Here we all are, then. We’ve made it this far through the winter, but somehow still find ourselves staring at its gate, chain wrapped around the posts with no signs of compromise.
Though your rollers by now are blossoming with salty crystalline formations, and your VHS copy of American Flyers has worn far beyond a simple tracking adjustment, here at Superissimo World Headquarters, the chianti flows merrily. Like good soldiers of the vine, we show up for our jobs minutes ahead of our coworkers to stock the bathroom’s drop ceiling with canteens of red gold. Our desk drawers are flush with the accoutrements of a winter vino warrior: embro-saturated knee warmers, the bibs we keep forgetting to take home, White-Out bottles geniously refilled with – you guessed it – Chianti, and to mask the smell of such on-the-job-training? Cool Water, by Davidoff, of course.
Hold fast, shipmates. The word now is whittle, but in no time we’ll be chopping wood again, hammering it out for the Fatherland in the warm sexy warmth of the warm spring. I’m anticipating the reemergence of vegetation almost as much as I’m anticipating the switch to Rosé.