Life at 3 miles an Hour

No Starbucks today. No beach. No comfy chair. No travelling at all actually at the moment. I do have coffee….my own, and I do have a fireplace…that is actually working, so all is not lost. Outside of my window, we seem to be locked in a snow globe that some persistent preschooler keeps shaking. If I was back on upstate New York right now, this would just be routine for an expected Christmas and we’d be settling in for a few more months of this. But I’m not there, I’m in Seattle where we’re not accustomed to this activity. It’s a novelty. At least it was a novelty when it began over a week ago. It was much like the first few times you shake a snow globe. The scene changes and the snow swirls and changes the landscape. You set it down on a table and get on your knees for a level “real life” view and watch as the swirl settles down to the bottom to decorate the landscape in sparkling white. It usually only takes a few shakes, at one sitting anyway, for the novelty to wear off

A day late due to the ice, but I’m just glad to be back down here this morning, even though the fireplace is not on. I promised my wife that I wouldn’t complain this morning about it, so it’s really just an observation. I wonder how it would feel to be enjoying this morning in Starbucks on the coldest, iciest day in 18 years with a fireplace that is actually working. I’m just wondering….anyway back to the cold and ice. It’s funny how, one of the most recognized stereotypes of Christmas, that being snow, can wreak so much havoc on a place that isn’t used to experiencing it at Christmas. I, for one, am thoroughly enjoying it, although I must admit the inconvenience in a place that is ill equipped to deal with it. After 3 days, our street remains a sheet of ice that 30 years ago I would have considered golden with a runner sled. Now I see it as a broken hip waiting to happen. I think that it is actually nice. It had added to the ambience of Christmas. It has forced us to slow d

I’ve returned to the beach this morning. Hearing the familiar sound of the waves and seeing my corner chair unoccupied helped me to feel that all is, once again, right with the world. If I could remove anything from this Starbucks experience and take it home, it would definitely be this chair. If I had one there I’d almost never leave. I can get better coffee and I can even get a better view, I’m really just here for the chair. Since I’ve last been here, B.S. (before surgery) it has become dark at the time I come by here. I don’t mind though since it gives me an extra shot to admire the holiday lights. This morning was especially nice for light observance as I had just finished watching some “high minded” people protesting religion on the steps of the capitol building here in the great state of tolerance. Tolerance here only comes for those whose ideas are in line with those being perpetuated at the time. Right at this moment it came in the form of what I’ll lovingly refer to as

Our tree went up on it’s appointed day. While others were doing battle in far off places like Wal Mart and Target, I was engaged in my own with boxes, lights and bows. It was a much different experience transforming this place into it’s Christmas wonderland. With my wife’s still limited mobility, she became the foreman and chief designer and I became the laborer. I would have to say that the working arrangements were better than any other place of employment. With different furniture after 8 years here, we now had a new setting to deal with and the hardwoods just seemed to make it even “christmasier”. Anyway, back to the tree. I love our tree. It’s lights are already built in and after years of stringing and bulb checks, I think that I’m quite entitled. After all, I’m sure that Santa has never dealt with his own lights so why should I? As I said, she was the foreman, I was the laborer, and the task was the tree. She unpacked the ornament boxes, handed them to me, and watched

Words aren’t coming very regularly these last few weeks. Even these ones have been stopped and started and deleted and continued several times this morning. I guess that I could come up with all kinds of excuses. Most of them might even be legitimate. I’m still not back to any kind of routine after my wife’s surgery. I thought about trying Starbucks this morning. I haven’t even been to the beach except for a brief drive by to get her some fresh air. At this point, I’m just being the over-protective husband. She’s much more independent. But I’ll give it one more week. Grad school has been draining during this time of schedule juggling, and we all know how important my schedule is. I haven’t really had one for three weeks now and that’s been an adjustment. Things have even been far from normal in my community o’ faith. So if I wanted to, I could find an excuse here or there. I just don’t want to….find an excuse I mean. I don’t even want to write to be honest. Today is a di

It’s been a few weeks since Starbucks. It may be a few more, I don’t really know at this point. Right now I’m sitting in front of my own fireplace (electric), drinking my own coffee ( Hotwire ), and looking out at the world from my own window. I’ve spent the past two weeks living as a shadow of sorts. Now living as a shadow can be seen in a very negative light I suppose. We’ve all heard the phrase “living in someone’s shadow”. That’s not a very flattering concept. Shadowy figures are usually looked upon with suspicion. Even Peter Pan was always trying to elude his shadow. For me it’s a bit different. I’m not living in someone’s shadow, I am their shadow. I have been my wife’s shadow. She had surgery two weeks ago on her foot and leg and we’ve been almost inseparable ever since. One of the benefits of a marriage, a good one anyways, is that you have someone to go through traumatic times with. You get to laugh together to be sure, but you also get to hurt together and you g

