I was at home yesterday, working in my office as usual, when the doorbell rang upstairs. I opened the door to see a screaming monkey in a red cape, jumping up and down and turning the occasional somersault. When the monkey saw me he stopped for a moment, and thrust out to me a package he was carrying. After I had the package in hand, he started screaming again, scratched himself in the manner monkeys are wont, and scampered off. Frannie Dobson and Cathy Gilbrander apparently had been chatting by the mailboxes on the side of the street when the monkey appeared at my door, and they were now staring at the monkey and me with expressions on their faces that you seldom have the chance to see on someone’s face and that you hope you never show to someone else, at least not to someone you care about.
I watched the monkey’s course as he took off across lawns and yards (that the monkey was a "he" was unmistakable due to the somersaults), thoroughly incited the Doberman inside the invisible fence in Frannie’s yard, disappearing at last into the green belt down the road behind Cathy’s house where I could hear his screaming getting fainter and fainter.
I was a bit taken aback by everything, and when I opened the package I muttered to myself, “Well, I’ll be a monkey’s uncle!” For there, before me, was a bottle of Villa Chiara 2011 Cabernet Sauvignon. “What a delight,” I thought. “We’ll enjoy this with the steak we’re going to be grilling tomorrow night.”
Unfortunately, the monkey apparently gave me something else as well, for I spent the afternoon today knocked down by a passing GI bug. Fortunately I’m back on my feet and while I’m not completely over it I’m feeling well enough to do some tasting in moderation. So I’m sipping and making notes as I complete some of the work that I didn’t get done this afternoon. I’ll probably have some notes to post in a couple of hours.