I was in the mood, I was curious, I know what I wanted and the bottle was opened.  Just took first sip.  This month, I finish the re-write.  The re-organization of certain story attributes.  The wine agrees.  She tells her truths in rhythmic and rhymed roads, and I follow, wanting to taste more wines… project, now, build cellar.  Write about every wine I taste, even if I’ve tasted it a thousand or so times like the Roth offerings.  After tonight’s dinner with family, only sipping that Sbragia SB I know I need to taste more, more wines.. tomorrow with wife in Healdsburg, the J Winery in whatever town that is… I’ll buy pragmatically.  One bottle for cellar, one for immediate, or proximal greeting.

House quiet, babies asleep, perfect for this bottle.  Not sure why I felt guilty opening her, but I don’t any longer.  With the visuals of travel in my sights, more necessitations of exploration deconstruction of certain oeno-universes mandate themselves on page.  I look right at glass, swirl a coulee times, not too forcefully, and wonder what the wine says, thinks of me, wants to say, would have been in five or ten years later had I not.