inward jot

Only have a few minutes to type.  Going to Jack’s pre-school graduation.  My son, graduating pre-K… how.  Why.  Another confirmation and affirmation of my age.  Only have a little time to write.  And I mean very little.  Like… 10 minutes.  Not worried and not stressed as that’s what it is.. that’s the time allotted the writer.  Didn’t photograph the vineyards as I would have liked, and just now am I sitting to write.  Not sure what the wine writer’s feeling… could be frustration, could be sadness that my kids just grow and I’m just left to woe.  Could be the fact that STILL, I have not a book finished.  Focusing on wine like I never have before and the wine reminds me to focus on life, everything around me especially the babies and where we are.  See myself in my dream house, the dream home for my family, in Carmel— Jack and Emma and their friends playing on the beach and me chasing them carrying a notebook, writing about the tasting I did out-of-state just a couple nights before.

Took a couple sips of the ’14 Roth Merlot to calm a writer’s writing nerves.  Not sure if it’s helping or hindering, bringing me to some odd octave of homeostasis but I’m typing with a good momentum so I won’t rise to put anything else in that glass—  “Like Someone In Love”, John Coltrane, reminding me of why I’m in love with wine and all its type, how it makes me scribble and type, think about the future and present and moments in the past where I wasn’t as in love with wine or maybe not even that interested at all, like in college.  Manuscript, this studio, fete of one, all about what I sip and the Pinot last night, bottle over there by the sink, still singing to me in all its Wonderland oddity, its illusionary facets and colors and songs, rewinding and reminding me of why I love wine, why I need to follow through with it as my sister-in-law so many years ago counseled me.  I rememberer resenting her for the advice to write about wine, start a blog.  And now look at me…. So, I go back to that table, what was it… ’09?  Thanksgiving, right?  At my in-laws’ Monterey home.  Yes.  Grand idea, lit wick… me, wine.  Like the Plath entries I read through last night I read through the wine’s profile, the Merlot, then the Pinot…. 16:18, should get in shower soon.  But I have to finish my thought… work faster.  Jack’s graduation today reminds me I need to hurry and be galactic in my wild wine writings and notations—  Going to sip the Pinot, a tasting room pour…. Three minutes over budget.  The Pinot now actuating more confidence and piano rift-like tonality with all its dimension, direction.  She reminds me why I do such inward jottings, why wine speaks to me as it does and why she tells me to keep writing about her.

Think I might one day actually graduate.

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