Thinking of wine approach for tonight.  And after watching the tasting with my sister and her winemaking partner, I need to speed up all matters pertaining to the blog and eventual shop.  Be more in-the-moment and real-time with wine notes.

Done for the day, I think, with the AE story.  No one getting back to me, me getting frustrated, and wine just sounds more enjoyable.  Having a bit of a slow and easy early happy hour here at desk.  Rest of that blend from last night.  Assertive floral curve and general tenor…. More interested than impressed.  The wine’s not bad, and certainly not flawed, I just don’t understand the language being spoken to me.  Which is precisely why I keep sipping.

Thinking anymore, that wine is going to be the sole sole and soul-topics.  Last night speaking to those students about winery operations and DTC, wine marketing and even offering career advice (something I feel that in NO WAY am I qualified to give, whether in bold speak or meek octave), I could see myself… the level of ME… how intense I spoke and the words that just catapulted themselves from my frame and thoughtful circulation.

I always come back to wine, winemaking…. My vineyard walks.  Thinking more, closer to EOD.  What wine, tonight… red, white, what.  What do I want to write about, would be a better question.  And, how much white wine do I even have?  Think one or two in the K&L shipment, and the Grenache Blanc to my right, gift from Lancaster acquaintance Greg.  The Red Blend, Westwood.  The wines from that cannon obviously connect, and say something, sing something I need to hear in this province of my prose..  Look right, no one outside.  I know, shelter in place.  SIP, which of course now wine industry people are using in their campaigns, their media posts….  Want to say I said it first, but maybe I didn’t.  Know I noticed it, but doesn’t matter.  Who first, when, whatever.

Kids are going batshit crazy, Mom yells upstairs for Emma to get dressed after she insisted on taking her nap in jammies.  Her new thing now.  I try to get work done, but again pulled away by Jack.  He’s been especially demanding and not really needy today but in request of something.  Me, the dad, have to oblige.  Well, I guess I don’t have to.  I guess I could be one of those dads that’s like, “Do it yourself…” Or, “Be a man, figure it out!” I’m not.  I appreciate his eagerness to communicate with me and ask for help, like with the pump for basketballs and other bouncy spheres.  He told me after inflating it that the little basketball was his favorite, as he could shoot half-court shots with it.  “Hey, Daddy… this one’s my favorite one, you know why?” Why buddy?  “’Cause I can make half-court shots with it, and I can almost hit the rim from all the way across the court… can you, Dada?” Nearly made me cry, so I put down the phone playing the on-air tasting with my sister and her winemaking opposite, and was fully present with him.  But he walked away, onto another project, and consistently telling me that he’s bored, and doesn’t know what to do.

Both of are there, my little beat.