Life at 3 miles an Hour

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