Quick lunch.

About 30 minutes. Decided not to bring backpack and laptop. Just work on phone. 3shot latte and breakfast sandwich. Driving back to Santa Rosa after this… wine and dinner with parents tonight, and I wonder what to open. Don’t do the St. Francis Chardonnay and Claret, I tell myself. Get something new. Like some odd white and then a …. what. Pinot. Or some new Zin.

Wine and my wine bar, shop, MY business and industry translation in sight, on mind and in every song I hear. Not sure this sandwich will be enough but I don’t need to eat that horribly, today. Or really ever. I’d rather write. I’d rather get closer to the beach, my travels, sipping a glass of anything in the Alps.

Write only wine. The two I had a couple days ago at Steele & Hops, Chardonnay and that Grenache. Maybe Grenache for tonight, not Zin.

Looking around this Starbucks on Solano, in Albany, and wondering what it would feel like if this were a wine spot. People reading newspapers and typing and working on whatever on their laptops. What would wine do to this space? I can see it. Writing the movements and conversations, full glasses in head.

No, Syrah tonight. Something about it, about her, sounds more for my story, what I’m doing now with my sentences and thought from and for wine.

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