Santa Rosa, CA.
Told Melissa I’m getting bored with Sonoma County. First time I’ve shared the idea before, or sentiment. Did so on way to seeing Jack and Emma, and after taking little Henry to another appointment.
Ran a bit over 2 miles today. Too tired to go further. Not sure what to write at the end of this first week with Henry. I’m learning to be more maneuverable, write while walking or awake at some odd hour, either feeding or waiting to burp him after a couple pints of leche.
Working in the wine shop/blog later. May order some new wines, not sure what though. And write the article I’ve been meaning to.
Think I need more caffeine, like vineyard manager or supervisor, or anyone in the vineyard up since 3-something. Keep the drip consistent. What else do I say about wine and my shop… the thought’s haunted me tirelessly since getting up before 6 this morning to feed Henry.
New wines, new adventures and words, paragraphs… wine story for me as soon as this covid nonsense passes us. I don’t need to wait, though, do I. Why’d I say that?
If I’m getting bored with Sonoma County, where to then? Well, in a word, no where. Just want an escape/writing house. Since the hospital with Henry only a couple hours old and trying to sleep I’ve had this dream of getting away for a week to finish a book. Somewhere in some forest, like Oregon, or Idaho, Montana, or….. Just escaping and telling self “You have one week to finish the book.” I can do that here, I know. Guerrilla writing, wherever you can find time, minutes or seconds.
Opening a Chardonnay tonight, and promising a thousand words. I know, most wouldn’t read that much on a single wine. Don’t care. I’m writing for me, for the wine, wine as. Astray telling its own story to me in a mad flurry of loving shapes and angles, equations and orations.
Wherever the writing or getaway house is, there need be a wine room. One for study, tasting not drinking, conversation, understanding. A wine temple, maybe. I don’t know, it’s still an idea. Just an idea, but not a mere idea.