by my soft, cozy bed and my cold room and the growing rain and dark outside of Seattle autumn. I knew, upon waking, that I would be purchasing a one-way plane ticket from Boston, Massachusetts to Liberia, Guanacaste, Costa Rica for January 4th, 2010. One-way, in that I am not returning to Seattle following my month working and surfing in sunny Tamarindo. I am leaving Seattle on December 22nd, eight weeks from tomorrow. This is real.

Yes, I know that is really super soon and I know that you will miss me. I will miss you, too.

The beach, and the waves, and all of Latin America beckon and what can I do? If not now, when?

I will continue from Tamarindo to Bolivia and I will live there. I will live in the country where my father, Federico Antonio d'Avis, was born and I will connect with my family there and I will find the street in Cochabamba that shares my name and that of mi abuelo, Doctor Carlos Andrés d'Avis. I will live in Chile and I will live in Argentina. I will eat salteñas. I will climb Machu Picchu, as I have dreamed of doing since I learned of its existence over two decades ago.

I will remember what it is to feel challenged in the minutiae of my daily life and I will remember how to speak Spanish well and I will find time alone in my head. I will think about where I live and where I have lived and how I want to live the rest of my life. I will think about how to find love and whether that is actually defined as someone to have babies with in the next ten years. And I will, of course, be updating Twitter and continuing work as a web developer. Honest, I asked my clients! They said I could!

And I will return... probably. I mean: totally. Yes, I will totally be back to the United States in June. I cannot promise where I will live when I return. I don't even have a flight out of Costa Rica yet so, please, be patient. I love you, and all the Malbec in Mendoza couldn't change that.

I stood in the shower this morning and thought of my purple and white striped tie that I wore to Matt May's wedding and then out again this Saturday night. Did I spill a bit of drink on it at Aaron's birthday party? Does it need to be dry-cleaned?

And the dream rushed back to me.

You were wearing a purple dress and I was worried that the aforementioned tie did not match quite well enough. I was late, still not showered, having just returned from exploring the flooded ruins of a tropical hotel, crumbling into the ocean. I had tried to leap from one jut of stone to another but barely missed, slipping into the shallow water and surrendering the integrity of my pocketed cell phone to briny dysfunction.

You were wearing a purple dress and we were at a wedding and the whole wedding party was waiting outside my door with fifteen minutes to go. Fifteen minutes. I needed to shower, and dress, and knot my purple tie, still uncertain if it matched.

I had stepped out into a courtyard with now purposeless stone pillars all about me and encountered another family exploring those same ruins. And I had realized that it was not my first time to this hotel. I had recounted to the parents and tow-headed children my prior visit, and warned them of the leopards I encountered stalking amongst the once grand lobby and patios and suites. Be careful, I had told them. I would have shepherded and toured them safely through the ruins but I had been late.

I had rushed back to the wedding and into you with your purple dress. My pants were still sodden from my exploration and I needed to shower. I stepped into my room and I was lost. What was I doing and where was I? I had been here before, in another dream, and seen leopards in ruins, but I did not even know whose wedding I was attending.

And you were wearing a purple dress, and did my tie match?

I ate four apple cider doughnuts on an achingly autumn afternoon with my father Federico and my mother Melanie and my sister Nicole and my brother-in-law Mark. Not pictured above are the wedding I attended the day before in Gloucester for Amy and Don or the striking colors of my first return to October in Massachusetts since 1999.

I took a Tuesday lunch at home as a challenge and constructed my finest sandwich in recent memory. Highlights include the first bite, the second bite, the last bite, and all those other scrumptious bits between.

I revisited fully, every page and word, the Lord of the Rings for the first time since having seen the movie, as evidenced by a particular Saturday afternoon at Volunteer Park Cafe. In the books, the women receive less attention and the men are all more obviously in love with each other, though less annoyingly so. I'm not sure Sauron has ever had Côtes du Rhône wine or bacon-chevre-chanterelle quiche, but maybe if he had he wouldn't have been such a jerkface.