On a lunch break, and promising myself the vineyard, my own bottlings, days where I’m cleaning barrels and calling club members to see how they are.  Not selling them a thing, just saying hello.

Getting back to wine— No, more than that, the wine or even the vineyard.  The love and passion and consuming interest of everyday being around wine and its stage.  In a mode of deconstruction, trying to discern precisely what it is that’s calling me so strongly these past few weeks.  What brought me back to the dream of my own little label and tasting room, a small set of rows just outside the kitchen…

Looking at the clock, reminded how time just does not care.  Last night with the Dutcher Crossing Pinot with the Nurse, and then tonight dinner possibly at a favorite family spot where wine is annunciation in the restaurant’s tone.

Call with a friend yesterday toward EOD, about openings, possibilities.  Passing on most of them.  Actually all.  I’m out to do what some have done, like David Phinny— WRITE MY OWN STORY.