Tag: coffee

Sunday Sprinkles

  1. Had an unsettling dream last night. Not a nightmare, but a dream that I didn’t understand. After writing about it, I decided not to share it.
  2. I watch the NFL. The refs fascinate me. Some of them seem like they’re so disappointed when they announce penalties. “False start, offense, number forty-three.” You can almost see him sigh. “Five year penalty,” is delivered with regret. “Remains first down.” I wonder what they’re like in their non-football lives.
  3. I said, “Don’t fear the android.” I was making a joke while re-watching Dark Matters on Netflix. My wife said, “Oh, that’d be a good book title.” It has me thinking.
  4. Several of my wife’s friends encountered her this past week. Always masked and distanced. They emailed her later. One said that she started crying in her car afterward because it’d been so long since she’d enjoyed a friendly, spontaneous conversation with someone outside their pod. Another said that she teared up after dropping off holiday goods on the porch (and picking some up from us, which were awaiting her on the porch). Human contact is so random and remote.
  5. My cancer-inflicted friend is out of the hospital and back home. Friends are calling him to wish him well. I want to do so but I’m terrible with small talk. Not good with the phone. Terrible with socializing in general. He stays in my thoughts but I should call. I’m probably overthinking it.
  6. Likewise, the cancer-affected friend across country is out of the hospital and at home, going through treatment there. We exchange messages but I sense his energy is low. He was always such an upbeat, energetic person. He’s my age, too, which amplifies the impact, right?
  7. It is interesting, maddening, and shocking to witness what friends are doing in other parts of the country. Social distancing and masking isn’t part of their routines. Some have even gone in for elective surgery. One is dating. We respond, WTF? And we worry about them, but they remain blissfully ignorant. Come on, vaccine.
  8. Meanwhile, two other relatives have been diagnosed with COVID-19. One was intubated on Friday. She’d gone in for elective surgery on a toe earlier in the month.
  9. My broken left arm continues its recovery process. It sort of becomes entangled and stiff at night as I bend it under my body. But reach, movement, flexibility, and strength are all improving. One frustrating thing: scratching. I still can’t bend my left hand to scratch my back and several other (ahem) places.
  10. My wife didn’t make us a soup last Sunday, the first time in weeks. Holiday baking occupied her — and the kitchen. I did my part; my role is decorating. I was disappointed with the gels and frosting. It blobbed and sputtered. They were okay, but not great. That’s about half of the batch. They’re PB Rice Krispies bars dipped in white chocolate or chocolate bark, more like a candy bar than a cookie. (That’s them in the photo.) She also made peppermint cookies and my favorite, cranberry cupcakes with drizzled frosting. Today’s soup in progress is a smoky lentil with garbanzo beans. Chilly day, in the forties, diluted sunshine. Looking forward to it with some hot buttered ciabatta bread.
  11. I thought writing was going well. Then I read a paragraph last night which had me wincing, groaning, and gagging. Press on, finish the draft, then come back, right? Yeah. Got my coffee. Time to write like crazy, at least one more time. Oh, yeah, and the soup is ready.
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Saturday’s Theme Music

Today’s sound choice was inspired by waiting for my coffee. It takes so long to brew, like, minutes. Exasperating.

Not the first time this has happened with this song, “I Want A New Drug”, a 1984 song by Huey Lewis and the News, and this situation. When I was in the military after the song came out, staggering into the briefing room at miserably dark o’clock, I thought of this song many times. Of course, I understand that it’s not really about drugs. I sang about it in that context, too, when I was job hunting, or thinking about changing cities, states, or my role in a company. It’s a good song for that purpose, for capturing your frustration about here and now, and spinning a vision of what you really want.

Hope you enjoy this tune. Stay positive, test negative, and wear a mask. Get the vaccine, too. You know the one I mean.

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Coffee Time

Our bodies are worn

Our minds are weary

Our eyes are tired

Our vision bleary

Our muscles are strained

Our backs are bent

Our knees give out

Our energy is spent

Our memories fade

Our thoughts will wander

Time for coffee

To sit and ponder

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Wednesday’s Theme Music

“What do you want? What do you want?”

