Tasters from Dallas…

“I think of that pink wine when I hear Zinfandel. Is that wrong?” 40-something woman says.

“Well, it–” I start.

“Zinfandel IS pink, Jeanie.  This is a different kind of Zinfandel.  It’s red so it’s much different.  There’s tannics in this one.  Actual Zin doesn’t have tannics ’cause it’s served cold.” Early 50’s man confidently offers.

“Well…” Not knowing how to respond, I don’t before I do.

Wine has the writer

thinking about travel, again.  Going against what’s expected.  Why does wine hold this hold over and around me?  It’s a functionally too-functional relationship.  It’s not even a relationship or codependency– not sure what it is but wine is and I am and we’ll always be assembled concurrent.  It’s 11:26 right now and I haven’t walked a vineyard row yet.  I tap into my pictures and hope for the best… please can there be one somewhere in this phone that puts me there… a vineyard in Greece, Spain, Champagne, Portugal…

In a mood right now but you know

what….

I know people don’t want to hear or read about that.  Snap out of it…. concentrate on what strengths and fires already drive my character.

Stabilized…. situated.  Cemented in my new sensibilities.

No… No.

I’m changing this…..  Creativity solves EVERYTHING.