from wine book

Home after busy day at new winery.  And, just snacking.  Slowly sipping a beer, no music or TV, just the strangely calming sounds, and hiss and hum, of the dishwasher.  May have a friend over later, and may not.  I’m fine with either outcome.  I need this, this quiet of the house.  Still have to edit the piece I wrote last night on the two wines.  Haven’t re-visited the Rhône blend.  Nearly afraid to, if you must know.  Not sure how confident I am that that funk or whatever brett-y plume has dissipated.  I need a minute.  I just need to enjoy this quiet. It’s funny when something so simple and to others so annoying, a dishwasher running, can be wholly soothing.

Two days from 38, now.  Less than, actually.  Don’t feel older at all.  If anything, I feel younger than I ever have.  Running 8 miles one day then two days later upping it to 9.5 or whatever I did, and just never displaying drain, or depletion of vigor.  Going to cue decaf for later.  Planning on not sipping as late as I did last night.  Didn’t have too much, just had my final pour at too late an hour.  What if I take it easy tonight and just wake insanely early.  Idea, if nothing else.  And I need ideas tonight.  I want to be drunker than drunk on thought.  So tonight, just know, reader… wine intake is more than moderated.