To drink the Malbec is to roll the dice, and yet I drank. Grand Haven MI.

I haven't drank Malbec since the beginning of August. August the Seventh fell on a Sunday and I was listening to music in the back patio of Everyday People, Saugatuck. I rarely order wine by the glass myself. Usually my waitperson knows what is good and open. So I let my handsome waitperson pick out my pour. And he brought me a Malbec, around ten dollars the glass. I was uncertain what that meant. The Malbec had impressed me as being more than a red wine, far beyond the Syrah and the Cabernet in wild card powers. I was not meeting someone new that night surely. And I didn't. I pondered my life and wondered what it meant that the Malbec had shown up. I am a cynic and a skeptic and yet I still have an intuition of powerful and hidden forces working when the Malbec stem appears. And usually it means that something good and rare is about to happen. So it is unfair to compare the Malbec to a negative premonition.
It is not the Malbec's fault but on the next day, the 8th of August, my father passed. I could have dialed him up on my cell and talked to him on more time, maybe heard in his talk an indication of symptoms. Suffice to say, I am looking at everything profoundly right now.