News on in background, me barely listening. Packed for office, running bag coming with. Talking with friend’s roommate last night, she telling me about a run she recently did at Point Reyes, then somewhere else, then one in Annadel. Next weekend, rather than go wine tasting with Chris I’ll been Bodega on some path or easy trail. Half-marathon coming up, March. Can’t remember exact day, but it’s two months away in my head.
Feeling a little tired but ignoring it, pushing through and past it. Committing to running in a way I never have. Even if I don’t feel like an hour run, I can do 45 minutes, or 30. Anything. Have to run five days a week. Not every one can be an intense session, or set some personal record. Keep telling myself this. The journey is slow, measured, tempered, deliberate.
Calls today. See how it goes. January is always slow, I know…. More and more imagining that wine shop, my little winery. Selling wine, the story… MY story, like my friend documenting her wine humor, shenanigans and what not. Wine story…. Build it I keep telling myself. That IS my topic, I mean aside from other scenes and characters and stories – I keep returning to wine.
Okay… challenging self again. Write ONLY about wine. Some like myself would query how you do that if you’re not drinking it, if you’re writing in the morning like I am now. Easy…. The stories, the people… imagining my sister and I back on the crush pad together. Me traveling, a glass on Montparnasse, or here in the Nook office like last night while talking to Mom and Dad.
Will I ever make the money in the wine industry that I am now as an AE? No. No way. Well, that’s if I do wine in the traditional and expected way. Why did I ever stray from that person’s advice, to write about wine, review wines… I’m centering this morning, rewriting a tone, a voice.
About EVERYTHING this morning, everything WINE. Okay… what do I do. What did I taste last night…. The Sophia’s Hillside Cuvée from Lancaster. Amazing as always, right bottle for cold night and when rain’s on its way. Old bottle pictures reminding me of time’s speed, that I need too more silly like my friend.
Found a picture. I remember this bottle, and being surprised by how delicious and forward it was with its communication. I miss the tasting room, selling wine, I’ll be more than honest. There’s no money in it, someone would say. True, but what if I do it differently? What does that mean? I have no idea. I’ll let you know when I know.