Wine bar
3 glasses of red + 2 gal friends + 1 wine shot = FUN!!!
Hi and thanks for reading.
I’m revisiting this blog after years of absence. Somewhere along the way I sort of lost my writing voice. Or I got bored. Or perhaps I felt like I didn’t have much to say. Or that I did have things to say and that my voice couldn’t say them in a way that would be fresh or original or interesting.
Well, folks, I’ve reached a happy place where I don’t give a shit if my voice is fresh or original! And I certainly don’t give a shit if it’s interesting!
Welcome back to the Finished Plate Project. Here I explore my thoughts and feelings by taking a look at finished plates and reading them like a Rorschach test. It’s fun.
Last week I stayed in Summit County, CO, and two of my housemates (I also classify them as very good friends) visited for a few days out of the week. The area is picturesque to the extreme. It’s surrounded by multiple ski mountains. 360-degree views of pure pleasure. But these days I’m noticing an equal but opposite force that brings me back to reality — making me scrounge for the silver linings and doubt whether it’s okay to celebrate and bask in the beauty.
The perspective can be crushing.
The reservoir and surrounding mountains were at times opaque with smoke from numerous wildfires around the state. California, Oregon and Washington were also on fire. The Apple weather app advised vulnerable populations to stay indoors. Everyone is wearing masks now because the Coronavirus that causes COVID-19 is a horrific pandemic that has affected pretty much every human on the planet in some way.
I can spiral into despair. Or not. Last week I chose to drink wine.
The first evening all three of us goils got together and went to a sweet wine bar called Saved by the Wine. Two young women opened the place just a month before, and despite social distancing and the weirdness of the world, their spot seemed to be thriving. A woman celebrated her dog’s birthday on the patio. I don’t think we sang “Happy Birthday” to it. The dog and I both ordered a tiny potato gratin thing that was reheated and served in a paper muffin cup. It was oily and tasted good.
After the second round we started gushing — it was a total femme love fest of positive affirmations, encouragement and joy. With wine coursing through me like blood, I didn’t forget what was going on in the world, I just wasn’t thinking about it. It felt great. We took Sauvignon Blanc-spiked pear vodka shots with the owners.
I’m coming to terms with my happiness. I’m allowing myself to feel happy when so many around me are suffering. At times the disparities feel too great. How can I justify feeling this way when everything is so fucked up?
The answer is: I can because I’m privileged. I am endlessly grateful to have food, shelter and enough money to get by. I have a support network. I am safe. I have the privilege of feeling happy, so I will.
But that’s gotta balance out. Because I am secure, it’s my responsibility to use my privilege to create a better situation for others.
I’ve been volunteering at Metro Caring, a food bank in Denver that also offers community programs and works with communities to address the root causes of hunger (poverty, access, location, healthcare). I love this organization, and it’s doing incredible work and breaking records for the amount of food it distributes. Find an organization near you that benefits the community. Donate your time, money or expertise to it.
Good energy out = good energy in.
Do what you can to make the world a better place. And let yourself be happy.
