No motivation to write, do anything, but sip the last of the Boekenoogen Cab I opened last night.  Was asked today if all I do was write.  And I answered, “Yes.  That’s who I am and what I am, a writer.”

Went to industry event, an open-house I guess you could call it, after work with the Dutcher people, to Comstock Winery.  Couldn’t stop looking at how the property was arranged, how the tasting stations were set up, the wines poured (only tasted 3, an SB, Pinot and Zin).  Wrote in Carpe: “Falling back in love with wine.”