Opened some SB, Lancaster.  Sipping slow.  Can hear Henry outside speaking his congealed and exploratory language.

A sip, and a book.  Sipping wine wherever… new stories about to start, be catalyzed.

Going from website to website, looking for stories… One tasting room on Healdsburg Square, then one in Russian River.  Then one with which I’m more than familiar.  Too much noise around me to focus with Henry and his Henry meta-words outside then the neighborhood Moms talking about shows, then something I don’t understand, then another topic that I’m unsure of.

Stay in wine, Mike… say to myself over and over, then open the Wine Spectator issue that was mailed to me a few days ago, the one I took to the tasting room Sunday.  Can’t concentrate enough to read.  Go watch the news.

News just annoying me with its recycling and repetition.  Looking through old pictures, seven years ago today sipping a Lancaster Cabernet, Estate of course.  So I pour self a glass of Chris’ GSM blend.  Imagining wine, in more ways than I can now note.  More than this magazine and the obvious adds with their glossy boast and rattle.