2004-01-06 - 7:58 p.m.
It’s a cold one up here on the hill tonight. The wind occasionally hits with such force that the house shudders, so it’s a good night to stay in and read or write and stay close to the fire.
As I write, I’m sipping wine, enjoying the penultimate bottle from two cases of Michel Bernard merlot that I purchased by mail order two years ago. I had brought the wine up from the cellar yesterday to serve with the crackers and cheese and venison wieners sautéed in sweet-and-sour sauce that my brothers had brought with them for us to eat after their grouse hunt, but my friend Jim had also brought along a magnum of Shiraz Cabernet (excellent, btw) and so my bottle proved superfluous and remained in the fridge. So, I’m drinking it now. I’d probably not have opened it but for the fact about an hour ago I remembered it’s Beau’s birthday, and so decided to celebrate extravagantly.
He’s the big number one today. It’s hard to believe it’s been a year already and yet in some ways it seems like ten. Time flies and it doesn’t, I guess. Anyway, I sat down on the floor and sang Happy Birthday, with him looking at me sideways as if I had gone suddenly unstable until I came to the part: “Happy Birthday dear Beau-eau…” at which point, hearing his name, he did this funny little double-take which made me laugh. Right now he’s outside prancing around in the moonlight, the only one of my dogs who wants any part of this cold blowing night.
It’s pretty out, I’ll give it that. The moon is shining like a flashlight through the high window up over the kitchen. Amazing, the amount of light coming in. Maybe in a bit I’ll turn off this machine, turn off everything, and just stand by a window, sip wine, and look out on the world and muse on the meaning of life. Who knows? I might even get drunk enough to go out after a bit and join Beau for a little moonlight prancing of my own.
