Starbucks

Every Friday morning on my way to see my Therapist, I drive through downtown Geneva. There is a Starbucks right on the main thoroughfare that beckons me inside during that early morning hour (usually 6:30AM for my 7:00AM appointment).

As the weeks past, I started noticing something about this particular establishment but couldn't put my finger on it. Then, my Love (who visits the same Therapist later in the morning at a more respectable and, might I add, comfortable hour, and frequents the same coffee shop) pointed it out to be very clearly.

The people who work there are happy.

Not only are they happy, they are downright full of joy.

Not only are they full of it, they want to share it with you!

A few weeks in a row of mirth I can understand. Perhaps through the holiday season, ok. But I see the same men and women week after week and darn it if they aren't the most sincerely cheerful pleasant group of people I've ever seen on "that side" of the counter.

Mind you, I still refuse to tip them.

The other Friday I arrived even earlier than usual and read a book for awhile while I sipped my Venti Americano (suggested by my Therapist. No, not for mental health, just because it is good strong coffee; half espresso / half steaming water, all good. Perhaps she saw something positive in the fact I only drink strong black coffee with nothing in it except the occasional charred bit of my lip singed off from an impatient too soon sip.)

This day, I saw an older gentleman sitting there engrossed in the day's headlines sipping some sort of frothy concoction. You could almost feel the contentment exuding from him. Plus, he was vigorously digging into an old half gallon container of cottage cheese which this morning contained his breakfast. I am not sure what it was he was eating, but I can only describe it as a gray, grainy, lumpy glop. Not exactly descriptors you'll find on the side of a cereal box.

The next morning in my Wall Street Journal on-line, I read a book review of "How Starbucks Saved My Life". An executive loses his job and family and finds redemption selling coffee. Here is a link to a story on this in case you are interested:

http://www.usatoday.com/life/books/excerpts/2007-09-17-starbucks-saved-my-life_N.htm

I can't give you the link to the WSJ story because it is a pay site. So there.

So, the next time you sip your overpriced steaming vat of Swedish plasma, ask yourself this question, "What can I learn from these people?"

Or, as you are driving your car you can grab the cup too firmly as your Love passes it over to you for a sip and curse God and everything He has made as you careen wildly down the slippery busy street with the sticky hot mess splashing down your crotch.

The choice is yours.

Operation

One of the presents my six year old son "A" received for Christmas was the game Operation.

I actually played this game during my childhood, so it was with a strong sense of nostalgia that I engaged in a game of it with A last night.

The rotund cartoon character of a patient, Cadaver Charlie (real name Cavity Sam... I like mine better), still looks the same and much of the game is strikingly similar.

However, there are a few changes to the game that I played 30 years ago of note.

The first is the quality of the playing cards. When we played board games, a favorite winter activity in the frozen plains of South Dakota where I was raised, the cards were made out of the same material used in high quality decks of playing cards.

My two brothers and I played these games time and again, and they stood up to the abuse and are still playable today.

The playing cards in my new Operation game look and feel like they were printed in an old HP ink jet somewhere deep in the hinterlands of China. They may last through the end of this week.

At which point, we'll just throw the game away and buy another for $5 the next time we are at Target, right? I guess that is the point. I can't remember how much these games cost 30 years ago, but they must have been like $20 which at the time was worth more than two tickets to the movies.

Now Operation is a steal compared to the Venti seasonal sweetened Starbucks beverage I just spilled all over the interior of my car.

Play with it once, wipe your ass with it, flush it and move on, son.

Another change is the addition of Brain Freeze as a condition. This consists of a cute little ice cream cone lodged in Sam's head.

Brain Freeze is housed in a nice wide rectangular trough. The game piece even has a nice ridge on it for easy gripping. And, it is worth $600 to boot.

That is fucking Wish Bone money, man.

Even Charlie Horse is only $400 and have you ever tried to fish that fucking filly through the fingernail sized slit in which it sits?

Brain Freeze is the perfect addition for the lowered expectations and inflated praise generation.

One last thing. My son gets the cutest shocked look on his face when his tweezers touches the sides and lights the nose & buzzes the game board. However, he tries to keep his game face on and act like nothing happened, still going for the piece until I say something. Cute. Good competition instincts, I guess.

