Day 4, 7/29/17. 

Very much a working lunch.  Brought self a sandwich from home.  Busy day so far at winery.  One tour, around property then wine and charcuterie.  Sold six bottles, no tip, I say to myself “Whatever.”, but I can’t expect tips.  That can affect mood.  I go on with day making notes of things around the property and how the wines are tasting.  Again my favorite the Cabernet.  Taking a bite of my sandwich here in cubicle-ville my mind wanders, everywhere, to wine and running, my kids getting older and me getting older, how I won’t be this forever—this mobile and agile…. I won’t be this, forever.

The quiet in this office, all the way on the other side of the building, is addictive.  Wind sounds, right, from window.  Will go for another walk around property after the day closes.  This morning getting here early and taking pictures of the ripening, slowly ripening, Cabernet.  One day, I thought up there, just before 09:00… my Carmel home, my vineyard, winery.  “All it takes is money.” As Dad and I have forever joked.  But it’s actually not humor.  It’s truth.  All I need is more diversity in my business practices and be quicker, and more wildly creative.  This office is my new writing spot, for this property.  Every lunch need be spent here.  Save photog’ and vlogging, blogging, for before and after hours.  Finish this book, sell.  Finish the chapbooks, sell.

It is a working lunch, but more a creative sitting.  A thoughtful break.  My 30 minutes devoted to deconstruction of Self and that Self’s momentum and direction.  This new role at Roth will be my sole projects for the foreseeable onward.  Over 19 minutes left in this working whatever.  I look up at the cubicles.  I see the one they designated as mine, at my 2 [o’clock direction].  I quite like it as it’s not a cube.  Coming up here, though, I can’t help but think of my days at ‘the box’.  Working in that office in downtown Napa, calling down lists and hoping some club member buys.  Was a very interesting intersection in my story, there.  Right before little Kerouac was born, and at a precipice entailing both unique ambition and vision, coupled avec uncertainty.  Very interesting.  And here I am, over 5 years later in less an exploratory mode but just as intense.  It’s contraction and containment, which itself is a contradiction.

Thought this morning about teaching, while interviewing a close friend for a part-time placement here (actually, someone else did the interviewing, I was merely present and there to be her fervent advocate).  She, a pre-school teaching professes and fearlessly vocalizes her passion for instruction of those little ones.  And it’s not just vocalization.  She visually embodies the teacher.  You hear her narrative and dialogue and you feel the actuation of teaching.  Hope my students feel such from me.  Week approaching, 7 of 8 in Summer seminar.  I want to put more into my teaching practice.  But how.  What.  What’s the first motion?  Use what I have in front of me, I say to myself.  Vineyards.  Life.  Ripening.  More life.  Visuals.  My ideas couple and compound and I start my jots, feverishly and tirelessly like that wind sneaking through the window to my right.

Done with sandwich.  Still hungry.  Think there’re snacks in kitchen.  A tasting room is like a class, at least for me.  Learning about myself and people and how I interact with people, like the couple earlier I was sure would leave some tip…  Shape and flavor and stare of Newness.