What’s a bed?

Taylor’s birthday party was a lot of fun. But I may have overstepped my bounds a little from the food consumption standpoint.

Cecily cooked up a southern storm. Blackened catfish, fried catfish, fried chicken, homemade pommes frites. There was also red wine, salad, chocolate cake, and ice cream. Although there was no salt in any of the food I sampled, it was the first dairy and animal protein for me in over a month. I did, however, display awesome willpower by foregoing the fried chicken.

But I noted minor lung congestion as I lay down to sleep. Not a lot, but the distinctive “crackling” as I breathed. Maybe it was the preparation method. Maybe my system had to work a little harder to digest the animal proteins, and my overworked heart could not clear the fluids as efficiently. Whatever it was, it certainly got my attention. Note to self: a vegetarian diet may be easier to digest.

We were pretty tired after the guests left and decided to treat ourselves to a night indoors. But I woke up after an hour feeling claustrophobic. So off to the tent it was, where my lungs appreciatively drew in the cool, moist night air. And felt perfectly at home.


As if that weren’t enough, we were treated to a beautiful dawn, the full moon setting in the west . . . the early morning fog slowly withdrawing its blanket from the vineyards, allowing the rising sun to warm what is destined to become tomorrow’s wine.

“The sun, with all those planets revolving around it and dependent on it, can still ripen a bunch of grapes as if it had nothing else in the universe to do.” Galileo