On a rainy Sunday, we continued the exploration of our new city by visiting the Mint Museum. Cubicle Charlie and I both love a good wander through a museum — a pastime that I am hoping the bambino will want to get in on. Traversing the early American art section, I was reminded of how many centuries of people have claimed to know the world. The map that I studied in grade school is vastly different from the one hanging on the museum wall.
People used to worship this chap.
And this Aztec beauty used to have turquoise eyes.
Even today, we live on one planet, but across it there are millions of worlds. History proves that nothing is permanent — whole cultures are watered down or washed away, entire empires rezoned and renamed. I will spend a lifetime attempting to understand my own world, which is forever changing. This sort of realization creates a panic, as it has for the countless other unfortunate souls who dwell on impossible notions. What is there to hold on to?
For me — there is this chair, in this home, in which I sit to write. There is the man who shares the mortgage payment. There is the dog snoring on the couch, the family that first opened my eyes to this world and the friends who make it so fun to live in. There is every cause I believe in, every meaningful word, every moment of peace and every daydream. There is the tiny heart beating alongside my own and any other beautiful thing that has yet to reveal itself, in its own time, as long as I never stop exploring.
Tap tap!Is this thing still on?!
It has been quite a while — no doubt some people are receiving an email update from a blog they forgot they subscribed to. I did receive a comment a while back from a “Cubicle Charlie” reminding me that I did, in fact, own a blog, and as such, I should probably post on it. (I have a sneaking suspicion that Cubicle Charlie is actually my husband, who neither works in a cubicle nor is named Charlie). And now… well… New Year resolutions and all… it’s time to do (almost) like the Black Eyed Peas say and get restarted.
Part of the trouble was the scope, which I am attempting to revisit. Blogging at a regular rate proved arduous within the structure I had originally defined. I am motivated to make this space more inclusive, more accepting (or possibly forgiving), encouraging me to post when and what I am inspired to. The fact that I am five months pregnant has brought this issue home for me, as still I feel the urge to express, if not imbibe.
Having said all this, the fundamentals have not changed: this is a blog about life and wine. Wine represents the beautiful — the fine — parts of life. I want this blog to have the effect of a bold red, a crisp white, a sentimental rosé or a brooding port. I pour myself a glass of life!
With that, let’s return to black eyed peas. Having moved from Chicago to Charlotte last spring, I consider myself a beginner student of Southern culture, and so far it has been an eye-opening education. I learned too late, for example, that it is customary to eat black eyed peas at the new year — the shelves had been cleared by the time I went around to the grocery stores last night. So to honor the tradition as best I can, I am serving some up with this first post, hoping they bring luck in all that lies ahead. Here’s to resolutions and ruminations in 2014!