Shop Clock


Typing standing up.  Home with a sick little Emma, till 11 when her grandmother picks her up.  Wife’s mom.  I’m to be with her now… poor little belle.  With a cold, nothing serious, but I hate seeing her uncomfortable.  I need to be strong for her as I’m sure a galaxy of dads have written before me.

Drinking coffee from yesterday.  Cold and calming.  Thinking about freedom, free in business and other facets, after the talk yesterday with co-workers… dreams, dreaming… the wine world and industry is made of such, and I seek to set up a conglomeration of businesses that will be there for my babies, should they want to merge with family business efforts.  Looking at her little face and watching her lift the bottle of ice water I prepped for her punctuates everything.

Imagine myself in the shop, standing up.  Then I feel too far from her and I sit on the couch and watch cartoons with her while jotting my pulses, my visions of business for self…. My family, my kids should they choose, or if some tyrannical “manager” or other upper-whatever let them go, the business will be there for them.  That, if anything, is wine.  What the wine industry should be.  This blog, IS the shop, I just typed in the 365-day log.  Today, Day 60.  305 left in hourglass for my office and shop, seeing people come in to get what wine they need.  And, after Aunt Terri’s glass used for the first time last night with the ’13 Roth Cab, I’d like very specific glasses on the shelves.  Friend of a friend works for a glass company, and showed me once everything in her portfolio and catalogue.  Not sure I’d use her company but glasses and the multitudinous molds and shapes they can take contributes, as of last night, to my store peregrination, motivation.

Daughter sits closer to me and asks that I move closer and put arm around her, comfort her and make her yuckies go away.  “Hi Dada… HI DADA!” She repeats, I lean in closer and kiss the top of her head, wipe her nose, and ask her what she thinks of the cartoon, that certifiable Cat in the Hat.  She points at the screen and says something, then “Hiiiiii….” Then starts singing.  I kiss her again and return to keys.. more than merely motivated.  I’m wildly and madly animated.

Emma leaves the couch to play a board game.  “Trouble” I’m pretty sure it’s called.  She pretends she plays an actually in-motion game, “I like this…” I think she just said.  As she grows in her abilities I the same actuate with my visions of the business, the babies working next to me, as much as they want.  Old pictures remind me how far into the wined story of mine I am and now, this new year, this new semester, is the the appropriate engine to celebrate, accelerate.  Less than a year till I clock in for first shift… when I open the doors in A.M., inaugural day.


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