Epiphanous happenings over wine. I am back in my room. The aforementioned suite. The suite beyond my experential knowledge.
It is late, and I am enjoying the smell of wooden embers glowing in the hearth. Warmth, light, romance, fire.
Here’s where the bullshit that is my life, hits the fan of shit and pain and stupid. I am in this room with and because of work. I am in this state, the state of Cali, the state with the bears on their flags, with and because of love.
Am I sitting by the fire aglow and rustic in a spacious, warm suite canopy bed, white linens, spa fresh from a gratis bathing ritual, because of love? Alas, no. My coworker, our boss and I just finished talking about tomorrow’s proceedings.
Woe is my access to comfort. Woe is my warm sweet oak smell and warm sweet oak taste of Chardonnay near enflamed logs. Wine country is missing its romance and giving up its toil.
Viva la revolution. Viva Chavez.
good wine and chardonney should not be confused o wise one
up the revolution
dave
Ah, yes, but the chardonnay was free. It came with the suite.
Sometimes free trumps palate.
Earlier in the evening, when my toilplace’s presidente graciously picked up the tab, the wine that flowed was most definitely good, and to me tasted like excellent.