To judge by this blog, my life is just one party after another. And that's true, though in between I have the pleasure of haranguing vineyard owners to plant what I want them to instead of what they think will sell five years from now, haggling with mendacious cork and label suppliers over wildly varying prices for the same type of product, dealing with lying wine salesmen without succumbing to enological Tourette's syndrome or just reaching for a spear, and other terroir du merde. Can't they understand that I'm an artist?
That's enough complaining for this year.
I'm really looking forward to the geek blogger party in Vegas on Friday, where I can answer my least favorite question, "So how did you become a winemaker?" with my favorite answer.
"I made the best damn pruno in San Quentin, bitch."