Not sure what to do.  Trapped in the house.  How I feel.  This shit is getting old.

Go to Sonoma?

Go for a run?

No idea.

Indifferent, indecisive…. irritated.

4:11

Glass of Caddis Chardonnay, thinking about that tasting room and Chris and the wine he makes.  Got a bottle of this, then one of each Cab.

Playing with design tonight and writing, more business ideas on the drive back, especially when I hit Kunde’s property border, droving further West to Santa Rosa where I’d stop at Su Casa to get lunch for family.

Had a veggie burrito, planning on light dinner.  Run in the morning, AVOWED.  Shooting for 6+

…

Emma comes in and says she’s getting Otter Pops for her, Jack, and his friend.  “Not for you, okay Dada?” Why not for me, I demand.  Because, she says.  I ask for further explanation and elaboration and she says ‘cause I’m old.  Then goes further to remind me that I’m not a kid.  Point appreciated.

Made list of points to hit in tonight’s sitting.  Just three, so far.  And might leave it there.  Done with Chardonnay, may get another glass in a minute.  Imagining myself making wine, spending my life like that… but I don’t have a chemistry degree.  So what.  Again, just imagining.

I’ll be writing about the Jonas wine tonight, made by Kunde winemaker and friend Zach Long.  Cabernet Franc.  Not many CF’s I’ve had that have made me write.  This one will.  I’ve tasted it a few times before and it there’s a distinct growl and purr to the sequencing suggestions from the being itself.

Sitting at the desk in quiet for a second, thinking about the next few years of my story.  What I want, how I’ll acquire it.  What I need to shed.  Know I just made that long list of projects, but I vow to contain it to a page.  Traveling, getting a getaway home like a friend just did.  Maybe two or three escape dwellings.

Before getting another glass of this Chardonnay, I look to see if my winemaker friend Bill of Desmond Wines has texted back.  Told him I was home if he wanted to bring by the case that I ordered and I’d pay on my patio.  Nothing.  Not yet.  I hope for a response soon, or tomorrow.  Eager to write about his wines, same as I am Chris’, or Zach’s.  Because of covid travel isn’t a possibility.  Doens’t matter.  I’l travel with pages and the sentences on them.  Taking covid out of the oscillation by not even addressing it.  No more.  Covid made me a fiction writer, possibly.  Wrote fiction before here and there but now I have to for mental manuscript and togetherness.

My winemaking character….  Needing further building.  Neil… crazy and erratic, not at all “by the book” but knows the book better than its author.  He scribbles notes while tasting on his bench, the wooden one his father made years ago…

Now more traits and behaviors of this character and how he approaches wine surface.  He opens three bottles to taste with his friend, Hunter. They go back and forth, spitting occasionally but scribbling notes, not full sentences, like rabid badgers.