Too bogged to blog

Oh, how I have dreaded this day, beloved readers. Not because I would be reunited with you, my faithful friends (and a sincere thanks to those of you checking in and asking after my whereabouts), but because I must face you, head bowed, tail between legs, sheepish shrug–the works. The truth is, I've been too busy to blog. I know, I know, it is the lamest possible excuse, but in this case it's true. At present, I'm juggling 5 clients, which believe it or not, is a lot for li'l ole me. Especially when each demands your attention, requests your presence on site, calls sporadically throughout the day for impromptu conference calls and decides to work late at night or on weekends "to get ahead".....friends, it's been a bleak few weeks. Made less bleak now by your shiny, smiling faces (as I imagine them) and the generous glass of Syrah at my side.

If we've not talked about it before, I favor Syrah and Rhone-style wines. I like an old-world, earthy red with some tannin and easy fruit. The older I get, the bursting-berry, jammy wines of my 20s now make me pucker and shudder. Even Zinfandel and Pinot Noir often taste too sweet to me–which is a sad state of affairs, since they were long my go-to varietals. But here I sit, in the twilight of my youth, waxing oenophiliac on the more mature wine I'm savoring–a taste less sweet, less playful, more simple and straightforward–just the thing for what ails me (the prospect of repeating the client cycle tomorrow)....

The other factors that soothe me presently are the roasty autumn dinner smells filling my kitchen and taunting my hunger: pork chops, sauerkraut, roasted apples, butternut squash and mac-n-cheese. I know, it's a motley mash (especially that last), but it's an homage to coming autumn, which feels tonight to be on my doorstep. I'm even at this moment contemplating building a fire. It's only September, but the weather foretells the imminent arrival of my favorite season, and all the foods that follow. Tonight I'll taste my faves.

Also of note for its happiness-inducing effect is my birthday this coming Sunday. I suppose I should be lamenting the number 36, which admittedly shocks me when I see it written, but really I'm comfortable in my skin and happy for my years of experience (though I imagine my sisters and parents chuckling at this imagined wisdom from one they still call the baby). I love my birthday and take it as a time to reflect on all I've seen and done and most importantly, the friends with whom to celebrate. This year, many are traveling, but that's not stopping us from having a movie marathon at my friend R's pad, the now illustrious Hive.

There's so much to say, so much food to blog (remind me to tell you about our meal at Ame and our chance seating next to Al Gore), so much to look forward to in coming weeks (Rufus Wainwright at The Hollywood Bowl performing Judy Garland's entire Carnegie Hall set and The Waterboys at the Fillmore). And of course I'm antsy to blog all the yumminess that has crossed my palate and filled my dreams in the recent (gulp) month or so I've been away. I'm finally resurfacing and I promise to dive back in this week. Forgive this less-than-meaty post and know I'll be back shortly with lots of tasty anecdotes.