Breakfast, and a drive to Windsor sound lovely. Music, find new artists and tracks. Can’t forget to write a poem today. Why not now…
Started, now a break. Jack comes over to say hi, pat me on the back here in the office. He says he loves me and I say love you too, and good job on the writing today.
Emma watching Bugs Bunny in office with me, just put battery charger for camera into wall. More photog, I order. Take a quick shot on phone of Emma in the corner there, kid stuff all around her, watching her little show.
Football today, I think. Right? Mimosas and football. Just thought of that, and it sounds amazing.
Think of the startup and the visual philosophy behind it. Everything captured, EVERYTHING. Not about the good, bad, ugly. Just EVERYTHING.
Emma’s cartoon starts to annoy me. “Emmie, can you go in the other room?” She tells me she can’t ‘cause Jack’s in there I say no he’s not he’s upstairs. She then wants to get dressed, handing back my phone and asking me to not lose her place in the cartoon. Promise I won’t.
1:02pm 4-shot latte. Sorry, 3. I’m not that crazy. Well I am. But I swear, only three. Gardner outside mowing and whacking, trimming and shredding or shaving, loud. I stay in chair and think of the week, how I’ll begin tomorrow. Looking for instruction in the week with old pictures, those of wine people, the wine experiences, wine, tasting room, leaves on vineyard canes, clusters, anything wine. The camera not wanting to talk to the lap or maybe the there way around. Hoping to get out for a drive, shoot some vines on Olivet, not too far away.
Tonight I’ll open one of the Oliver’s Own bottles I bought yesterday, either the Cab or Meritage the only two I bought. Think Meritage as I just had a varietal-Cab. Thoughts from each possibility.. Gardner now on other side of wall, and I’m incredibly annoyed but why. He has his own business, and I’m sure workshop at home where he fixes his tools, has all his gloved and PPE, other stuff. He’s independent…. So I start brainstorming and noting in journal and inwardly not writing a single word, about independence.. own office, one name – BOTTLEDAUX – and where I want it going from the three syllables.
One pic from 2015, two winemaker friends of mine chatting over a bin of I believe Pinot. At the crush pad right up the street on Hopper. Then another of my son, I think at 4 years old, then one of a leaf and the sun behind it offering a layered voice a certain turn in texture.
Find Emma under my desk armed with one of those nerf guns after I bring down Henry’s bed. Promised them after assertive voices that I’d play upstairs with them, take a break from the desk and keys and these wine places and times in camera.
Kids quiet. Think they’re going to ambush me. In fact I’m sure they will. Surprise… more than just an element, but capture of love and attention, art, identity.