A Fortune, Wrapped in a Cookie, Inside a Winery



I had finally made it into the big time. I won the Monthly Wine Writing Challenge after my 5th painstaking entry, but I wasn’t ready for the trappings of success. Elated and under the influence of wine, Dolcelatte and celeriac-fennel bisque, I bought cars, jewelry, villas, exotic pets and uncomfortable shoes. I thought I had it good. I thought I was a “baller” (for my international readers, that is a term of hubris in the US – not one of buggery.) Until I hit the bottom of my barrel, and I was over oaked. I was deceiving myself if I believed I was the artisinal toast of the town. I was a Diet Coked-up, punctuality challenged phony in this diabolically friendly competition of utter comraderie. Who was I fooling? Not The Drunken Cyclist.

He and my other wine bloggy buddies staged a compassionate, discreet intervention on Twitter. Only days since my infamous #MWWC14 win, Drunko Cycle-Boy…

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