Goodbye Yellow Brick Road

You know me, readers. You know I believe there's a bottle of wine for every occasion, every situation, every generation.

So, then, you're probably wondering (and rightfully so) why I've posted a picture of a bottle of beer here.

This here is the last bottle of my husband's stash. He won't mind.

Because tonight, this particular libation seems to feel right. I don't know, I just couldn't come up with a "time to say goodbye" kind of wine.

Tonight was my last event at the Winery. The Last Supper, if you will. And for the record, I am a terrible goodbye-sayer. My inclination is to act cavalier and all like, "oh, yeah, I'll see you around" when I know deep-down that I won't see that person ever again. I probably act that way because I'm uncomfortable with the emotion associated with leaving. When I (or anyone, really) leave a place of work, there are those who don't care, those that feel obliged to care, and those that really are sad to see me go...and well, all those situations are awkward to me.

I prefer to exit like a thief in the night, quietly and unobtrusively. However, I realize that's a rather cowardly way to go about saying it. Most decent humans do it differently. And it's all good. It's probably an area I should try to gain some familiarity with. I mean, after all, life is really kind of a series of helloes and goodbyes, in many ways, right?

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To Thine Own Self, Be Food

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