You Can Kiss My _____!

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So goodbye yellow brick road

Where the dogs of society howl

You can't plant me in your penthouse

I'm going back to my plough.

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Thanks Sir Elton...I've always liked those lyrics, particularly the penthouse and plow imagery. I've been in two penthouses in my life, both in Manhattan. One of the penthouses, on the Upper East Side, was owned by a Jewish couple who also had houses in Pennsylvania and Montreal.

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The other penthouse was the urban weekend retreat of a couple who own a rather successful natural bath and body products company called Kiss My Face. You can read their story by clicking here. Their story is one of my all-time favourite business start-up tales, because it's a story that's encouraging to virtually anyone who ever thought of going into business.

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In a nutshell, these two guys follow the yellow brick road to Manhattan, find it too expensive, move to the countryside, sell soap and zucchinis, become successful, and buy a penthouse in Manhattan. So it's a bit of a twist on Elton's return to the plough, but you get my point, I hope.

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When my wife, Wendy, made her debut at the Metropolitan Opera in 1996 there was quite a fluttering of excitement here in Nouveau Brunswick. A curious slice of cultural co-minglers, from warblers to billionaires, were interested enough to make the journey to one of the world's most hallowed operatic halls. A bus tour was arranged and filled with fiddlehead pickers who were eager to hear Wendy sing at the Met. Wendy's mother was on the bus and ended up meeting some other gals who were making the trek. To make a long story short, Wendy's mom ended up staying in a penthouse on the Upper West Side, owned by the son of one of the operatic pilgrims. You guessed it...it was the Kiss My Face penthouse where she parked her buns.

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Wendy and I went to visit her mom in the penthouse. Two things are indelibly etched into my mind:

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1) Penthouse seemed an apt name for such a lofty bird cage, because I felt pent up by the experience. With no lawn or the ability to amble down to the lake, I felt constrained. The terrace was spacious and offered a pleasing view, but I've never been one to get excited by ogling other buildings and their rooftop water cisterns.

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2) It was hilarious to see this gaggle of older hens cooped up in such a trendy abode full of homo-erotic art. I had trouble imagining them waking up in the morning, their first mental image being some poser's tripodal likeness.

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Sausages for breakfast, anyone?

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I feel like I've been spending too much time in my personal penthouse, so I'm going back to my plough. Well, it's not exactly my plough. I volunteered to help my friends David and Sonia in their vineyard. So far I haven't touched a plough, or seen the tractor for that matter. I've been helping to remove grape vine suckers and weeds from the rows upon rows of grapes. It's tedious labour, but it's a project that is well worth it.

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It's exciting to think that there's a vineyard in Cambridge-Narrows that's making really great wine. Mott's Landing Vineyard (MLV) is doing just that. I shared a bottle of one of their 2008 reds with Wendy and a Bostonian amigo last evening, and it met with rave reviews. It's more than just us who appreciate what they're doing with their grapes. Craig Pinhey, New Brunswick's tasting note worthy sommelier, is also quite chuffed with what's being uncorked in Queens County. He recently penned a newsy article about MLV and you can read about it here.

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And now it's time for this little Dorothy to head down the yellow brick road to plant his hands in the vineyard. I'm going back to my plough, and it feels great!