No, I didn’t stop drinking wine––you would’ve felt the great disturbance in the Force, as if millions of wine salespeople suddenly cried out in terror, and were suddenly silenced––and I didn’t fall off the face of the earth. But I did get a new job, and with it, a bit of a hectic rush to get my ducks in a row.*
I’m the new web editor at The Progressive, a national magazine that has been covering American politics with an interest in pacifism, civil rights, education, and environmental protection for over a century. Some of the greatest names in American literature have graced The Progressive’s pages, and to be on its masthead is truly a dream come true. Oh, and former Progressive editor-in-chief Erwin Knoll used a Royal typewriter that, based on my limited typewriter research skills, appears to be a 1930s-era model. I know because it is sitting in my new office, where I can’t tell if it’s nodding a quiet, solemn encouragement or side-eyeing me hard and grumbling about my music.
I’m proud of The Progressive’s history and can’t wait to be a small part of it. The social justice issues nearest and dearest to my heart––racial equality, LGBTQIA rights, reproductive freedom, and labor rights––are all central to The Progressive’s mission, and I’m excited to see what the next year brings for us.
I’ll still need an outlet for my wine passion, however, so the blog portion of this site isn’t going anywhere. My WSET study group took a bye week but continues next week with Hungary and Greece, and we’ve enjoyed delicious bottles from Beaujolais (really) to Wehlener Spätlese riesling. Tonight, though, a little bubbly is in order.
Cava is just about everyone’s go-to inexpensive sparkling wine, and I’m nothing special––I’ll put a bottle away with breakfast on Thanksgiving. While I wouldn’t necessarily seek out this particular bottle, which I grabbed at the local Jenny St. Market, in the future, Castillo Perelada Brut Reserva did the job for $12. Delicate florals and fig notes with a slightly bready, nutty finish made it a nice quaff for a well-earned toast.
*Apparently ducks actually do line up in a row at night. I discovered this just recently––yes, as an adult––when crossing the Yahara River bridge in Madison, and it was about as charming as I’d always imagined.