This is what tonight looks like, with the occasional addition of a mousy grey feline in and out of the vicinity:
I’ve decided having a blog about your life [and generating content for it] greases a certain ‘tuning in’ … an awareness to instances worth writing about, without the blog superseding the life itself. It’s a bizarre concept. Taking into account how edited it is (Rob got the wrong cottage cheese, I reacted poorly; I didn’t blog that), truth is in our hands. Rather than diddle around that conundrum, I think it’s caused me to live in the moment. Many moments. And much more.
Blogs aside, I’ve also decided wine facilitates a sort of ‘in the moment’ magic. And the ineluctable effect of wine aside, opening a bottle becomes an unspoken commitment—one to make a moment special. Especially a bottle you’ve connected with before.
It’s why I honestly do feel bad for people who don’t ‘get’ wine for what it is—what it can be. You can have 100 chicken parms, but will you honestly look at chicken parm on a menu and think, “Do you remember when… and we had just… and you were wearing… before it started to pour… that was incredible.”
This bottle? It’s a favorite of mine… long since documented. [A must-read!] I earned this today… so with Rob at mountain altitude and my head in the clouds, I opted to cycle right from work over to Purdy’s (where I caught a glimpse of Joseph Carr signing some bottles, but was too shy to say hello) and lay down the plastic for a bottle.
I wanted to implement a sense of appreciation about this night; I didn’t want to catch the clock at 10 and wonder where the time had gone. So I opened it, I let it breathe while stroking Eli’s shoulder blades, fiddled around with the ring on my finger, thought about my Granny Marge, poured myself a glass, and settled in to the important task of living in the moment.
Then, I photographed it.