I’m a statistic today. I’m one of the undecided. I’m not very politically astute. I do attempt to be informed, but all of the misinformation clogs my arteries and muddles my mind. Do I really care which candidate has which solution to the current crisis, whatever it might be? I don’t. The reasons are fairly simple. Number one, I’m not naïve enough to believe that either candidate actually came up with said plan themselves. Number two, regardless of whatever plan you have to solve the “crisis du jour”, I don’t think for one minute that you can get it accomplished by yourself anyway. In our current political system, the president doesn’t really have much more influence than the Queen. I’m much more interested in congress than the president. Remember, it was the congress from both sides over many administrations who have gotten us to this point in our history. All the presidents have really contributed, in all honesty, are sound bites and state dinners. So I’m still among the

Something has been on my mind for quite awhile now. I’ve tried to resist it. I’ve tried to ignore it. I’ve tried not to engage it. I just can’t take it anymore. I am about to take on, once again, an old enemy that I had thought I’d outgrown. For any who have history with me, I’m sure that you’ve noticed a quietness about me on this subject. But now, it’s overcome me and the voices are loud again and I need to confront it head on. I am about to re-engage my one man rant against the purveyor of all that is bad in fast food, healthy food, comfort food, and every food that I can even think of. The mark of the beast in this case is “the golden arches”. I’ve tried to maintain my dignity through many of their past years assaults against human health, dignity and intelligence. I didn’t say anything when they brought in the, then in vogue, “wraps”. I looked the other way when they tried to pass themselves off with healthy salads. I bit my tongue when their big revelation was to actu

Today has been a stretch for me. It began with my alarm not going off, me sitting straight up in bed 90 minutes beyond my intended launch time and muttering the first word that came to my mind in the moment. It wasn’t a word that, most generally, one would imagine coming from the lips of a pastor on a Monday morning at 7:15. It was my word nonetheless . I really wasn’t bothered by it, as it seemed to fit the moment. I did feel bad that it was the word that my wife also woke up with seeing as she has no problem with 7:15am. In any event, this was the day I was dealt and I am handling it appropriately. I’m taking a break from it. So I’m at Starbucks on the beach at 1:30pm instead and I must tell you that it is a totally different experience, in case you were wondering. The mornings here are peaceful, with the possible exception of seniors who can congregate occasionally, and the occasional 2 year old that waddles around in pj’s. This afternoon is living proof of our economic dem

I’ve been wandering all week attached to a little magnetized card that identifies me as a guest in a Portland area hotel. It lets me in the building. It lets me in my room. It lets me in the hot tub room and the work out room. It is my lifeline into my home away from home this week. This morning, the magnetized part of my card failed. I lost my identity somewhere in between my complimentary continental breakfast and brushing my teeth. It really wasn’t that big of a deal. I’ve been here long enough that they think I’m on staff, so all I needed to do was to get it zapped and I was back on track with my schedule intact. It did get me to thinking though about all of the identities that I’ve taken on this week. I’ve been a commuter. I’ve been a student. I’ve been a customer. I’ve been a poor single slob, a husband, and then a poor single slob again. I’ve been a church “spectator”. I’ve been a dad by phone and by text. I’ve been a pastor by email and I’ve been a friend by Fac

My, how the years have gone by. I remember the days of toddlers and baby gates keeping little feet and hands confined to safe zones. I remember the day that my daughter, two years old and unimpressed, destroyed one that we had recently purchased, much like Godzilla on a stroll through Tokyo. Much older, any many garage sales later, I am back to employing a baby gate. No I haven’t violated my two hands two kids rule. Initially the gate was purchased to keep my son and daughter-in-laws puppy from eating from our cats litter box. These days it is being used to keep that senile old cat from relieving herself in inappropriate places. She has gone through 8 lives already and this is me being benevolent and not relieving her of her last one. This is a recent development. I guess these things become “developments” even for old people. Fortunately for humans, they make diapers in all sizes. Not so for cats. Several weeks ago, totally unannounced, she began to use our curtains and carp

