and melodic, oddly hypnotic.  Nothing caustic or encroaching… aware some want me off this smiling slide, but I’m stubborn and set and trenchant in such glide.

Wine shop images and past memories keep courting me.  Need to think, sip more of this coffee and look out window, look at tickets… the composition of the eventual bridge from tech to my vineyard, the shop.  My new and last ship.  Nurse onboard till docked—

Wine is like a teller, its own microphone and song, speaker.  To me, directly.  New words and nerves.  All pristine and clearly communicative, nothing blurred.

No wine tonight, but seeing the next pour as something from that recent tasting in Sonoma, somewhere I haven’t been in, shit I have no idea.  Honestly not sure if I’ve ever been there before, now that I really drill.

Gratitude overwhelming and enveloping me.  Office quiet, peaceful.  Door closed but it doesn’t need be…. Looking at writings from the Kunde days, 2012-early 2015.  Wow… like a different me.  Mountaintop Tours, craziness of the main tasting room, that 202 patio.  Like another life.  Goodness……. Time again shaking me, telling me to never let myself be in some funk or stall, lull or low ebb.  Unacceptable.