Happy Beaujolais Nouveau!

Right now, on the third Thursday of November, people everywhere are celebrating the release of Beaujolais Nouveau!

Beaujolais Nouveau is an old fashioned, French peasant wine that is derived from an early, unfermented harvest. Why do I care on my Trails West website, you ask?

Well, because D.C., makes a big ordeal out of this event. French restaurants everywhere in town get their shipment of Beaujolais early, even though French law states Beaujolais must not be uncorked until at least midnight of the third Thursday of November.

Each year, I bring a group of no less than 15 to Bistro du Coin (Quwah) in Dupont Circle, D.C. We eat French food at the late seating, mill around for an hour or so, and then party it up for the Beaujolais release at midnight. Inevitably, the mayor of D.C., always kicks off the city's Beaujolais events at our lil' bistro. After he uncorks the first bottle a disco ball drops down, a French DJ starts up, and the bar starts passing out free bottles of Beaujolais for the "peasants" to enjoy.

And boy do we. This year, the lady that takes reservations for the Bistro actually emailed me to let me know her plans for this year. I, shamefully, forgot tonight was the big night until a friend emailed me lamenting my absence at the Bistro this year.

Reminded, I was on a mission: I called two French restaurants in Ft. Collins, Colo., and three liquour stores in Cheyenne to find out if there were any Beaujolais events anywhere. The answer being "no" I decided to put together my own impromptu Beaujolais Nouveau event.

It was rather ghetto in comparison to the pre-drinks at the Russia House and the fancy- schmancy French food we'd get at the Bistro.

I did the best I could: I bought a cheap bottle of French red without even reading the label, made French toast bites, and cut a loaf of French baguette into slices for bread and butter.

Ghetto.

But it was something. I celebrated Beaujolais, darn it. And still am - seeing as how it's only half past uncorking time in good ol' Wyo.

Beaujolais c'est arrive!

Annie, my coworker, and her husband Don who I knew in college helped me celebrate. Yes, I know my walls are bare:


French toast for my guests:



What I finally resorted to buying as a cheap French red:

Halloween Weekend

Since our Halloween party was actually the night after, Friday night was pretty tame for me.

A friend and I went to the Cloud 9 Lounge at the Cheyenne airport for a beer before a riveting night of grocery shopping and chick flicks.

The lounge was great! It's totally divy, but has a great view of the runway.

Things picked up a bit on Saturday night with our party. I love Halloween and love going all out for a costume. It paid off this year because I won best costume at the party!

I went as a newsflash...


The trophy is a skeleton holding its head...

It's the Most Wonderful Time of the Year!

Last night was one of my most favorite times of the year: the High Heel Races in D.C.

Every year during the week of Halloween, one of the biggest gatherings of people and drag queens you might ever see gathers just one block from my old apartment.

Thousands - THOUSANDS - of people turn out to watch drag queens parade up and down the street then sprint two blocks in their highest of high heels.

It is trashy, crude, and not exactly PG. Man, it's great!

This isn't an event you just meander into either. It takes planning and coordination. The timing on everything has to be just right or you'll find yourself 10 people deep and not able to see a thing.

There is always pre-drinks, then staking out a piece of curb on the main, ahem, "drag."

Then, after the awe and excitement is over, there's the wandering around to gawk at costumes and snap pictures with your favorite drag dressers. Mine is always the super fancy group that picks a new theme each year and does something over the top elaborate - like Metro stops, or board games, or types of candy. Spectacular!

The closest thing I have here are the saloon girls that walk around town...


Here's a short little video to give you a taste of the night:



And some pics from last year's event:

The fancy group as board games...


And again...


Hmmm...


The Spice Girls!


Mrs.(?) Clause...


I had to have my picture with these gals because I also own this exact costume! My make-up generally looks a lot better, however...

Random Pic

So random.

On the bar door of the Cowboy in Laramie.

I guess I should do as the sign says and ask the bartender about "what this means."

Dance Fever Danger

WARNING: Engaging in country swing may be dangerous to limbs and face.

* * * *

I've been country dancing for a long time. I love it. It's fun, it's crazy to watch, and it's a good, clean Western way to pass the time.

Beware, however: All that swinging, flipping, twirling and dipping certainly qualifies country dance as a full-contact sport.

Over the years I've been dropped, smacked, scraped, poked, and accidentally grabbed in places this type of dance doesn't really intend. Given the nature of the dance, I don't think these things are out of the ordinary for anyone who's ever tried it.