I'm thinking of rewiring the game to emit real life shocks (the beauty of being an electrical engineer is that is not an idle threat).

That might be the update this game really needs.

End of Christmas

As the day winds down, I realize I survived my first Christmas ever totally alone. I accomplished many of the action items I had set out for myself to keep busy, and had a nice 10.5 mile run during this bright and shiny, freezing day.

I ran in a forest preserve near my apartment and the terrain was sometimes muddy, sometimes frozen and often littered with horse manure (as these trails are used for excursions of the equine as well). I swear one load blocked my path like a giant boulder, I'd hate to see the horse that produced that baby.

Organization kicked in, I even went through a large container of cables and electronic equipment I've collected through the years. Although some of the connectors are rather outdated and esoteric, my stash does come in handy now and then. Like when I just set up a wireless network for my Love for the sole purpose of updating her TiVo over the air. Nothing like 6 year old electronic equipment to do that sort of job.

My hoarding instinct was strongly instilled by my father (especially of technical items), who is not only an engineer (and my inspiration for becoming one) but was also raised for a few years in a barn as his family recovered from losing their home on the farm and all their possessions to a tornado.

Just try winning an argument with your dad when he is packing that ammo.

"Dad, why can't I [insert desire here]?!"

"I was raised in a barn, son."

The next sound you heard was inevitably me shutting the fuck up.

My favorite accomplishment from organizing today was separating all the major cable types, binding each cable with a tie or strap of some kind, and then putting them together in gallon sized zip lock bags.

Hefty one zips, by the way. Yellow and blue make green, my ass!

I notice I now own two gallon bags of different colors and lengths of telephone cords. And yet, I don't even own a telephone. Makes you wonder.

I also finished my Christmas cards and will send them out tomorrow after I buy stamps. I do realize, thank-you, that today actually is Christmas but cut me some slack, ok?

I read all the incoming cards, and braced myself for the yearly tale of woe emanating from my parents. This year's did not disappoint.

Opening line: "We started and ended this year with the death of two people we love."

That is verbatim, baby.

My divorce was mentioned in a neat little blurb, and luckily the condemnation for rending asunder what god brought together was omitted. I applaud their restraint.

My final accomplishment was getting through the day without the crutch of alcohol. I celebrated by making myself a stiff Bloody Mary which I am enjoying as I pen this blog.

Oh. Yeah, right. Got me on that one.

Oh well, its Christmas after all. Here is the recipe if you are interested:

1 Cup Vodka (I prefer Ketel One)
1 Cup Bloody Mary Mix (I choose Mr. & Mrs. T's because they used to sponsor the Chicago Triathlon. How's that for brand loyalty?)

After those base ingredients, I slosh in some Worcestershire Sauce (Lea&Perrins) to brown things up a bit, throw in a huge glob of finely grated horseradish (enough to make the drink cloudy, like a bad urine sample), 10 shots of Red and 10 of Green Tabasco. Finally, I garnish with sliced jalapeno peppers and celery salt.

This is the drink that keeps on giving, believe me, so it is a perfect way to wrap up the holidays!

Reboot Christmas

My friend Sarah talked me into writing a blog after I regaled her with stories of the my fall from McMansion American Nightmare SITCOM to 2 bedroom apartment suburban divorcee dad.

Sarah is a blogger http://www.lottanothing-sarah.blogspot.com/ and I was inspired by her touching, funny and downright fascinating posts.

I am currently sitting in my 2 bedroom apartment on Christmas morning. The detritus of Christmas Eve strewn about my otherwise bare living room / office / dining room / bar. I just dropped off my children at their mother's house, as we split Eve and Day.

One thing I can tell you for certain, you always hear how there are no stores and restaurants open on Christmas Day. I always found that fact interesting and, I was sure, not 100% accurate, but I never before had the necessity to apply it to my life.

Now as I sit here polishing off not one but TWO sleeves of Hostess Crumb Donuts from the corner Gas Station, I can vouch for the veracity of the "no stores open" statement.

Luckily I have about a dozen brown bananas, a loaf of bread, jelly and peanut butter and some plain yogurt to get me through the day.

The main thing I am thankful for is, believe it or not, this is the best Christmas I have had in so many years... perhaps forever.

It is extremely difficult, but all for a purpose.

Hard reboot.