Alarm went off at 4 as I wanted, but right back to pillows the writer fell.  Then, pulled from rest by sounds of Jack and Addy conversing and laughing, speaking in their squeaks, and everything.

Just went up, told them to play and talk quietly.  Any hope of them falling back asleep is a dissolved optimism cloud.  So I write on, like I did yesterday and last night with my wine.  Not even one of those cloaked fortunes, Addy spending the night here and waking me early, but a directly tangible boon for my writing day.

Later, up to Dry Creek winery, the valley itself, write and capture content, but above everything WRITE.  This first coffee I brewed for myself lacks something, or maybe I’m still just every bit as tired as I don’t want to be.  If Jackie weren’t talking right now to her, would I be writing differently?  Why am I focusing on them so much?  It certainly registers with me, how careless they are with their volumes, and how easily they execute enjoyment in whatever they do.  I try to be like them, I try, but age makes it arduous, confrontational in attempts like the moment’s fighting back, or something.

Should grade papers today, a handful at least, get somewhat “ahead” or make progress, some forward steps…  Going up to check on Alice, Ms. Emma…..

All’s well but I have to laugh after going into Jackie’s room and finding he on his bed and Addy on the lower trundle/pullout mattress, and a long piece of floss, them both flossing their teeth together…  “We have to floss, ‘cause.. ‘cause… there’s dinner in there, in our teeth.” Addy said.  I put the floss on the counter of the Jack&Jill bathroom which adjoins J & Em’s rooms, check on Alice and Em again, and all well.  Back to my coffee and centering in this home office, surrounded by these books and authors I follow and study, work on with my students and further educate this aging self.  Feel like I’m still learning, in my own school, giving myself the grade, determining pass/fail.  And isn’t that true?

Have to dig into the Carpe journal, pull some of those little scattered pieces for the Mise issues—  And there it is, that promise I’ve felt these past few days and with the invitation to the Dry Creek winery.. I’ll bring the Carpe with me today, and that’s it.. write singular words, short expressions like yesterday behind the bar, tasting the Pinot then the Syrah then that GSM blend, then the other Pinot (single vineyard).  There’s a sense in this morning, this belle matinée, urging me and pushing me closer to the travel I’ve for years wanted; see now, back to Paris, to New York several times (frequently even, to meet with magazines and publishers, to speak at colleges and bookstores), then to Florida and Texas, Louisiana to give wine talks and head writer’s groups.  Ce matin, aide (this morning is helping), which I didn’t initially see being taunted upstairs like a warden or some corrections officer walking the halls with dangling jingling keys.  But, now, tout est bien.

(2/27/16)