Life of Wry

Any guesses?

Ok, I’ll just tell you: It’s a wine glass sitting on a placemat (a placemat I bought in Kathmandu, nice?).  Further, for the wine people, it’s a 2009 Toad Hollow Pinot Noir, Goldie’s Vineyard in the Russian River Valley.

And it’s excellent.   Good job, Jim, who picks out most of the wine around here (by color and price, I believe).  Even though he doesn’t drink wine.

It’s actually the remains of last night’s glass of wine, but a sign of what’s to come in.. oh.. about 23 minutes.   (Yay Fridays.)

The highlight of this day, I must share, was sitting at Mishka’s this late, pre-fall afternoon, under an umbrella in the warm shade, with a very pleasing cafe au lait.  After weeks and weeks, I’d finally finished Louise Hillary’s book (High Time) so could at long last dive into The Corrections, Jonathan Franzen’s heavily-awarded 2001 novel.  Excited because he’s coming to Davis next month.  So, just sat there in the breezeway for an hour and read.  Heavenly or what?

What’s great is reading the first few pages of a new book and being blown away by an author’s mastery.. of words, images, and humans.  Kills me.  What was great this afternoon was how I was inspired, once again, to write.  I sat there just dying to take a crack at it myself.  Realized how rich the world is.. wherever you are.  I sat there and watched any number of dramas unfold and knew I wanted to get inside them and work them.. just for the fun of it.    I realized I need to go sit in a cafe more often (with a computer) and watch humans and observe settings and conjure stories, and how much better that will happen out in the world, and how it doesn’t happen at my desk.  Kind of random, I realize, a bit cart before the horse, not the way they might tell you to do it, but that’s what I want to do.

That was my excitement.  Makes me breathless.

Cannot wait for later to roll around so I can go to bed with my book, and breathe in all that razor sharp prose.  Love it.

But now: wine, dinner with some company..

..then.