• Dark Days

    I am dreading work tomorrow, but not for the reasons you might assume. You see; work will be a welcome relief from the weekend past. Picture two days of getting over colds and no one getting along. Picture a day where Cheryl is the patient one. It wasn’t pretty.

    So if the weekend was total crap, and I’m looking forward to a break from home, why am I dreading work? I’m going to have to relive my weekend a dozen times, every time well-meaning soul asks, “So how was your weekend.” They’ll say it in such a pleasant, well-rested tone, and I’m going to want to do some smacking. Oh, it won’t be anything physical. I know enough not to do anything overtly fire-able. I’m sure I’ll come up with the perfect verbal jab when the time comes, something just this side of the code of conduct, but it won’t be pretty.

    So now I’m conflicted. I’m wide awake, up past my pathetic bed time, glad to be through with the day but dreading going to bed. I’m staying up later and later, thus assuring that tomorrow will be just as bad as I think it will be. Dude, It’s like the ultimate in self-fulfilling prophesies man!

    **Note to our weekend guests: this had nothing to do with you. Our prevailing mood started sometime before the sun came up, well before you came over.

  • A stick of butter in sheep’s clothing

    Cheryl came home from the grocery store this week with some sweets. She always comes home with sweets, but this time she came home with sweets she claimed were healthier than her standard fare. One of these healthier snacks was a miniature, transparent silo of popcorn. There’s been a lot of talk about how unhealthy movie theater popcorn can be, but only because of the crap they put in it. I trust my wife more than the movie industry.

    The other night I was conjuring up quite a hankering for some sweetened popcorn, thinking of that miniature silo of confectioner’s finest. I popped the top and got the drop on some sweetened pop. The moment it crossed my lips my fate was sealed. It was time for some serious binge eating, even if the packaging did say, “contains real butter.”

    Doesn’t sound all that healthy now, does it?

  • Trouble brewing

    Last week I experimented with Folger’s Coffee Singles. Other than the coffee tasting really bad, it was a success. So, I tracked down my coffee grinder, brewing device, left-over filters, and went shopping for beans. After a trip to the mall (we didn’t just go for beans), I was ready to begin my education, as the brew-master. First I did some research. I looked into grind quality (course v. fine), water temperatures, and bean to water ratios. I settled on a fine grind (widely preferred for drip methods of brewing – as I would be employing) and four tablespoons of beans per cup. If you are familiar with coffee brewing you know that four tablespoons is an awful lot of beans for one cup. And you know what? It is.

    Adam has been sick the last few days, and this has meant we’ve had fewer hours to sleep. Sunday was my crash, the day when consecutive nights of little sleep caught up with me. It was beginning to look like we picked the wrong morning to go to church. It was then that I decided on my bean to water ratio. Several of the serious coffee drinkers on the web suggested two tablespoons of beans per cup, but I kept thinking of my Jolt Cola inspired, twice the sugar added, Kool-Aid concoctions from my childhood.

    Twice the coffee beans are the same as twice the sugar in Kool-aid, right? No, it isn’t.

    Hopped up Kool-Aid may help children defy gravity for a little while, but it can’t touch the toe curling experience of putting down a strong cup of coffee. Quite by accident, I learned that my cup of Super Joe also makes a superb engine degreaser. This morning I tried it with just two. Despite the inherent advantages of having engine degreaser on hand in an office setting, I think I may stick with just two from now on.