Down the Hall on Your Left

This site is a blog about what has been coasting through my consciousness lately. The things I post will be reflections that I see of the world around me. You may not agree with me or like what I say. In either case – you’ll get over it and I can live with it if it makes you unhappy. Please feel free to leave comments if you wish . All postings are: copyright 2014 – 2018

Archive for the tag “Coffee”

Somedays…

 

“HELLO, MY NAME IS JOHN AND I’M A LUMP”

“HI, JOHN.”

That’s how I would introduce myself at a meeting of “Lumps Anonymous.” Some days are like that. Yesterday was one.

I don’t want to say that I had a lack of energy, but I felt the need to put a mirror up to my own mouth just to be sure that I was still breathing. Rolling out of bed was easy. It was the getting up off of the floor that took a while.

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Throwback Thursday from August 2015 – “A Man’s Gotta Do What A Man’s Gotta Do”

Throwback Thursday from August 2015 

A Man’s Gotta Do What A Man’s Gotta Do

Saint ArbucksTHIS MORNING WAS DIFFICULT.

I got up at my usual time – 7 AM-ish and got my act together so I could leave the house without either scaring the neighbors or getting my butt arrested. Up to that point the morning was going along uneventfully.

My wife, the lovely and early rising today, Dawn, was already up and more or less “at ‘em.” She had an 8:30 appointment and set the alarm for some ungodly hour to ensure that she would not be late. I applaud her for that.

It was at this point that things began to go downhill like a Chevy with a faulty parking brake in San Francisco. I had my own appointment to see my Doctor at 11:20 AM.

11:20? 11:bleeping 20? What moron scheduled an appointment for that late in the day? Oh. Never mind. My bad.

The main reason I see this Doctor at all is because I have “Blood Pressure Issues.” That means that, untreated, my blood pressure tends to creep up to rival that of a charging Cape Buffalo. After that my head would explode, I would spontaneously combust and I would hit the ground like an overcooked baked potato.

By scheduling an appointment for that late in the morning it meant one very significant and overriding thing: I wouldn’t be able to have my morning coffee until after the appointment.

Dear God! Whatever will I do? Wherever will I go?

If I go ahead and drop by St. Arbucks for my morning coffee my blood pressure will spike like Vlad The Impaler on a bad day. I had doomed myself to a morning without my coffee. Sheesh!

My solution to this self-inflicted wound was to nurse along a cup of Decaf and hope that it wouldn’t rat on me when they wrapped that cuff on my arm.

I know what you are thinking –“Decaf?” That is just like kissing your sister. It is technically a kiss, but it’s not the same. It’s not like the Real Thing.

So, bowing my head in shame, I ordered the coffee that isn’t coffee and I skulked to my chair in the corner. The barista got a bit teary, The Usual Suspects – The Brotherhood of the Cup, stared and whispered to each other. Even the flies moved to the far side of the store, ashamed to be seen near me.

I sat there waiting for it to be time to leave. I sipped at the dark liquid, wondering what do they do to make it taste like that – and why, for Heaven’s sake. Why?

Deep in my heart I knew that I had a good reason for doing what I was doing. It was my health, my very life, which was in the balance. With my meds I had the blood pressure of an adult human male of my age. Without my meds no one within splatter range was safe. I was like a human paint ball. I didn’t want to mislead the Doctor with a BP reading that would be artificially goosed up by my cup of real coffee.

Some days you just have to take one for the team. Some days you have to lean in to the fastball.  If I had to pretend that the stuff in my cup was really coffee I would do it. I would hope that the stress of making this sacrifice would not, in itself, raise my blood pressure, but I would do it.

I had to think of my family, man!

I want them to be proud of me. I want them to see me happy. I want them to see me above ground.

Where Was Sacagawea When We Needed Her?

WE HAVE BEEN SPENDING A FEW DAYS OUT IN SAN DIEGO, CALIFORNIA. It is a lovely city with a great climate. I was, however, feeling a serious lack that needed filling.

