She hated Chardonnay.  But she sipped anyway, the bottle staff was “gifted” for their performance today.  They beat their goal, for barrel tasting day.  The first of two.  She finished one glass.  Another.  Three.  Then just thought, wrote some ideas of how she wanted her winery–tasting room–to look.  She never took an architecture or drafting class.  but she tried anyway.  Two bars, small room.  No “VIP” or ‘Reserve’ room.  That was insane to her.  And…  She wouldn’t have a wine club.  Yes, most labels did.  But that’s exactly why she wouldn’t.

4.  She listened to her music, a playlist she put together about a year ago, when she had her first thought of wine that was hers.  Not really making it, but just having something that she could tie to her name.  At that time, she even thought of saving money, hiring a winemaker, navigating a label.  But she knew she wanted to make wine, do all the trials, tastings, “additions”.  But how?  Where would she start?  Her rationale, rationing of everything, began to fog.  The rhythm went a wander. But she didn’t care.  Not after today.  All the tasters, just wanting to taste more.  “Is this what they dealt with?” she wrote.  “Reservations only,” she mandated.  But how would she create.. “buzz”?  She hated that word, but how would she?  Another sip.  Larger, this intake.. the last glass was bold in pour, so the glass could afford.


No more.  She set the empty glass in the sink, opened one of the flavored sparkling waters from the fridge.  The idea was to wake early tomorrow, before having to be in that tasting room.  Again, she thought, she’d have to pour.  What were they doing?  Moving her down there?  Permanently?


Did she have any more of that Chard, for another night?  Maybe she’d make a one this year.  All the rains lately, the heat.. there’d be plenty of fruit, she thought.  There’d have to be.  It’d have to be this year.  Her wine would be on someone’s table soon.  She’d be sipping at one of those two bars.  Someday.  Soon.  With somebody.