I love this place. It’s going to be another exceptional morning. The sun is rising over the sound for the beginning of another amazing warm fall day. I love Monday mornings at the beach and I love my coffee. The little blond boy is bopping around in here again this morning, but this time he’s attached to the long arms of a very tall human. It was exceptionally busy when I got here. The line was to the door which was very odd for this time of the morning. It didn’t take too long to realize the reason it was so long. We seemed to have more than our share of high maintenance Seattlites exercising their perceived right to bizarre, never intended to drink, coffee made to order. One of the groups of people that I most admire are the baristas in this town. They have the privilege and opportunity to gracefully serve a clientele of some of the most sophisticated coffee palates on the planet……… Whatever……… It at least seems as much to those who consume their idiotic concoctions of

I’m running on reserve this morning. Actually, it’s the reserve tank on my daughters car, which I’m driving because I’m in a dispute with the State of Washington. My car failed its emissions test on Friday. Except for the fact that my car is easily the nicest and best running vehicle that I’ve taken through this ridiculous test in 8 years, and the only one to not pass, I’m not bitter. It is what it is. If they say that it’s a rolling case for global warming, who am I to argue. After all, I wouldn’t expect any less from the great green state of Washington than to be on the prowl for noxious offenders like me. I could even respect them for it. Until…. Until they gave me the explanation and the “packet of approved mechanics” which they recommend taking the offending vehicle to. Apparently, if you take your car to one of the mechanic mafia, spend “at least” $150 and it still doesn’t pass the test, then they will take pity on you and pass you anyway. My first question is, “what ki

This morning has to be one of my top 10 morning experiences since moving here. It is the start of a cloud free 80 degree early fall masterpiece of a day. The sun was rising red over the eastern mountains while a gigantic moon was fading over the snow topped western mountains. The ferries are steadily gliding over calm waters and there are even two tug boats already hard at work. The breeze is still cool and my grande drip is still very strong. I even seem to have missed the retirement club here. On my way down here I passed one of the neighborhood bus stops where people wait dutifully for metro to carry them off to the start of a new adventure in the world of the employed. I don’t know if it was the season that inspired me or the bus stop or a combination of both, but I had a flashback to elementary school and bus stops of my own. When I was growing up in upstate New York, I lived in a neighborhood sub-division, housing development kind of land. It was one of those places that

As long as I’ve been posting here, I am always wondering if I’ve already used a title for a previous post. Not today. I’ve never been 45 before so I’m kinda sure that this one hasn’t been taken already by me. Actually 45 came yesterday for me. I never really used to reflect much as these milestones passed. But I never really used to be this old before, no offense to those of you who wish for 45 again. It seems that lately I’m seeing more headstones than milestones. In fact, yesterday morning, upon reflecting on this new number, a black and white newspaper editorial cartoon kind of image appeared in my head, and the central focus of it was a headstone. I’ll try to give you a mental image of it so you can enjoy it as well. I was posing the question to myself, while in the shower where all great philosophical questions are asked, “What constitutes middle age?”. 45 seemed to be one of those great halfway numbers. So this image comes into my head. There is a giant headstone in th

This may be my last Monday morning at Starbucks for awhile. Howard and Starbucks haven’t yet come through with their promise of at least limited free internet and my 3 year pursuit of higher learning begins tomorrow morning, much of which takes place in an online environment. Therefore I will have to find both decent coffee and free wifi elsewhere. But that is the subject of another day. Today I’m thinking about chariots and hurricanes. I know that may seem an odd combination, but in my life they have come together once again. I’ll attempt to make it a bit more clear, in case you’re missing the metaphors. This morning, as I am writing this, another hurricane is coming ashore in New Orleans. My wife and I have spent two different weeks there after the last round in a limited attempt to help them rebuild their lives. It is still fresh like yesterday, walking through neighborhoods that will never be neighborhoods again and playgrounds where no one will be playing again. We worked

Coffee at the beach holds a different meaning for me today. Usually I’m more concerned about the coffee than the beach. Not today. Today, the beach is more than a location. It’s a metaphor. Gazing at the footprints disappearing in the rising tide, I think that I am able to understand a comforting lesson about our recent life changes. We just returned last night from taking my daughter to college in the high desert of Boise, Idaho. The trip lived up to the destination. It was high and it was 100 degrees. Mountains and sage brush are the realities there. Personally I prefer mountains and beach front, but that’s me. It wasn’t just a change of scenery for us though. It was the beginning of something totally different and totally inevitable. For my daughter, it’s a new life, with new friends, in a new room, with endless opportunities. For my wife and I, it’s a new life, with each other, with empty rooms, and a sense of loss and “where did it all go?”. We’ve already gone throug

