Dieter poured himself a glass of red wine and lamented the fact that it was no longer possible to buy that particular wine. “It was a good deal,’ he said, “at first it was $10.79 a bottle and then they reduced it to $9.79 but now they have discontinued it.” We settled on the front veranda, me with my book, he with his wine. It was a lovely evening, about a half hour after high tide and not a breath of wind. We watched the ocean begin its lethargic retreat. Dieter fell asleep. I left him there with his wine on the little table by his side, his chin on his chest. By the time he came into the house he had a new lament. A dozen fruit flies had found their way into his wineglass. However, being the resourceful fellow that he is, he solved the problem. He strained the wine through a coffee filter and left the flies to continue their drunken party in the filter on the kitchen counter while he settled down once again with his glass of wine.