A good year A drink/think blog

I'm still hungover. It's 2:41 am. The idea to wine taste through Sonoma over the next year is rolling around in my mind like untied barrels on a ship at sea. Oye work is going to be rough tomorrow. Between the lack of sleep and the excess of drinking. I couldn't fall asleep. Back to wine tasting.

Moving to Sonoma county was an accident. This is an aside. It's 3:12 am. I'm not sure how lengthy I want to make this. Between accident and purpose, I want to taste some really good wines. And Sonoma county as the world knows has some of the best.

I suppose I'll create some sort of list, ordered by location. I'll try to do it through this next birth year of mine as a way to observe the journey. I've lived in Sonoma county for a whole year and this weekend is the first wine tasting I've done. Is that a year wasted? I'm not sure. There was certainly drinking involved, perhaps not with the level of appreciation good wine or wine in general deserves.

But first birthdays. So this weekend was sort of a birthday weekend. I mean my birthday was Thursday of this week. I'm 28 now. I'm single and have few friends. I could have been super lonely, which I usually am on weekends.. but my roommate got a couple of her friends together and we went out to wine taste. So much fun! It reminded me of how much I love good wine as much as I love good company.

I'm a naturally quite person. I have a lot of anxiety. Being in my roommates car with two of her friends talking gave me an almost naseutating amount of anxiety. Questions flooding my mind about my insecurities in relation to whatever the conversation was. I don't think anyone in the car realizes that I was intentionally quite to not throw up. Their voices pinging against my nervous brain. I'm thinking to myself, this can't be normal. Finally with some relief we arrive at the first winery. I bolt to the bathroom for some respite and collect myself. This will be fine. I can make it through a tasting.

The wine was ok. We wander around. It's an overcast misty day. The nearby creek is swollen with the recent rains. The current and the alcohol meditatively sweeps away the apprehension of beginnings I felt in the car. I'm finding my place in the group. My roommate and nexus for the group eases us into comfortable chit chat as we huddle back inside after the misting becomes a steadier drizzle.

We go to the next winery and on our way see the many signs of the numerous tasting rooms dotted along Russian River. I tell them the story about wine pouring French wines for rural Illinoisans. We laugh at what may be our own snobbery. We're going to talk fruitforward till the cows come home. Our laughter provides the reassurance that there is a pair of friends for me as well. The comradery eases my anxiety and the wine blends our connversation. At 3:41 am I reflect on the previous day and hope that sometime soon I will again have such a good one.

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