My days seem so long. Like just when I think I’m done, there is just one more, or one hundred more things that I have to deal with, pet, coax and coo at in order for the rest of my life to run smoothly enough for me to keep trudging through. While that may sound selfishly indulgent it is in fact the way things have been going and I don’t see any flickering light at the end of some goddamn tunnel, least not anytime soon.
The economy fucking blows. People are horrifically bummed and clutching each and every dollar as if their very life depends on it…might in fact be true but those of us on the retail end are feeling those white knuckles worse than ever before. I’ve smiled and done my best to charm the wayward consumer that comes in looking to, well to look and not buy, more times than I care to count and the driving past shells of recently “liquidated” independent stores and restaurants on my drive to work each day is simply a depressing reminder of how close we all are to boarding up and surrendering to the mass market of medium. Fuck….
Got home this evening and realized that I had left my notebook at work, the one containing all the tasting notes needed to get my already late write ups to Randy for The Wine Country newsletter. Not sure there is anyone I can coo to at this point, I’m late and he is waiting for whatever nubbins of articulation I have to help inspire sales and get people in the store. Simply cannot believe I would, once again, be this late and find myself at well past midnight trying to piece together notes coherent enough to trigger sales for our store. Once again all I can think to say, fuck….
Seeing as there was nothing I could do I opted to make a fiercely fresh tasting dinner, a soup loaded with vibrant veggies, some seared sausage, chewy pasta and buttery shards of shaved cheese. The list of men I crave pleasing is small, I can count them on one hand even and one I was clearly failing so the one that bumps around this dusty little cavernous joint I call home, well at least I might be able to please him. Sweated along with the onions, bits of garlic and found solace in the soulful growl of Rickie Lee Jones, “Chuck E’s in love” the simple base line and unstoppable snapping my soundtrack as I chopped and tossed goodies into my broth.
Four bowls of soup later Call-o was scouring the dishes and I was locked deeply into my ipod, “So good, there’s something about this place” making me think of my store and how far behind I was in spilling my guts about all the thrilling stuff that keeps me showing up each day, aching to share them with others….all of if slamming against me causing me to feel intensely guilty. Next song up, “I’m thinking about a red wine buzz and taking it easy” the words lit up my ears and gave me that feeling that reminds me of thick meaty hands digging deeply into my tight, ready to be relieved shoulders.
“You say Baby, how’s your day?“
“I say crazy”
“But it’s all gonna be alright”
The lyrics setting the pace, pushing, prodding me to just let go and dip my soul in a bottle of wine that sings to me….
Let myself puddle and marinate in a bottle of Fabrice Gasnier les Graves Chinon. Let the gentle dried herbs, intensely aromatic flowers and suppleness spill over me, my tense shoulders and aching body. Each swallow ringing in my ears and each dribble of sumptuous liquid landing like sparks in the pit of my stomach…sending reminders to the rest of me.
I can play around with wines from elsewhere but my Loire reds, well there is just something about the two of us.
“So good, something about this place”……
Something about you and I…