Stop asking that your wine be 'clean', and start demanding it be delicious.
When I take a summer day off from the store, you can usually find me somewhere in southern Rhode Island, toes in the sand, eyes on the waves. Honestly, I love the beach so much it’s a wonder I haven’t grown fins. An early morning run or walk, a quick dip in the ocean, uninterrupted time with a good book, maybe a nap…what’s not to love? And that’s before considering the incredible beauty of sand, surf, and sky.
That beauty may be my primary reason for beach worship, but I also appreciate how time slows down to just the space between the wind and the waves. Like almost everyone I know, my days don’t contain a lot of ‘slow’.
I have that ‘slow’ on the brain this week, after reading an article about historian David McCullough. In an interview with the Providence Journal, the award-winning* author claims that he types his manuscripts on a 75-year-old Royal typewriter. “I paid $25 for it in the 1960s…People tell me how much faster I could go (with a computer). But I don’t want to go faster. If anything, I want to go more slowly. I don’t think all that fast. And there’s a lot of thinking that goes into writing.”
Thinking: we could all use more of that. And slow: as good a prescription as any for an excellent life. I think I’ll pack up one of McCullough’s books, a picnic lunch, and my beach chair, then toss a bottle of crisp white in the cooler for dinner at Crazy Burger** and point my car south. Slowly.
Slow food. Slow wine. Slow down. Enjoy.
* Truly. 2 Pulitzers, for Truman and John Adams. 2 National Book Awards, for Mornings on Horseback and The Path Between the Seas.
** Narragansett restaurant famed for good food and a generous BYOB policy.