You’ll have to excuse me from missing my Monday morning appointed blog time. Yesterday was 24 years for us. If you’ve been with me over the years you know that, as long as I’m here in Seattle, there’s not much that would keep me from Monday mornings at the beach. Even my birthday wouldn’t keep me away. My anniversary would though, and it did. No particular reason except that on this particular day of the year we choose to spend every minute of it together. We don’t work on that day. We aren’t apart on it either. This is non-negotiable. Neither of us would even consider being separated on that day. It has meant that we have spent the day together in some pretty unusual and interesting places. That wasn’t the case yesterday. 24 for us was a bit unusual though. We’ve been talking about it all year and yet it really took us by surprise. I spent last week beginning the new phase of my educational journey and this week my daughter begins the new phase in hers. Between those tw

So let me start this morning by telling you that I believe that there is a plan for my life. In fact I believe that there is a plan for every life, just as there is for mine. You may not believe this way and that’s okay, we can still be friends. I don’t think that the plan is an all inclusive set of detailed blueprints like you’d find at a Donald Trump construction site. In my way of thinking, it’s more like an IKEA set . You know, the big picture, I’m not really sure what this is saying in Swedish, kind of plan where you can get a general idea of what is being communicated and a general idea when it’s all done whether or not you got the chairs or the table in this box. There are two reasons why I feel strongly about the existence of these plans. The first one centers around my faith and the words that have been recorded for me in the “Book of Books”. In the grander story of the grander plan, I can picture my own story intertwined, and just as an author develops an intentional

I wonder if Mick Jagger still thinks that “You Can’t Always Get What You Want”? Didn’t we all try to teach that concept to our children? I’m pretty sure that we’ve stopped teaching it, singing about it and even believing it somewhere during my lifetime. This morning as I wandered in, a bit later than usual (I’m on vacation), I ordered my usual for a Monday morning… a grande` drip. Well, there happened to be about three sips less in the pot than a true grande` size. It was fine by me, but not by the Starbucks barista code. She apologized profusely and if I could wait 3 minutes I could have a fresh one. If I couldn’t wait, they’d whip me up an Americano. Either way, my drink was “on the house”. Apparently, the code is “on demand” or it’s free. Last night we enjoyed a great family meal out. My son ordered an enormous sandwich, hold the tomatoes. Well, they forgot to hold the tomatoes. It was no huge issue to him, but to our server and the manager it was at least a misdemeanor

“You only get one chance to make a first impression”. At least that’s what they say…. “They” being the invisible force of opinion that rules the world. That’s a bit of pressure. I mean, if you don’t get it right the first time, then who really knows if you’ll be able to get it at all? One of the things that fascinates me about the north west is the reality that many here don’t seem to be hung up on what their first impression might be or whether or not it influences others for bad or good. Our contributions to the fashion world are, after all, fleece, socks and sandals, fleece, Doc Martins, fleece and vests made of fleece. It’s not really much of anything to boast about. I’m convinced that this area of the country has the least amount of mirrors per capita, and most of those that do exist are probably part of an independent art exhibit. There is not nearly the pressure here that I’ve experienced in other areas of the country. Just one early morning visit to my beachfront hang

Yesterday I had a plan. Fortunately some friends had a better plan. I knew it was a better plan because I felt it deep down, at heart level. It wasn’t even my plan, it was theirs, but it resonated in my being. I was envious of the simplicity of what they were about to experience. Usually when someone tells me about their planned activity, even if it’s a really good one, I can only manage a polite “Oh that’s nice”, kind of response. This was different. Yesterday, my first reaction was an envious “I wish we could do that today”. It hung precariously close to whining. The plan wasn’t complex, in fact its simplicity was what was attracting me. I could have easily done it, except for one small complication. I had my own plan for the day. Those of you who know me, know how much of a dilemma that could be for me. It was worse though. Not only did I have a plan, I had a timeline that had to go with the plan. Let me explain. I am in the midst of remodeling a guest room. Time is

I’ve spent enough time here in the northwest, that I’m sure I’m overdue to write something about umbrellas. It might be considered a bit odd that, with the winter rains gone and my grass burning up, I’d pick now for the topic, but many things I do seem a bit odd to many people so why disappoint now. Actually, for your information, this happens to be a very appropriate time. This week I have the privilege of teaching, in my community o’ faith, the part of God’s creation story dealing with the introduction of Adam and Eve. Just a few weeks ago I was able to be back in New York performing a wedding for a very special couple, and next month, my wife and I will officially become empty nest parents. In case you haven’t caught on yet, the theme of the month for me is relationships. That’s where umbrella’s come in. I found an umbrella the other day as I was rearranging our living room. It brought back images to me of walking in the rain with my wife. Lots of times when we walk in the r

