My Cup Runneth Over

This last month has been quite the doozy and frankly, I’ve been bad at Internet as a result of it. It’s hard to keep up with the blog when there’s so much to do IRL, but let’s give it the whole college try, eh?

November was a big month for work: lots of projects, lots of learning. But it was also a fun month of events and press trips. A cruise out to sea—I billed it as the world’s fanciest U-turn—kept me away from the office, while Virginia’s Eastern Shore treated me to waterway adventures in and around Chesapeake Bay, whereupon I ate all the oysters and clams. All o’ dem.

I also drank unreasonable amounts of Beaujolais Nouveau; tasted bottle after bottle of my favorite, grower Champs; watched robots fuck up a Cosmo; spent an extended amount of time with my boo-thing; ate more charcuterie than is socially acceptable; drank Barolo; shaved real truffles; and generally lived my life like a big fat dynamo.

And for that, I am grateful. I live a weird life where I get to drink and eat, and write about it and photograph it and then do it again. My cup runneth over; I am aware that what I do is special. Envy-inducing. Kinda nuts. It’s something I think about often, if not everyday. “How the hell did I get here?!”

I don’t take the opportunities I’ve been handed lightly, and I love my life beyond measure, because for the most part, I’m doing what I can to live up to its crazy kinetic potential. Not to mention the crazy amount of love, talent and friendship I share with friends, family and colleagues.

I’m fucking lucky. I strive to be the last person to forget that. Cheers.