Sunday, August 5, 2012

Guest Troglodyte Here.

In the vein of Jen's last post, and my own brief blog debut, I am compelled to raise the question of my own presence here (The Cave) and here (The Blog), and to tell a story. If you are concerned about your usual cave dweller, I say, don't panic.  I am only temporary.  If you like reading this blog but you are concerned that my story might be long and include no pictures...definitely panic.

I am honored to be here, and here.  And though this is my first day braving the blog, it is not my first day in The Cave.  If you visit, we may have met anytime in the past week or, with exceptional timing, on a rare occasion in the past several months, or even elsewhere.  Which brings me to Richard.

The first day that I spent down here this week was... quiet. Following a flurry of activity just before 2pm, during which I made sure that The Cave was completely open and dare I say perfectly ready for the wonderful, wonderfully eclectic, and deserving people who store wine here...nothing happened for oh, two and a half hours.  And then Richard blew in like a hurricane.

Before he had finished walking in, signing in, and opening the door of the Napa Room, I probably knew more about Richard than I know about Jen.  Why the immediate ease?  Perhaps Richard has a sixth sense for people that he has almost run into before, or spent a great amount of time vaguely around.  Or, he is just very forthcoming with everyone.

Now, Richard came prepared with many layers of clothing so that he could move stuff around in a 55-58 degree F. environment -

a moment for us to congratulate Richard's beer and wine collections, on their new cohabitation experiment

- for a long time.  Nonetheless, I felt compelled to check on him after an hour or so.  This check-up yielded, somehow, an entire ocean of facts, including this one, that Richard's daughter and I graduated from high school together when the Earth was young.  Because of the particular nature of our high school, we did so while wearing identical white dresses.  Even today, we know each other well enough, and have enough common friends, that I already knew that she was currently out of town, where, and why, before Richard was able to tell me about it.

 A moment, please, for us to wish Liz safe travels.

So, as I will not be the first to observe, it is a small world.  I am sure that I will, similarly, not be the first person in such a situation to wonder, which is more amazing? The unlikely connection that I just discovered with someone who was so recently disguised as a stranger, or the discovery thereof?

All of this to say that The Cave is a very special corner of the small world.

Also, thanks Richard.