this afternoon i decide to order the portugese vinho verde, like the kind you are serving at your wedding at the end of the month, on the other end of the world. i am sitting by the window in one of those comfy lounges in now transformed gastown, lined with antique shops and unique clothing stores, slightly resembling greenwich village but without the hustle bustle of that city. it's a glorious thursday afternoon--haven't seen one of these in almost two weeks. and i believe i'm sitting by the heater or something, because it's rather warm. even the setting is warm, with red brick wall behind me, and the chairs are upholstered in rich brown and orange. they play quiet blues on the stereo system.

so my green wine arrives in a jar. i let it sit. the sun comes through the window and reflects off the glass. it's almost green. i wonder if that's why it's called vinho verde. i make mental note to look it up later on the internet. the middle-age man two tables down talks about the five weeks he spent in thailand on a fishing boat. i glance up and smile, thinking of fun times.

life is funny this way. you blink and it's a whole different scenery. you blink once more, everything is different again. this makes me smile, too.

i take a sip of the green wine. it smells like sweet grass, and tastes like tender, budding grapes. new, refreshing, and easy. i like your choice. you did always know how to pick your wines. cheers.