Yeah!

The bad news: Big Papi called from the winery to let me know he'd forgotten he was going to give me a ride. So be it.

The good news: More barrels! That stack of 36 barrels in the corner that have been glaring at me for the past week is apparently in need of some tough love. Once Mueller plays some more Fork Lift Donkey Kong I will be a cooper once again.

I got to punch down (stir the solids that rise to the top of a fermenting bin of grapes) by hand yesterday, and my arm still smells vaguely of Gamay Noir, despite two showers and 18 hours of elapsed time. There is something very satisfying about being up to your shoulder in warm, fizzy pre-wine. I rather like it. I was supposed to drive a truck yesterday, what would have been the largest I'd ever driven, to drop off some bins at a Sonoma vineyard, but the rental couldn't make it out of the driveway. The vineyard owner picked up the bins himself, leaving me to futz around and then call it a short day.

My $6 tomato from the farmers' market is disappointing, and I have only eaten about 1/5 of it. It seems ripe enough, but the skin is metallic tasting with a bit more tooth than I like in a late summer tomato. Hmmph...time to make a lettuce sandwich for lunch.

Made it home in time for the Red Sox game, but it was rained out, so I slept from 7:30 until 6 this morning. God willing I will make it back in time to catch at least part of the double header. Last night's entertainment was Waiter Rant, a very amusing blog, the subject of which I am sure you can guess.

Dog is walked, coffee is cold and miles to go before I sleep.