Put on a big new sweater and went for a walk in the woods. The forest here is lovely, especially on cool, grey days like today. The trees hang heavy with fog and dew; mushrooms grow wild, their perfume almost overwhelming and earthy; spiky chestnuts rain down, still green. It's too soon. I took a path I had never been down, and it wound all around the backside of the mountain, over into a neighboring town called Brazzano. There's a castle there, and a church, and not much else. I listened to Niko Case, hopped over puddles.



Just as I had made it back to civilization, the sky burst open. Rain came in clamorous sheets, and I scrambled to stick my Ipod under my shirt. I had barely uttered an "oh, hell", when I heard, "Mereca'n"!

Looked to my right, and there was Fabio, Porchis proprietor and entrepreneur extraordinaire. Savior, also, apparently. He waved me into the big, metal gate that sheltered a garden I had often admired in passing. Even in the pouring rain the roses stood tall and proud, their colors not the least bit dulled.

I followed him and Simona, his girlfriend, into a gorgeous old villa. It had been in Fabio's distant family somehow, and just this year he has turned it into an agrotourismo, a bed and breakfast. Antique cherubs and oil paintings lined the stone walls, and the marble floor was etched with glistening golden details, olive branches and paisleys, a scene of a well; the type of decorating that people don't take the time for anymore. they had stopped in just to change a few light bulbs in the chandeliers, they said, and would be happy to give me a lift home.

The conversation on the ride home turned to my on-going job search, a search which is both open-ended and terrifyingly clogged, depending on how I decide to look at it. Fabio said he had meant to tell me, marketing! He could name several vineyards off the top of his head that are looking to expand their exports into America and the like.

Was funny he mentioned this, because just yesterday evening FL's dad came home and said the longest string of words to me that I have ever had the pleasure of receiving. He said, "Angoris wants to sell wine in America". FL took it from there, explaining that one of the larger vineyards in Cormons, Angoris, mentioned to his father (during a routine heater check-up or something, I imagine) that they wanted to begin selling their wine in America, and were looking for ways and people to help market. Obviously, I would be the perfect candidate.

So this morning I woke up bright and early-ish and began to write cover letters for my resume'. I found a template online, and was sure to write each one individually, personalizing them and stressing my qualifications for each post specifically.
Wish me luck!