Run at lunch. On phones all day. Just a minute ago booked my first appointment. In final 15 minutes of day. Desk, a thin scatter of ruin. Papers and notes, papers with crazy whirlwind’d notes. Teaching self to not think about it. Let the day end, drive up to parents house for a bit to check on it, maybe have a beer, and go home. Need to write at some point tonight, and wake early for more prose in the morning. I just yesterday cemented a conviction. My winery. Or label. Have to have one. But I need capital. Don’t want to be a slave to some investor tribe in some shiny highrise thinking they know what goes into wine and winemaking and speaking your winery’s narrative.
Bought a Rose from Medlock last night. Totally shouldn’t have. Wasn’t expensive, but I did break my budget promise. Either way, one of the best Rose offerings I’ve had in a while. Maybe one on my eventual menu, pouring it out of tank like that footage someone texted me, of my sister speaking to some VIP group touring the crush pad/production facility.
Could use a Chardonnay. Nothing red. Luckily when I went for my lunch run it wasn’t too hot, but after just taking a break and walking to my car the sun let its force and fierce fire known. So, yeah, no red. Last night at the Medlock event the guy behind the counter told me someone just ordered a full glass of Cab. And it was BLAZIING in AV yesterday. Not sure how anyone does that. And it’s their proclivity, but not mine. Not me.
Tired from that run, every so often and now more frequently stretching, yawning. Was on a conference call earlier and I had to mute the phone as I was yawning so much and with audible volume that shocked even me. Wine has never been more warranted. Vowing to write 500+ words about whatever I’m sipping. OR, what it makes me think of. Chardonnay always puts me back on that boat trip we took in late ’07, down the Mexican coast. We sipped Chardonnay on our deck. Hoping to go back, with only one glass tonight.