My wife, the lovely and actively involved, Dawn, and I have been attending an annual church meeting/conference. While she is working hard I am here mainly to serve as “Arm Candy.” I can handle that.

Because my function is not really needed in Meetings, Seminars, and Committee sessions I have a fair amount of time on my hands. That is when things began to go south in a figurative sense. I needed some coffee and I was a stranger in a strange land.

Google Mars told me that there were several oases of coffee nearby – one of them a scant 0.2 miles away. One of the other conference attendees said that she walked there in 9 minutes – and she uses a cane.

I stopped at the front desk of the Marriott Something Hotel and asked for directions. The young lady on duty smiled constantly as she gave me specific instruction to steer me to the 0.2 miles away Starbucks.

“Just go out of the front door here and turn left. It is about a 10 minute walk. Would you like a cup of coffee right now?”

She must have had one of those Yeti gizmos stashed behind her desk. I took a raincheck on her offer. I wanted the real thing. All I had to do was to remember to “Go out of the front door here and turn left.” I could do that. I am a college graduate.

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Sailing On Lake Starbucks

 

WELL, I STARTED OFF TODAY IN FINE FORM. No sooner did I set my coffee down on my sacred corner table than I hit the straw and flipped the whole thing into the air and created Lake Starbucks on the floor.

What a dump.

I guess I’m off the Bomb Squad.

The Barista who had handled my transaction was quite pleasant, jovial even – not an easy trick at 6:30 AM. Her twinkling eyes and lilting voice disappeared when she was pushing that mop around trying to clean up my mess. So much for good customer relations. The look she shot in my direction when she finished mopping up my coffee could have melted plastic. I have a feeling that I am now on her “Spit in his coffee” list.

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Lord, It’s The Flies

FLIES! I HATE FLIES! FLIES HATE ME! We have a mutual Destruction Agreement. I try to kill them and they try to drive me bonkers.

With the advent of warm weather the fly population has skyrocketed. It’s either that or they are being imported from elsewhere to torment me.

Something must be done and yet some people say that it is my own fault. There are those who put the blame on the way I dress. I disagree. Flies are not attracted to my Hawaiian Shirts. Just because my shirts are brightly colored and floral looking doesn’t mean that flies are drawn to me. Hummingbirds maybe, but not flies. I could accept their theory if I was wearing shirts that looked like rotting meat or cow dung, but not a bunch of Hibiscus blooms.

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Listen To The Coffee

SOME DAYS I WONDER ABOUT OUR SPECIES. Not that we are inherently stupid – No, but rather I worry that we are too smart for our own good.

This afternoon I stumbled into St. Arbucks. I had finished running errands and I was looking for a cool drink and maybe a cookie. It was quite crowded when I went in so I was forced to actually share a table with another person. I hate that.

I managed to squeeze my svelte self into a seat at a table that was covered with new store merchandise waiting to be shelved and offered to the Hyper-Caffeinated customer base.

One item caught my attention: A Combination Coffee Tumbler/Wireless Bluetooth Audio Speaker.

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“A Blowtorch In The Wind”

WHAT IS GOING ON IN SEATTLE? It is still the middle of the night out there, but I’m sure that somebody must be at the St. Arbucks corporate wheel. For three days now they have been piping in almost non-stop Elton John songs into this store in Indiana.

Three days of an Elton John-a-thon and as soon as I mentioned it to the Barista here in Terre Haute (That’s French for “I’m Still Standing.”) the Elton John music came to a screeching halt and was replaced by something for your “Pickin’ and Grinnin’ Pleasure” – some serious country music with banjos and such. That lasted for all of ten minutes and then “Tiny Dancer” signaled a return to the Elton John Extravaganza. My guess is that whoever is the big Reggie Dwight fan had to go to the bathroom and his Cousin Lemuel, visiting from Grinders Switch, Tennessee changed the playlist. When Lemuel’s cousin returned from the Euphemism so did Mr. John.

