Pinot for Charlie

I’m working on a difficult job in a large expensive home - a faux green lacquer wall finish in a dining room. The pressure is on to make it work. My hand hurts because I am aging and my body has had enough. I put on the gray primer with only a brush, as I and my assistant will do for the entire job. Brushing, brushing, all day brushing.

The clients fortunately are lovely people, appreciative, patient and friendly.

I strike up a conversation with the man of the house about wine. I know from working for these folks a decade ago that John is crazy about wine. I let him know that I have re-discovered wine this year, found that it no longer makes me sleepy. I have started to understand the subtlety, nuance, variety, mysteriousness of wine. We talk for a while about it and I hit him up for information gleaned from his many years as an aficionado.

Minutes before I am ready to leave, he walks in and hands me a bottle of my favorite kind of wine: pinot noir. He says that this one is his favorite and mentions that it is a tad beyond the price range we had been discussing (below $20.00). I am thunderstruck and suggest that perhaps I should save it. “No,” he says, “ you should drink it this weekend. Life is too short.” And so I did. And it was ethereal, balanced, smooth, wonderful. It played itself out on the center of the tongue, grape flavors below and spices above. Magnificent gift.

My sister’s dog Charlie died today. Charlie was huge - a golden-doodle, I think - and more like a person than a dog, as sweet as could be. He went everywhere with she and her husband. He died on the way to the animal hospital. Only four years old. Perhaps blogging about wine is superficial in the wake of their loss. But I am thinking that it is the wonderful, beautiful, mysterious and profound things in this life that wake us up and cut deep into our selves. Passion comes in many shapes and sizes. Bless you Charlie.