So that’s a victory, I guess.  Eating cheese and crackers I brought to work, at my desk.  Will spend my 30 minutes walking the vineyard, taking pictures.  If I would have gone to lunch with Collyn, I would have dropped at least $8 on something, a burrito, or sandwich at Dry Creek General, or something from that Thai place.  But I stood firm, no dollars dropped.

What am I looking for in the vineyard?  What kind of pictures do I want to pocket?  Don’t know.  Don’t want to plan, don’t want to promise self or readers anything.  Just walked in from a quick visit to the tasting room, where I sipped the ’14 Syrah from the property.  It’s certain, I have to one day have my own label.  Something small, 5,000 cases or less.  No distribution to stores, only some local and out-of-state restaurants.  So what am I looking for out in those Rhone blocks?  Some ideas for my winery, which I want to take shape in the next couple years.  Have my sister as a consultant, maybe, if she can.

These crackers, the string cheese, definitely embody a certain financial and economic triumph for the writer.  Taking $10 from my pocket, what I would have spent had I gone out, probably more had we gone to the Thai place, and placing it in a part of my wallet I designate for business cash.  Need to have this stash far away from the writer, maybe at Mom and Dad’s house.  Somewhere in my own home, maybe, where I’ll be sure to never touch it.  Maybe even indefinitely forget about it.  Ugh, ‘maybe maybe maybe’…  Just bloody do it, already!  Out of sight, but not forever out of mind, right?  There I go seeking validation again.

Taking another handful of crackers into my mouth, looking out the window, the glass of that door at my 12, seeing where I’ll walk but not what I’ll think.  The vineyard will tell me that.