Incubating the Time Away.

Someone came in the other day and we were talking about Cave things, Cave secrets, maybe. Which exist. And she said, you should write a book.  This has been suggested before, and considered.  Though there ARE some pretty good Cave secrets, in the 10 years your Resident Troglodyte had been amassing them none are SO salacious, and so aplenty, to warrant a book.  Maybe a pamphlet.  A zine could work.

The second blog post was January 31, 2009.  The first one, posted the prior day, was merely us announcing ourselves: our address and a few key words by way of surrounding neighborhoods. We still store wine for someone who lives in Hong Kong, but the guy in Holland moved to Florida. The people in Mexico are new. We have in the house Indiana, Texas, Arizona, Minnesota, and a different Florida. The guy who lives in Puerto Rico finally got his wine all there.

Yes, the blogging has waned.  After 10 years we've all settled into it. While life still happens here, the inspiration of it has normalized. Also, a lot about The Cave was about becoming. Anyone here circa 2006 walked into this.

Now it is this.

The building was renovated, the troglodyte was renovated, yes, lots of becoming going on here over the years. Right now, we simply ARE.

This is new, though. 10 years of empties, the place was starting to look like I might have a problem. Bottles piled and scattered and dusty, the bulk of them most generous donations to the cause. These are the bottles that ruined me. I finally got around to building a place for them, and also for the all the beer empties that were sitting on the top of the hall rack, so deep in the dark you couldn't see them. Unlike the wine, most of these were emptied by their owners. The gnome was a contribution, too, via The Izzy. Our Guardian Gnome.

I found the rack pictures on the desktop and never used them, so here they are.  I also found these pictures, all of a stash of wine from a locker that was turned over. We've turned over a few lockers in recent years, some an abandoned mystery, others owners who were ready to let go. When Suitcase Boy took over the contents of one of them, he handed me a box of dubious leftovers.  Well, HE called it that.  All but one bottle was so magnificent I am certain he was being coy with grand generosity.  The one finally educated me what a corked wine tasted like.  Wet newspaper, just like they say!
(*click on images to enlarge*) 
P.S. I don't actually care what old wine tastes like, just look how beautiful those bottles are.

After editing this picture I actually saved it as "1967 Heaven"

Also hanging out in the files doing nothing were these two pictures, recent enough. I believe they fell open one Saturday, though I can't be sure.  My condolences to the gentleman who lost them. I vaguely recall they may have been curious and delicious.

Yes, The Cave continues to settle into itself in ways that both are and are not the same; the wine here is not the only thing that continues to incubate gracefully. Cheers.