I was singing it to myself and the cats. One cat was keeping pace with me; he definitely wanted food. The second cat (Boo) wanted a hiding place. Boo knew that my wife was setting up her Zoom exercise class. He doesn’t like the voices, music, and moving around. Boo likes it calm.

I wanted coffee, though, so I was singing back, “I want black coffee,” as my next verse.

It was all being sung to “Rock of Ages” by Def Leppard (1982). Let’s give it a lesson. Remember, “It’s better to burn out than fade awaaay.”

Def Leppard Rock Of Ages (Remastered) – YouTube

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The Swat

I’m on my knees, typing at my desk.

The cat is asleep on my chair.

It wasn’t so planned. I’d been typing when I raised my coffee cup to my lips and discovered it empty and dry.

No coffee.

But I had plans, and they included coffee.

Damnation.

I got up and went into the coffee to make more. When I returned, the cat had taken my chair. Curled up, he looked asleep.

Could that be right? I’d been gone two minutes. He’d taken over the chair and gone to sleep in two minutes? Yes, I was suspicious.

He’s done this before, so I know the routine. I moved the chair out of my way (the cat didn’t move anything during this — not a whisker, not an ear, not even a tail twitch), dropped to my knees, and resumed my activities.

When at last I was did, I stood and stretched. Now I needed water. Turning sideways, I slipped past the sleeping cat on the chair, my back to him.

That’s when I farted.

It wasn’t anything dramatic, just a loud burping noise.

That’s when the cat swatted me.

I stared down at him. “Did you just swat me?”

He was looking up at me. I swear that he looked defiant. I thought, he’s been planning this. He’s been thinking, I’ve had enough. The next time that he farts in front of me, I’m going to swat him.

I glared at him. “I don’t fart that often.”

Rearranging his paws, he lowered his head and closed his eyes.

I think he looked smug.

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Wednesday’s Theme Music

Despite the feeling that I’m walking on broken glass that I’m having (thanks to the presidential elections in the U.S.), I woke up feeling terrific and eager for the day (with a caveat that I told myself, just ignore the news for a while).

But, hey, man, I had a sweet sleep after a pleasant day. The wife had made pumpkin dougnut muffins (mmmm). I tested them with my coffee. And yes! They went great! (Might need to have another…or two. Hey, they’re minis.)

And coffee! Got coffee! I feel it coursing through me, kickstarting my heart, firing up the old neurons and synapses…

Ahhh, coffeee…

And then there is the sun and sky, with the autumn foliage, a gorgeous and uplifting sight.

Now, given how 2020 has gone thus far, I expect (and am bracing myself) for calamity. (I know, such a pessimist, yeah?). Oh, yeah, did I mention writing? Going fabulous (knock wood). I have that weird feeling I get when I begin realizing, hey the tale is coming to an end. It’s pleasing, because, accomplishment! But then, it’s sad because it’s an entertaining ride, a diversion from everything else that stirs rants, frustrations, and irritation. Hey, I would claim it’s because I’m a crotchety ol’ man (I am in my sixties), but really, I’ve been this way for the better part of three decades. Guess I turned old and crotchety early.

Today’s song streamed into my head without problem. Here’s Love and Rockets and their 1989 song, “So Alive”.

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Thursday’s Theme Music

Okay, take me to court. Today is a repeat from 2017. Sue me.

I awoke with Billy Idol blasting “White Wedding” into my mental stream. I knew I’d posted it before and looked it up.

It was a brief post pre-NC (novel coronavirus).

But, then, naw…”Rebel Yell” began streaming, and quickly segued into one of my favorite Billy Idol tunes, “White Wedding.” “It’s a nice day to start again.”

It’s cooler today, with a projected high of just eighty-eight under clear blue skies. Definitely a nice day to start again. Here it is, Billy Idol, from nineteen eighty-two, when I was just a wee man of twenty-six years. Boy, what would need to be sacrificed to be twenty-six again, hey?

