Music of the Day: Spyrogyra, Bob Goes to the Store

Last Friday’s post, under the influence of some kind of German wine, drew rave reviews from at least one dedicated reader, so I thought I’d provide another quick entry this evening following an extended, and extremely pleasurable, encounter with a very nice Pinot Grigio from Luna Vineyards in Napa Valley (2005). My palate is undeveloped, so far as wine is concerned, but as some now forgotten (by me, at least) Supreme Court justice said of pornography (unable to define it precisely, he said, famously, “I know it when I see it”), not being able to accurately describe the aforementioned wine, I know that it was good and tasty and crisp. Actually, it still is good; the past tense is not yet appropriate, but give me another hour or so. . . .

And tonight’s wine went very well with our friend Alicia’s killer seafood chowder that has everything in it, and I do mean everything, that is both good and (theoretically) good for you (me/us). So I am feeling expansive. And good. We had a significant rainfall here today and this evening’s temperatures are cool and the westerly breeze is just strong enough to further the cooling effect. After our rain and hail and wind and lightning and thunder, the skies cleared and we had our usual afternoon sunshine and blue sky—my definition of a perfect summer day in our fine mountain town.

The wine has even made me forget, temporarily, my niggling aches and pains—elbow (tendonitis), lower back (age/tennis), knees (again, age/tennis), hips (again, with the age/tennis!) and others too minor to mention but still extant. Now, good people, that is an excellent wine if it can make you further forget, or ignore for a while, your aches and pains and infirmities and foibles and such. So let’s hear it for Luna Vineyards!

Tomorrow morning will feature the following: I’ll strap on the back-brace immediately after lurching out of bed and then I’ll stuff an ice pack in there to freeze out the standard morning tingling and soreness, after which I’ll make a powerful and thick sludge known as “coffee,” which I’ll consume before heading to the slaughterhouse for the daily carnage. I usually nibble on snacks at the shop—a fruit bar, an apple, maybe a banana, and some left-over birthday cake, or maybe a slice of pizza from the little shop around the corner. No cold cuts—that’s bad form in the butcher/slaughterhouse business, to be sure. And at the end of the day tomorrow, MLB will drive to our local big-city airport afternoon to retrieve her eldest who will accompany us on our sojourn to the islands in the Pacific. Things are lookin’ good.

The final four ounces of Luna awaits, so that’s all, folks, for this evening. May you soon experience your own expansiveness!

AJ

TO LIVE IN FREEDOM’S LIGHT IS THE RIGHT OF MANKIND.