Montepulciano de What?

The way he says "Montepulciano D'Abruzzo" is intoxicating.  Maybe that's what made me fall in love with him.  Maybe it was the first meal at Amuse we had together, our first date.  Maybe it was all the Montepulciano we had on that first night.  I don't know.  However, I know Montepulciano is good and intoxicating, just like Ben.

Last night, when I was complaining about about all the dandelions in the yard, and thinking about murdering them with herbicidal spray or other aweful and ingenious idea, Ben simply said, "You have an edible garden in your yard, you just don't know it."  He made the most delicious dinner.  He braised the dandelion leaves with our Montepulciano, made polenta from cornmeal, and the steak...oh the steak.  The steak was a three dollar sirloin from the local market, which he pounded out and made into two deliciously tender bistro style steaks.  What yum....

I ate dinner hurriedly, like it was the best meal I had had ever had.  I had no idea dandelions could taste so deliciously tart.  Ben doesn't realize how good he really is, or maybe he does.  At any rate, he is not pleased that I am showing you photos and telling stories about our lives.  He fought me for a minute, then he said, "If you insist!"  I do insist.  This is the story of me, my life, and our living with OCPD.  He is a major character, and a genuine friend and lover of mine.  He deserves the respect of being acknowledged.

Speaking of good things, I've had an epiphany.  Maybe it's all the good Montepulciano I've had over the past few days.  However, I've found myself able to look back over the situations in the past which have proven themselves beneficial to me as well as harmful to me over the past few years.  A few of them include the Breadboard, a past relationship (ewe), Morimoto, and moving to Napa.  I am excited to keep exploring my thoughts on those subjects and eventually sharing my findings in the area.

In the meantime, Greenleaf has been good to me, as has Daniel.  It's an atmosphere I'm comfortable in, and Daniel shows respect toward me.  He acknowledges my battles and the fact that I'm off medication, and he himself has become a support in my life.  I had my first almost meltdown today about a cuttingboard that smelled like mildew.  Fucking gross.  I've been saying it for a few days, that something needed to change with the cleaning routine. When you stack twenty cutting boards together and they're wet, they won't dry.  It's not that we don't clean them, it's just that the space isn't allowed to dry them correctly.  Apparently I'm the only server to ever notice.  Go fucking figure. I would like to keep my posts about Greenleaf short and simple, because my paycheck is signed by Daniel, and we all know my writing won't pay the bills.  

I can't wait to begin my waiter's rant for you though.  It's coming, I promise.

I was given the "opportunity" to organize Ben's office, which of course I will take advantage of.  Probably while taking full advantage of a bottle of Montepulciano d'Abruzzo, as well.  He's going to be managing Front of House as well as Back of House operations at the the restaurant, and though I don't want to sell myself out to feel some sort on involvement with the restaurant, I know Ben won't have time to do it for himself.  In the end our life together will benefit from my skills as an "everything in its place" kind of person.  I just hope I'm acknowledged for what I do, and not just exploited for my crazy organizing skills.

In the meantime, and on a "me" note, I'm happy to just be; be in the sunshine, be able to mow the lawn and have a margarita with dad after work.  It's essentially the little things that make us happy people, even when it's the little things we disregaurd.

The F#Ked Fairie

I was drawn to that cork tonight. I open maybe two, sometimes three bottles of wine a night, and I never look at the cork. Sure, I smell it. I feel it. I save it in a pitcher. However, tonight I looked at it. To my amusement, I saw a fairie getting fucked by a bunch of grapes. Essentially, my life has unfolded in much the same way, like that poor fairie whos privacy had been pissed on. Quite frankly I thought maybe, if I looked hard enough, I could see her facial expression. Did she like it? Was she distressed? Was she going to cum? Perhaps, if I listened hard enough, maybe I could even hear her moaning. Would she have to take a Plan B? When she was fufilled, would she quietly slip away to clean the juices off herself? Then I realized I was being selfish again (I frequently am). Dipping into this fairies most intimate moment, I felt slightly buzzed; a light-hearted wine buzz. I thought: Did I really need to know all the details? I mean, the simple fact that I was looking at a love scene on a wine cork should be sufficient, right? Twently minutes later, the cabernet gone, I came to a conclusion. Nothing ever happens the way you imagine it should, or the way you want it to. We go on, fumbling with day to dayness, trying not to fuck up too badly. We dream our big dreams and have passion and live with desire. We move forward and do the best we can. With any type of luck whatsoever, our big dreams become our reality. In my dream my love forgives me. In my dream, my love becomes my groom. In my dream my kids love me. They forgive me, also. And in my dream my groom and my children become one. I, in turn, become theirs. And, in the end, I don't have to ask for forgiveness anymore. I want to be lie the fairie that was caught getting fucked by the grapes. I am sure she wasn't wanting her privacy to be diminished. Perhaps she didn't want to be taken out of the darkness and brought into the light, her every detail being examined. No, it wasn't what she was expecting, but the wine, in the end, was fucking yummy!