Getting a shiner, however, might be. After a pretzeling incident dancing at the Cowboy in Laramie last night, a black eye is exactly what I can now add to my list of country swing boo boos.

Some of you probably believe me because you know how much I like to swing. Others are likely thinking, "Sure, Kim. Way to cover for the bar room brawl you've had comin'." And since both of these are plausible, I'm sure there's a good-sized camp who don't know what to think.

I am thinking it's pretty darn funny. And kind of like a hard-core badge of country swing pride.

That said, I still might wear goggles - and not the beer kind - the next time I hit the floor.

Homecoming

Last weekend was UW's Homecoming, an event I haven't been to since leaving for D.C.

It was pretty tame - ok, nearly sedated - compared to my last one, but that was just fine. I still had a lot of fun and got to see some folks I hadn't seen in a long time, which is what Homecoming is mostly about now, I think.

I didn't go to the game or the parade, or really any formalized Homecoming events. But I did go country dancing, which is oddly something I haven't done since moving back West. I country danced more on the East Coast than out here. What's up with that?

So, since this is the most active thing I did all weekend that's what I'll share. Once Cindy downloads her photos I'll likely have some more to post. But until then:

Ah...The Cowboy. I really don't think I need to say anything more...


Me country swingin' with Cins. Where am I you ask? I'm that little patch of blue being strangled by a mess of hair...

Done swingin' with Cins and all grins because of it (and because I can breathe again after the attempted strangulation)...

Me and my girls in da' club...

There is one last photo I would LOVE to make my Friday Fave, but without naming names...the girl who shares a name with a month and who is standing next to me not in red wouldn't sign a photo release, so to speak. I'll work on her.

Steppin' Out

I went out on the town for the first time in Cheyenne last night.

Some coworkers and I decided to head to a local watering hole for a couple drinks and chose...

A place with karaoke!!

That's right! (Nobody's surprised? Huh.)

Turns out, Old Chicago has karaoke every Thursday, and I certainly intend to do some damage there.

I also intend to keep up appearances, so to speak. As we all can guess, going out in Cheyenne means something a little different than in D.C. Gold dresses and high, high heels in this town aren't common. But I wasn't going to let that stop me. After spending the last week unpacking and hanging - and sighing - over all of my glittery go-out wear I forewarned my colleagues they shouldn't be surprised/embarrassed if I arrive in head-to-sparkle.

I chose my sparkliest of shirts and one of my pairs of high silver heels and headed for the door.

Even my hot pink lip gloss had sparkles in it.

My poor little gold, and silver, and sequined outfits shouldn't have to just hang forlornly in my closet.

And when a girl's on stage she's got to look the part, right?

Saloon-less Cowgirl

I had to get all cowgirled out tonight for another Cheyenne Frontier Days activity - getting my press credentials. Pretty much everything I do for the next two weeks is going to require me being "cowgirled" out.

After a couple beers at the BB-Q my team decided they were all going to leave. I didn't want to be stuck there with nobody to talk to, so I packed it up as well. What I really wanted though, was to go out. The problem was, I didn't know where to go - and to a lesser extent had nobody to go with. Essentially, I was a cowgirl all dressed up with no saloon to go to.

I decided to drive downtown and check out a place I'd seen called the Cheyenne Club. I got myself parked and was about to get out of the car when I noticed a "For Lease" sign in the window.

Drat.

By this time I was starting to feel sorry for myself. In D.C. I could call up any number of folks who would go for a drink at a drop of a cowboy hat. But I'm too new here for that.

I checked out a couple divy places as I drove along and decided on DT's, which boasted an outdoor patio. I pulled in, walked past a couple toothless drunks on the steps outside, and settled in to the perfect divy bar, complete with a sad country song playing on the sound system.

I ordered a Jack and diet and was promptly told by the bartender it was a cash only bar, the last of which I had given to the CFD Public Relations Committee for my credentials.

Crap. What's a cowgirl gotta do to get a Jack and diet around here?

I walked past the same toothless drunks to my car.

As I pulled around the corner, gazing at the dancing pink elephant above the bar, I noticed the sign... KARAOKE?!?! I have been searching for a karaoke spot in Cheyenne!!

The trip wasn't for nothin' after all!

Feeling much better, I made my way to the lounge at The Plains Hotel where I have been unabashedly logging on to the Internet.

And here I sit.

With a double Jack and diet.