Boxed Wine

Friends are like a great box of wine.

Follow me on this one.

The past few months have brought some absolutely phenomenal people across my threshold. Friends from throughout my life have made the trek to our rural abode.

(I’m pretty sure the lakeside property doesn’t hurt, but I like to think my sparkling personality is the real draw.)


Our time is spent in epic cribbage tournaments, midnight grilling, boat adventures, dockside board games with Allen’s in our coffee, and soaking in Perseid’s showers from a canoe in the middle of the lake.

Never have I taken my incredible network of individuals for granted, but it seems this place brings out the best in them, and, I’m slowly finding, in me.

For a lot of reasons most of my cohort is in the midst of a tumultuous time in our lives.

Nothing seems very certain, and as jobs fail or succeed, school ends or begins, babies and weddings are side by side with sickness and funerals, we cling ever tighter to each other.

The gift of technology allows us to laugh at each others’ faces (literally), and see what Hans had for the ever-important meal between lunch and pre-dinner snack.

But nothing can replace the hugs, the jokes, the meals, the tears, or the mimosas.

And, luckily, we’ve found ways to be together. To show up when it matters, and almost more importantly, when it seemingly doesn’t. Like that trusty Bota box in our cabinet, my friends are smooth, reliable, and yes, young enough to make you cringe in the morning.

(Even Wine Spectator got off their prissy perch for once and gave it an 84!)

While we haven’t aged into a fine Bordeaux or found our perfect balance, I know we’ll get there. Together.


Dispatch this week to Hans – welcome back to ‘Murca ya dirty Norge!


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