9:01pm, kids getting ready for bed and me sipping on this Legend by Westwood Wines, 2017.  Told Drew to bring a glass over for himself in the word and sake of being cautious etc. and to my immediate and resonant amusement he shows with a Taco Bell cup.Telling. me he stopped at a Taco Bell, ordered a water, then spilt it as soon as he stepped on my lawn pouring it out so I could spill some of the Leo Steen finally opened into his glass.  Told him I’d put it on the blog, and now that I did I sip some more of the wine he generous couriered here for a hungry writer again falling into the tone and loving rile decided of deciding to write wine.  And only wine.

Kids upstairs taking a bath, ready for my AE week.  My wine book, or the first one, hoping to have done in 21 days.  Like Kerouac.  Starting with everything in that first day at St. Francis, to just the other day when I foolishly showed at EOD hoping for a glass fo wine then being told I couldn’t do that.  Even as Katie’s brother.  Was dumb of me.  Days are different. There’s a pandemic.  Fuck.  Another sip of the Legend, writing my own legend.. writing wine and only wine.

Memory of late-CEO Chris Silva asking me to scrub bird shit off one of the plaques outside, at St. Francis, beginning of the day.  I thought was rude of him to ask me to do that, but now interring the favor he asked more than gently and with a certain expression of affinity for me, like I should see this property as my own with how much time my family has given… I now feel flattered, like Chris was saying “This is your winery, keep it clean.” Interesting.  Now I do want my own label.  Writing thoughts in the 1948 Dad journal…. Private tastings, four wines, maybe five…