The Gift of Discovery

A while back, I was given a coffee subscription. (w00t!)

Every month, I get 4 little packets of beans, each full of a different roast from a different maker. You get a nice descriptive blurb about each (full of whimsical adjectives) noting country of origin, roast type, and flavor notes. Each packet makes two hearty mugs of coffee. The giver was a bit disappointed by the size of the bags (“I’d imagined them as being a little bigger”) but I think it’s the perfect amount.

Because this means that every Sunday, I get to have a Coffee Adventure. I’ve even developed little rituals to go along with the adventure. I read the labels, I compare my mood to the roasts. I select, I grind, I carefully measure out the water. I brew, sip, and then make notes for posterity. It’s been a grand amusement, one I’ve been particularly glad for since lockdowns started. 

But it’s also been surprisingly revealing. My playfully close attention to the details ended up showing me that I’ve been living under a false impression for ages now. Because french roasts and espressos make my nose crinkle, I’ve declared for years that I like a light roast made strong. -- Imagine my surprise at discovering that that’s not true! 

At first I told myself that the reason some of the coffees seemed unspeakably foul was the type of bean. After all, a coffee with notes of “mango nectar” is bound to curl the tongue of someone who loathes mango… but “brown sugar spice, hazelnut, and cherry” should be a winner, right? 

*WRONG!*

Maybe it’s the sweet? The spice? Well, “comfort, cocoa, and spice” got a big thumb up, as did “brown sugar, buttered toast, and nutmeg”, so that’s not the issue.

Fruity fails…? I thought that was my Eureka until I tried “brown sugar, date, and golden raisin”, which has one of the highest ratings thus far.

OK, the nuts, then. 

Nope. “Molasses, allspice, and roasted chestnut” got a big thumbs up.

Not surprisingly “caramel, rose, green grape, lemon” was a massive failure… I already knew I'm not really into floral flavoring. Yet “green pepper, floral, pipe tobacco” is surprisingly tasty. (And let me tell you, I was NOT expecting that! Seriously, who on earth would think anyone is going to find that combination appealing?)

Finally, I had to accept that the common denominator was the light roast. The assumption of years has crumbled and I stand before you, a self-acknowledged "medium roast" kind of gal. Naturally, now that I know this, a higher preponderance of summertime light roasts have started to arrive on my doorstep.

But that’s ok, because I’ve also learned that the lower the fat content of whatever whitener I use, the less of a tongue-curling effect is produced. The resultant coffee may not be my favorite, but I am able to drink it -- something that was beyond me with that pot ‘o’ mango brew. So there's good to balance the bad.

I’m curious to see what other revelations my Sunday Coffee Adventures have in store for me.

     “To know thyself is the beginning of wisdom”  -Socrates

          “Hand over the coffee and no one gets hurt” -Jz

Pffffffpht!

For Startrek Sundays, I usually try to match the meme to my mood - but that was kind of challenging this week. For whatever reason, life is getting to me right now. I’ve actually been pleased with how well I've done up to this point. (Well, ok, I’ve been grumpy at the density of people but that’s really kind of standard operating procedure.) Friday, however, I realized I’m sliding into a funk. A full-blown, mask-wearing, socially-distanced, “this is getting old and we’re nowhere near done” pandemic-fallout funk. 

And, yanno, you don’t see a lot of memes about Spock getting depressed…

Or Kirk being less than jaunty.

Picard is always self-possessed, Janeway is dauntless, 

       and truthfully, Worf just figures any day is a good day to die. 

Then I realized that actually, there actually was a meme out there that aptly conveyed my feelings of weariness, futility, and being blocked at every turn - and here it is!

Thank you, Harry Kim.

If it were up to me, you’d be promoted, my friend!

Awash in Activity

I don’t know about anyone else, but these days, I feel like my most enduring memory of this staying home / staying safe time will be that of doing dishes. Not because I’m constantly cooking… I'm not. But it feels like I spend All My Time doing dishes.

Now, I know this is not my reality.

I have continued working, sometimes remotely and sometimes not. 

I have done laundry, I have grocery shopped. 

I’m on my fourth jigsaw puzzle of the lockdown and I’ve re-read my way through two favorite series - the World of the Lupi and Mercy Thompson. 

I have cut down, literally, over 400 pounds of brush. 

      (I know this because we pay by weight when it’s taken for processing.) 

I’ve pruned my raspberries, mowed my lawn, and killed a snake. 

      (One of those things might be related to another…) 

I have restored a number of fallen rocks to their home in my stone wall.

I’ve met new neighbors … from socially responsible distances, of course.
I have participated in an online book club. 

I’ve patched my work jeans. 

I have trimmed my bangs.

I’ve discovered a dead possum in my garage, 

      and a live one sitting shiva over the decaying remains.

I have repaired my garage door.

I’ve attended Porch Parties,
      where we space ourselves out 6-ft apart and drink BYO Beverages.

I have, as directed, filmed a dragon encounter and sent the video to my Dom. 

So, no. It has NOT been All the Suds, All the Time,

      yet it still feels that way.

I'll bet it wouldn't be so bad if I had a cool dish towel...

Stressed in Space

Hope your buns are hanging in there!

This Week On "Remote Tech Support"

The strain begins to show...

(Or maybe I always bleed from the ears and just hadn't noticed before.)