I’m getting to witness a profound transaction taking place this morning. From my seat this morning, a big stupid hulking hybrid bus is filling the background. That should be criminal on a morning like this. Anyway, it’s causing my focus to shift in the direction of two golden retrievers. They had just been hitched up outside while their human marches inside for a venti iced something. They really are beautiful dogs, but what is catching my attention is their stance as they wait for their human. They are almost rigid at attention, pointing longingly towards the door. I’ve noticed that they don’t alter their gaze a bit when any of the rest of the caffeine clique wander back outside. They don’t even flinch when slippers and boxers guy wanders past. This is a bit unusual because many of their contemporaries, when left in similar situations, will give their attention to just about anyone or anything that walks by. They attempt to bribe you with their eyes, pleading with any sympath

This is my week to dream, to use my imagination, to get out of the weekly grind that my job can get me into if I’m not careful. I get to engage the artist role a bit more if I work things right. It’s started off well so far; early morning on the beach with two layers of the inside of my mouth scalded with Starbucks. It’s going to be a good one. I’ve already seen an eagle glide across the beachfront. The ferries have their snow covered backdrops in place and the sun is promising 80 degrees today. It’s going to be a good one. The usuals are here, catching busses and the morning news. One guy even came right out of bed, pajama shorts and furry slippers. I have to wonder about his judgment. After all, furry slippers and 80 degrees? Tall people, short people, espresso people, chai teas and frappucinos are all represented this morning. There are writers and readers, those on their way to work and those with work being the furthest from their minds…. And then there’s me. I’m just a

I followed my daughter down to her shift at that “other” coffee company this morning. Life has kept me off schedule this week, way off in fact. It’s usually the other end of the week that I’m writing this blog. I’m okay with it which is a sign of growth for me. I’m at the “other” place staring at the label on my grande’ drip. It tells me that the cup I’ve just invested in is 100 percent compostable. This cup is one of the main reasons that I changed back to Starbucks in the first place. Well, actually not this one, but the original one that I bought way back when, only to discover that compostable meant that it would begin to become compost even before I reached my table to enjoy it. I’m not exaggerating. It began to disintegrate and leak profusely even as I was sitting down. Now I’m as “green” friendly as the next guy here in the Northwest, but for someone as cheap as I am, trying to stretch a cup of coffee over a 2 hour time span, this was very alarming. I think that they’

I’ve always heard it said, when considering your past, that “you can’t go back”. I’ve never really been totally sold on that concept, at least as it might apply in my own life. Now, to be sure, I would agree that things change from your past the moment you leave the past. People die, property is sold, relationships pass, almost immediately. My wife and I certainly have had our share of past lives, living as we have in various parts of the country. My wife has been the most affected by whatever we haven’t been able to go back to. She puts roots down deep wherever she is planted, and when those roots get pulled up, so does a lot of other stuff, and things are never the same again. Still, I don’t think that it’s a universal principal. I don’t think that everything gets changed by time. Sometimes I think that the “you can’t go back” concept was created by people who wanted to run away in the first place. It was an excuse to not even attempt going back. It was the reason that the

There’s a little blond haired cutie wobbling around here this morning. He’s got that bow legged, pants full of diaper waddle, wandering from person to person amidst thoughts ranging from “isn’t he cute” to “where the heck is this kids parents”. From where I’m sitting, the little guy is an orphan. I assume a parent is somewhere in the place, hidden behind a couch or this music display featuring Neil Diamond and Carly Simon releases. To think that I’ve lived long enough to see them cool again…. Anyway, back to the youngster. It doesn’t seem that fear is in his vocabulary yet. Neither is discretion. He goes from one conversation to another, one table to another, not merely willing to be a spectator. He’s hitting, poking and conversing as he goes. It’s interesting to watch this interchange. You can instantly tell who amongst us has children, and who will be sticking with dogs. Some avoid him as if even the minutest of contact will turn them into one of him, while others openly

There’s a little dog outside on the sidewalk this morning. It’s one of those little fox like puff balls, a Pomeranian I think, that get all excitable and yippy when their human comes near. This one is no exception. He/she, I can’t tell, has been staring, straining, longingly, almost painfully towards the doors since being tethered to the little green fence post a few moments ago. The only thing distracting focus from the door is when indigo hair guy stoops down and acknowledges the hyper little prince/princess. When the door opens again and the human appears, the excitement is pretty much uncontainable. I’m not sure which one has had their morning caffeine already. It’s quite obvious where the allegiance lies. Now that I think of it, there’s no lacking in obvious behavior around here this morning. The furry beast and its human are obvious in their relationship. Older guy is painfully obvious in his establishing contact with younger woman. Old couple is obvious in their desire