Never really thought much of rosé. Until now.

I'm into the hard stuff: dark chocolate, red wine, espresso, and (until recently) rare meat.

But we had a heat wave last week. And I fell from grace. Well, we both did.

We started drinking rosé. Specifically, Ménage à Trois, from Folie à Deux Winery in St. Helena, California.

So tonight, we had to get through the evening somehow. We took the tots to a park where there are sprays of water. And we let them run naked in the jets while we sipped rosé in our stainless steel camping wineglasses (very classy).

And I started to feel... so happy. Light and silly. And we laughed at the funny people who passed through the park: that guy in his speedo on the bicycle, and those other two guys who had shoulders big enough to fit a whole Jason inside each one. And the tots jumped under the spraying water and I watched the trees waggle their tiny friendly branches.

Who knew rosé could be so much fun?

Playing tag with the tots

We were in a sort of controlled figure-8 pathway with lots of hiding places and stuff. Mr. Nibs and Imogen were racing around. There were other people there, and cats. I was hiding by lying down on the grass. Neither tot could see me, but I was hardly hiding. Finally, I got up and went to find them. I slipped slowly into conciousness. It was 7:11am.

No more wine.

No more wine.
No more wine.

Book as dream

We watched the films, now I am reading the books.
Millennium. The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo.
I read this 850 page book in under a week.
I would wake up in the middle of the night and burn through a hundred pages, lying on the couch.
You just fall through this thing, I tell you.
Not a deep book. Not a complex book, finally.
But a helluva ride. A dream of a book.
I wonder how autobiographical this book is?
I wonder if it will spur a new kind of journalism.