After three days I felt that I had to take action. I was going to be Proactive! When it comes to music I’m not fussy, but still…three days?

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Leave Me Alone!

SOME MORNINGS I JUST FEEL LIKE SLAPPING SOME PEOPLE upside the head and down the other side. Not out of any anger, but as an attempt to get them to wake up and smell the coffee – the coffee that I am trying to drink in peace.

Almost every morning lately I’m in my corner at St. Arbucks and no matter how hard I try to ignore it – I cannot avoid hearing the conversations of other people. The problem arises when all they want to rant about is Politics and Politicians. I can’t think of anything that I want to avoid more at 6:30 in the morning. The sun isn’t even up yet, let alone me. At that time of day I’d prefer a little music or the voices in my head who tell me “knock – knock” jokes.

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Se Habla Coffee Aqui?

 

THIS MORNING I DISCOVERED ONE MORE ADVANTAGE to being a retired old Geezer. I am no longer fraught with the problems of making career decisions. All of that is behind me in the far distant past – and in a galaxy far, far away.

I came to realize this about myself early this morning as I was getting my coffee from a young (23) barista down at St. Arbucks. The young barista has recently finished college with a degree in Spanish. With that degree her job opportunities in Terre Haute (That’s French for “No habla Español aqui.”) are rather limited unless you had a minor in burrito making. So, this pleasant young lady has to make some hard choices – either move someplace for a job that can utilize her skills and education or get used to wearing an apron and a plastic name tag.

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Throwback Thursday From March Of 2015 – “Congratulations, You’re Still Alive!”

Doctor visit

Throwback Thursday From March Of 2015 – “Congratulations, You’re Still Alive!”

I WENT TO SEE MY DOCTOR this morning. I see him about every three months. He likes to keep tabs on me because of my high blood pressure and the veritable buffet of meds that I take.

The last time I saw him my BP was 120/60 – which is pretty darn near perfect for a human being. This morning it was 110/60 – a tad low. Compared to what it was a few years ago when I first went to see him, he is happy. Back then it was something like 180/170 – not bad if you are a cheetah chasing down a springbok, after having had a half dozen espressos and a pound of licorice.

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Je Ne Suis Pas Un Cheval

I SCARED A WOMAN THIS MORNING. I didn’t mean to. It was accidental and unintentional. If I’d meant to do it you’d see it on the 7 O’clock News. I was just trying to be polite.

It was early – too early, and not all of my societal filters were in place. You know, my Uber-Macho, Harley riding (if I had a Harley), Twinkle in my eye, self. I hadn’t had my coffee and I was little more than Organic Matter wearing shoes.

I had ordered my coffee from the Barista and I was lurching back to my seat in the corner when I was faced with a woman who was coming in the other direction. She had a carrier tray full of coffee.

“This town ain’t big enough for the both of us.”

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A Spider’s Got To Know His Limitations

ABOUT TEN SECONDS AGO a perfect example of Ambition and Confidence played out right in front of me. I was sitting here quietly sipping on my coffee when before my droopy eyes a teeny tiny spider no bigger than…than…than what you see in the picture of it next to my pen appeared. It was dangling from a silken thread.

This spider had seen me sitting here and thought, “I can take him,” and he lowered himself down from the ceiling.

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“No Shirt, No Shoes, No Plastic – No Service.”

 

FOLLOWING UP ON THAT BLOGPOST OF A COUPLE OF DAYS AGO…

I heard an interesting bit of semi-news, semi-advertising this morning. On the morning news it was awkwardly disguised as a Business Report.

The heavily caffeinated executives in Seattle have announced that Starbucks (St. Arbucks to you and me) is going to convert one of its stores in the Great Northwest into a “Cashless Store.” What they mean by that is that all transactions will be handled by credits and debits – no green pieces of paper will change hands –unless they are advertisements or Hold Up Notes.