Which is exactly where my mind is today, you know, the start again part. It seems like we’re always starting again, beginning again. You clean the house, and then it’s time to clean it again. For me, it’s the bathroom and the yard. Did the front yard on Monday, went polished the wooden cabinets in the kitchens and bathrooms, and polished the furniture in the master bedroom. Now it’s, clean the bathroom, vacuum the office, and work on the back yard.

Oh, yes, and there’s writing.

“It’s a nice day to start agaaaiiinnn.” Right after I have a cup of coffee. Maybe two.

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Monday Miscellany

  1. Dreamed that I was concerned about a young cat. Young, I was busy working somewhere. Constantly watching over it, I kept worrying about it having food, enough to eat, and being safe. In an odd moment in the dream, as I turned to go down a hallway and check on the cat, I thought, the cat is me. Strange dream moment. The entire dream had a quality of peeking into a different version of my existence.
  2. In the same dream, interspersed with my concerns about the cat, my cousin, Rick was planning to take me to meet his son, Danny. Like a recurring gag, Rick would appear and ask me when I was ready to go. I’d be blank: “Go where?” Then I would remember, “Oh, that’s right, to go meet…” Then I’d blank on the name and he would supply, “Danny.” Once best friends, I haven’t seen this cousin in over twenty years. We drifted into different directions, as they say. He had a son who I’ve never seen. I don’t recall the son’s name. He divorced that young woman within months of her giving birth to his son. I don’t know what all this means.
  3. An Uber self-driving car has killed someone. Uber isn’t being charged. Thinking, shades of Isaac Asimov, I conjured a story where a person is set up to be killed by a self-driving car.
  4. My wife was reading about “Death Wish” coffee. She thinks it might be a coffee that speaks to me. She reading aloud some hilarious Amazon reviews. “I bought this to keep me alert and focused at work. By my second cup I no longer needed a keyboard or mouse, as I was able to control my computer directly by thought. By the third cup I could hear colors and smell sounds. After my fourth cup, I decided to burn off some of the excess energy with a quick jog, and ended up finishing the Kessel Run in 11 parsecs flat!” Another: “Dear Death Wish, I just tried your coffee after receiving it the other day. I always start my day with about 4 cups so I thought, “Eh, why not”. After about the 3d cup I decided to start that kitchen demolition I had been wanting to do. But I forgot to turn off the water beforehand. Then I thought, “Eh, I always wanted an indoor pool”. Then I thought I should cut a hole in the roof to accommodate a skylight for the pool. Everything is going to plan but I need more coffee now. I need to start on installing the diving board.”
  5. Some serious crazy is seeping out of the GOP. Renea Turner calls herself “Trump in a skirt”. (I wonder if she grabs men by their peckers?) A woman who ran as a write-in candidate against Ohio Governor Mike DeWine in 2018, she declared herself governor of the state because she’s decided that DeWine overstepped his legal authority. She’s been implicated in a plot to kidnap and prosecute Gov. DeWine. This is at least the second such plot against a governor revealed in the last thirty days.
  6. We heard about twenty-three year-old Ryquell Armstead this weekend. Who is he? A professional running back with the Jacksonville Jaguars, he’s been out with COVID-19 the entire season. Quoting ESPN.com, “Armstead has been hospitalized twice and has suffered from a variety of complications connected to the virus, including significant respiratory issues, and has been hit harder than some expected.” That’s the issue with COVID-19: you don’t know how it will affect you. He is Black, and we know that Blacks are more susceptible, but he’s also young, and a trained athlete. It’s scary what the virus can do. He’s expected to recover and play next but the obvious caveat is that he was never expected to be out this long and have the complications that he’s experienced. As former New Jersey governor Chris Christie discovered, having COVID-19 can be a painful and exhausting experience, even if you survive. He, who did not wear masks all the times, is now a convert and urges, “Wear a mask.” I agree.
  7. My fiction writing continues to come along but it’s fitful process. As noted before, I miss the structure I created with my routines. I also miss the solitude said routines created, along with the stimulation caused by casual contacts. But I persevere because I’m stupid that way, and the tale that I’m discovering continues to entertain me. Time passes so swiftly each day, though. I find myself wondering what happened to the hours. Got my coffee, though, so it’s time to write like crazy, at least one more time.

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