Day in the Room,

and here at home with the Pinots, I’m perplexed and not in some obtusely obstructing img_8907way.  On couch, thinking of harvest, and how quiet it was on the crushpad—  Is that one word or two?  Anyway, concepts of unknown freedom enter my inner-echoes, returning to Sunriver or the San Juan Islands, on a boat listening to Sade, looking out at the near shores and fog cover just over my head seemingly so close I could touch.

After a day in the tasting room, I have no intention of being withheld or obstructed in my expression.  Guests that come in, some, have NO hesitation asking for what they want— and I know some may be reading this and thinking, “He shouldn’t be saying that…” Well, I am.  And not out of malice, not at all.  No…. I’m relating the reality of the wine industry… I’ve seen it so many times, people quitting their jobs to work in the wine world, and seeing the tangibility and how it’s not always dulce.  Just truth, and a truth so many entering the industry don’t want to hear— they want wine, they want to sip on the job and not have to do anything like arrange tax-paid cages and do inventory, dry glasses and arrange chairs, host big groups that show just before you’re about to close but you know you have to ‘cause you’re the whatever person there and…

Need another glass, or don’t, before bed.  The Room, the tasting area, people walking in and asking, “So, how does this work?” That, never getting old.  And how many tasting rooms have I worked at?  Too many to count, which is embarrassing but loudly commonplace in “the industry”, so now I figure I have nothing to lose so I write about it without reluctance or inhibition, and think more of the pours and what people say and how foolish it truly all is, but how lovely it plays when I it replay in my framed vino brain…

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