Coffee Karma

Georgia and Bob have a neat little coffee gadget on the counter, and although Georgia walked me through the step-by-steps, this morning’s coffee creation was problematic … 

I thought I was making one thing, but I put in another. An ounce of water shot out and it halted: so I pushed it again (universal solution to all things electronic: push the button again) but eventually realized I’d put an espresso thingee in, so I replaced it with a coffee pod, pushed again … suddenly I had too much water, dribbling on the counter … (all this for a cup of coffee!) and my unintentional blend tasted a bit yuck … So I added some half-and-half, ambled up the stairs (dodging my new BDF – BestDogForever –Buster, who likes to stop right in front of you to make sure you’re still there) and finally, finally sat down for a cup of coffee.

Ewwwww! 

Was the half-and-half bad? I tried again. BLEAH. Sour. As if I didn’t believe (praying for some water-into-wine type miracle?) I took another tiny sip. Gag!

Nope. After all the efforts to make the coffee, and then try, try, TRY to make it palatable, I finally grasped: I had to throw it out and start over again. I headed back down the stairs.

And then, halfway down (as I paused for Buster, who had halted one step ahead of me) I decided I didn’t want a coffee anymore. I wanted something different. I wanted something better. 

DING! After wasting w-a-y too much time on all sorts of mental mastication and machination and self-flagellation I figured it out. Stop wanting that. Yes I had longed for it, put effort into it; it looked good, smelled good, and I was so eager to drink it down. But in the end: it was sour. ‘Time to pour it down the drain.

And instead of trying to recapture or recreate it I am striving for something different, more, better. Much better. 

I made a cappuccino. Strong. Intensely present. Creamy and sweet and delicious. Better.

ON TURNING 50 (3 years late)

It is cool tonight in San Diego, where – surrounded by adoring (or perhaps just ‘hungry’) cats and a dog – I am taking a nearly unprecedented – of late – respite; reading, writing, drinking wine and smoking a cigar. Prompted by an anthology on Things To Do When You Turn 50 loaned to me by Cheryl (my accountant who surprisingly still talks to me) at my annual scolding; which alternately tells you to ‘stop obsessing about your flaws’ and ‘get plastic surgery’, and ‘start hiking … playing tennis … running’ while you ‘take it easy on yourself and accept yourself as you are’ … I was inspired by Dr. Patricia Farrell’s entry ‘Write Your Own Top 10 List.’

Clever.

So here goes. Now that I’m …. 40-10 (I still can’t say the F-word) (plus) my words of wisdom are …

1.    Forget your mistakes. Seriously: so many of my blunders took place so many years ago, they are ancient history. No living soul probably remembers them. Only the dinosaurs.

2.    Keep whatever hours you like. Get up when you want. Go to bed when you want. Nap. I still work 80 hours a day – sheesh!

3.    Accept that some things are water under the bridge. That the sun has set on some dreams and goals. Savor sweet memories; write fictitious novellas about the others. And this just adds to the urgency of …

4.    It’s time for the full court press on the things that haven’t transpired yet. Do the marathon (ok: half-marathon). Climb Kilimanjaro. Get the Captain’s license. Take Spanish lessons. Move to a foreign city. I’m not getting any younger.

5.    Do not let cheap wine pass your lips. Nor crappy beer. Better to have one luscious glass of Cab Franc than a whole bottle of (ptuh! ptuh!) Up-chuck Chuck. You know: unless stranded on a desert island and dying of thirst. Ditto on cigars. And food. We need to consume less. Share more. Waste not. Want not. You get the cliché … Consume judiciously. Give the rest away. Be generous to a fault.

6.    Be the first one to jump in the water. Or off the rocks. Skinny dip. Swim under the water falls. Do the daring thing. It’s exhilarating. And scary. You won’t die … probably. But if you do, much better than an aneurysm! 

7.    Dance as often as you like. By yourself. Or with friends. Or even better: with handsome men: soldiers, sailors, cowboys, young Latin journalists …  Close. Who the fuck cares?! Considering women ‘my age’ are nearly transparent, no one will even notice you. And if they do … see item # 8.

8.    Bang one out on a tropical beach if you feel like it. As my counselor (Yes! I just started going to a shrink and on our first meeting she earned her keep) chided me, peering over her glasses: ‘You’re a grown woman …!’ Exactly! So flirt, kiss that stranger, hold hands, lose your bikini top, whatever floats your (consensual) boat.

9.    In fact: have sex as frequently as possible. And when you find yourself in bed with an utterly delightful guy, do not – at any cost – get out of bed. I don’t care if the President is on the phone or Ed McMahon is at the door with the big cardboard check (is he even still alive?) Nothing is as fabulous as a good roll in the hay. And another. And another …

10.    Accept who/what you are. Well I find this the hardest one. Embrace who/what you are, what time (and tragedy) (and gravity) has manifested in your person and body. Of character and fortitude: continue to shape who you are and what you are becoming. That is totally within your control. 

11.    Be an excellent role model. Know that you are a role model: be brave and act with intention. I cannot believe I waited so many years to say some of this shit. But life is way too short and I can see the end of the runway from here; and although I personally intend to enjoy every remaining minute, I also want to leave a legacy and a roadmap for the future, that says it’s okay to enjoy life. That’s the plan!

12.    Don’t worry about being too precise or too accurate. If you need to take a little longer to accomplish something right … ie if your ‘Top 10’ becomes ‘12’ … so be it. Better to get it right.

SELF PORTRAITS OF ME @ 53 ... BIKING MAUPITI (TOP), HUAHINE BEACH (LEFT)