Tag Archives: coffee

June 29, 2010


Pretty exciting morning here at St. John’s Infirmary.

I went outside to the back patio to enjoy my morning coffee in the cool of the day and was escorted by my personal feline security, Sinatra. Cunning predator that he is, he checked beneath all the nearby shrubs and bushes for any threatening squirrels, birds, crawling things or other evildoers. As cool breezes greeted the (7 a.m.) dawnings, he scampered and cavorted in the dewey grass, making sure I was safe from the swarm of gnats that hovers over the lawn. When he came to my ankles for his obligatory scratch between the ears, I knew it was safe to go in for a second cup.

Ordinarily, I’m serenaded by a particular male mockingbird in the mornings and again in the evening, but as I settled in with my second cup I noticed he was down the block today. Instead of his melodious morning concert, my yard was invaded by a raucous bluejay mafia making the territory their own. These four thugs of the sky didn’t need no stinkin’ badges, I’m tellin’ you. They clearly had no fear of me — one took the high lookout while the other three scoured the ground for anything that moved, each trading places from time to time. Later, these same four took notice of one of their second cousins twice removed, a crow much bigger than any of them, and they chased him from the entire neighborhood’s sky like World War II spitfires strafing a bomber. The bigger bird hadn’t a chance against these four blue ruffians.

I don’t drink as much coffee as I once did and I went inside for a true pleasure: I got to take a shower, wash my hair and shave myself all by my lonesome, just like a big boy. Even dried myself off with my own towel. Yep. Just like a grownup, I’m telling you. Big advance over just a couple of weeks ago, so I’m pretty proud of that landmark occasion.

Before it got too hot, I went for my daily walk. I’m up to 8 blocks now. Continuous blocks, mind you, not four 2-block walks or anything like that, a real walk for eight straight blocks without stopping. Gosh, there’s no where from here but up, right?

I closed out the early part of the day with a rousing read of an international best seller of a thriller called … er … something or another by someone I’ve never heard of.

Well, that’s the day’s dispatch. Don’t want to keep up this pace since I know some of my older readers must already be feeling the angina from the excitement.


January 7, 2009


Evil Empire Starbucks

Evil Empire Starbucks

As sometimes happens, I drop by the Evil Empire Starbucks to grab a cuppa to take back to work after lunch. Like any place that serves coffee on the north side of Oklahoma City I’m likely to see a few people there that I know, but not always. Sometimes I have to go next door to Saturn Grill before I see a face familiar. Evil Empire Starbucks is not like Sauced or the Red Cup in a lot of ways, but in some ways it is. Retired philosophers drink coffee wherever it is served, whether upscale or truck stop diner.


This day, on my way through the line, I found myself being served a grande hot chocolate (goodness! was it not a cold day?) by a lovely barista with whom I have often passed the time of day. Some of you may also know her. However, do you know her big secret? I do. She’s married to a hobbit that works for Ed in the bowels of Sauced.
Hobbit's wife

Hobbit's wife

On my way out, I paid obesience to the coffee codgers. The retired guys who know something just because they’ve lived through something. However, this was not something I wanted to hear particularly. We’re all going to die. Sooner or later, we all are gone from this life. This homespun philosopher, who should know from his vantage point of advanced age, reminded me that every moment, asleep or awake, Mother Nature is trying to find a way to get rid of us after the age of 40.
coffee codger

coffee codger

You know what? I don’t care how true it is, I don’t want to hear that. Just because MCARP says he’s ready to call it quits to middle age and start saying he’s “old”, doesn’t mean I have to do it. I am Peter Fucking Pan, baby, and I WON’T GROW UP. Don’t care what you say. We also talked along about how much time seems to pass faster after age 40. I got a theory about that. We experience time mostly through the observation of entropy. Because entropy has the upper hand after we’re 40, we “feel” like time passes more quickly because we see more entropy in less time than previously.
So, in the spirit of never growing up and highlighting my youth, what I did next of course is go to work where Mrs. Taylor, a teacher in her real life, gave me that “you are late to class and do not have an admit slip, young man, what am I going to do with you?” look as I snuck by while she was on the phone. Whew! Thought I was going to have to go to the principal’s office and get something really nasty put on my permanent record. Where do they keep those permanent records, anyway? Who keeps them? Who looks at them?

If your happiness depends on money
you will never be happy with your self.

Stephen Mitchell translation of Tao te Ching
Chapter 44


The helpful tax collector? IRS given power to cut better deals

The Milky Way’s Not Snack Sized Any More

A cool cat with blue eyes.  Call him Sinatra

A cool cat with blue eyes. Call him Sinatra

I guess I’m glad I fell asleep before I remembered to poo in his shoes, Muffy, because this dark he finally brought home the FANCY FEAST that I consider vital to my Way of Life. I made sure to put an extra layer of finest cat hairs all around the cuffs of his best black suit to show my appreciation and to make sure no other cats get near my guy. Hey! You Birds! Get off my lawn! Gotta run, Muffy. bye!