When I was growing up a “Cashless Store” was one that was going out of business.

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It Is What It is

IT LOOKS LIKE ST. ARBUCKS HAS A BIG NEW ADVERTISING CAMPAIGN UNDERWAY. From deep within the secret laboratories in Seattle 91825 comes something they are calling, “Blonde Espresso.”

I have no idea what that means.

I do know the meaning of “Blonde,” and I know what “Espresso” is, but I don’t understand the pairing of the two.

Blonde Espresso? Is that like “Jumbo Shrimp” or “Governmental Efficiency?” The two words clearly seem to contradict each other. I’m a bit “Profused” as opposed to being “Confused.”

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Throwback Thursday from August 2015

Throwback Thursday from August 2015

 

Our Lady Of The Crosswalk

crutchesI THINK I SAW EVIDENCE OF A MIRACLE THIS MORNING.

I was driving down Wabash Avenue, heading toward home after morning services/brewing at St. Arbucks, when I stopped at the red light. It was then that I saw it.

Across the intersection at the crosswalk, leaning up against the light pole, I saw a single aluminum crutch. “Shades of Fatima,” I said to myself. “Right here in Terre Haute (That’s French for “What the heck is that?”).

Nobody would absentmindedly forget that they were using a crutch and just walk away and leave it there. Nobody would think that they didn’t need the crutch and just abandon it at the corner. It has to be a relic of a recent miraculous event.

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What Are You Gonna Do? 

DURING OUR STAY IN DEMOREST, GEORGIA, on the campus of Piedmont College I must laud high praise on the facilities and the very helpful staff – but I do have one minor, teeny-tiny, itsy-bitsy complaint. I say this knowing that I may be the only person here who cares about it. Excuse my reiteration.

In all of the literature from the college, bent on luring us all to come here, they gleefully state that there is a “Starbucks right on the campus,” in the “Commons” building by the bookstore.

Technically they have told the truth.

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Happy Hour!

LITTLE BY LITTLE, STEP BY STEP. The universe is starting to listen to me and take my suggestions to create a better world.

Example: 

This morning I pulled the Toyota into the parking lot at St. Arbucks and I noticed a large sign tied to a steel barrier by the front door.

Happy Hour at St. Arbucks? Two weeks when their “Frappe-whatevers” will be half price. Well, Yippee-ki- yo – I guess.

Leave your day behind. Forget the stress and strain of the job and drown it all in a pancreas shattering blast of sugar.

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Sunrise Monday Morning

IT’S 6:45 AM AND I AM IN MY USUAL WRITING POSITION – a corner table at Starbucks – with coffee and a pen. Like most other mornings I start off by checking the online news to see what mischief the world has been up to overnight, and then I look at my mail and lastly, Facebook.

What I see on Facebook is usually enough to launch my day and give me something to write about – but not today. All of my friends and acquaintances are either still asleep or busy monitoring their blood pressure.

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I Need A Time-Out

AS DAYS GO TODAY STARTED OUT LOOKING TO BE A GOOD ONE. The rains had stopped, the car got a free washing courtesy of “God’s Car Wash”, and I think I saw the sun trying to peek through the clouds.

According to the Weather Bunny on the TV today is supposed to be a dry day. I’m glad because later I’ll have to drag the recycling bin down to the curb for pickup later today.

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A Quiet Morning – Screaming Comes Later

quiet2ON A QUIET MORNING LIKE THIS ONE WHEN IT’S JUST ME AND MY COFFEE I can feel the tensions of Life sloughing off like frost off the car’s rear window.

It is 16° degrees outside, but I don’t mind it right now because it keeps some people at home and away from me.

These days it seems like most people are screaming – at one another, at the government, at the world, at themselves. When things don’t go the way they like they start to scream thinking that will make things better – “Better” being the way they want things to be. It doesn’t work of course. It never has, it never will.

Self-Delusion is so much neater than Reality.

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