A glass of Sauv Blanc, and class tomorrow. Feel the wine catching me, but I ignore its advance and focus on a picture I took a couple years ago. Wine reminds me of time, as I’ve so many other times written. Dropped off wine and Mom and Dad’s earlier today, and while cruising up 12 and onto Skyhawk, I remember when Mom told us that she took a part-time/on-call gig at a winery. St. Francis. What started it all. Also thought how at the end of last semester I went to SF, to be in a “happy place”, as I told Karen behind the bar. I needed to be there, I told her. I needed peace. I needed the sight of the mountains and to be on that patio where I interviewed late Chris Silva.
The moment. The Now. That’s what wine reminds me of. Yes, time passes me with indiscriminate venomosity, but I can only do what I do. Look at this photo, sip my SB, and do what I can with the remaining day-hours. My mood falleth, hits a hard ground. I’m getting old, and there’s nothing I can do, but let wine make more peace from this time piece that I hold.