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  • ODDS and ENDS: Coffee, Tea, and Cookies

    (Oh, to feel love’s sting…)

    I have loved coffee for as long as I can remember. As a kid, coffee was the key to adulthood; it’s what all grownups did in the morning – drank coffee and ate breakfast, or complained about what their day was going to be like. I can see my parents, coffee cup in hand, watching me and my brothers opening Christmas gifts. It’s what my Uncle Ron drank all the time, especially when he would visit and smoke his pipe – the only person who was allowed to smoke in our house. I got my first coffee mug on Valentine’s Day, when I was in the 6th Grade. It was a corny mug that had a heart shaped handle and said “The Luv Mug” on it. My Ma gave it to me. I was the only twelve year old who was drinking coffee and reading the paper before school. I’m not the type of person who gets a headache if they don’t have their coffee in the morning, and I am also the type of person who can drink coffee all day, and it doesn’t affect my sleep, but I am the type of person that if I don’t drink coffee in the morning then I feel like the day isn’t right.

    Over the last two years, I have started drinking tea in the afternoon. Actually, 4pm to be precise, and only from October to March. You know, the cold months around here. I don’t know why I started doing it, and it would be easy to throw my wife under the bus on this one, as she does like a peach tea from time to time. But I got a box of Black English Tea, made a cup with a little milk and sugar, and it became rather satisfying in the afternoon. I even have a specific mug that I use for my tea. Funny how before, I only viewed tea as something that one drank when they sick, like had the flu. Tea was like coffee, but not as strong, so it was more water and less caffeine, you know, what sick people need.

    I have to go to Trader Joe’s today (Woop! Woop! On 125th!) to pick up a few things for the weekend. I know I shouldn’t do it, but I will buy a bucket of cookies. I woke up this morning knowing, to my core, that I would walk into that store, and get that plastic container of chocolate-chip cookies, and eat most of them over the next two days. For no other reason than I want to. I have been good about going to the gym, and sticking to my running two miles three days a week, and I started to notice that my shirts and pants aren’t so tight, and my energy has been up, and I do feel more focused. And I am focused on eating cookies all weekend long.

  • Short Story Review: “My Camp” by Joshua Cohen

    (The short story “My Camp” by Joshua Cohen appeared in the October 21st, 2024 issue of The New Yorker.)

    Photograph by Naila Ruechel for The New Yorker

    So… What to make of “My Camp?” I guess I could say that Joshua Cohen wrote a story that I had no idea where it was going. That was refreshing. After that, I’m not sure what to think. I know I didn’t hate this story. It was a bit long; it did go on, and could have used some trimming. But, I’m just not sure…

    It started out well; lulled me into thinking this was going to be a comedic take on upstate home ownership. Then, Cohen threw a curveball, which had the story move in an altogether different direction, only to come back to the camp at the end. I’m not even sure the narrator learned or changed an any way, which normally would cause me to pan the story, but in this piece, that might have been the point?

    What I identified with was the narrator’s frustration with there not being a middle ground when it comes to October 7th, and the Gaza war. How people want the narrator to take a side, and the more pressure that is put on him, the more he digs in to not take a side. How if everyone is blindly going in one direction, you should go the opposite way. That resonated, especially in light of current events in the Mid-East.

    But I still couldn’t tell if this piece was satire, a pointed take on conviction in light of what is happening, or was this just supposed to be a joke? I would hate to think that I am clutching my pearls here, thinking it’s too soon to even remotely make any artistic comment on Gaza, as I believe one of the main reason to have art is to comment on difficult issues. Yet, wasn’t this just a story about a guy that got comfortable with scamming people so he could own a home?

    There isn’t a clear easy answer to this story, which I feel was Cohen’s point. Were people really trying to help? Does throwing money at a problem fix anything? Is greed inevitable? Is there no safety in the world and you have to take it when you get it? I could go on and on with all the questions this story brought up in me, and perhaps I should read it again. Though I don’t think that will help me find any answers. Anyway, maybe that’s just human nature – looking for answers.

    I’m open to hearing what other people think on this one. Drop a comment, let me know what you think about this story.

  • Autumn Memories, Sort of (Unedited)

    There is a serious Autumn chill in the air today, and it’s awesome. This was the first day that I could put on a button-down shirt, and a sweater, and a coat. Leaves are changing color in the City, and it’s getting darker earlier. My wife loves this time of year because we can leave the bedroom window cracked, making it all chilly in there, and sleep under all the comforters. (But I hate Pumpkin spice, so don’t get me started on that shit.) For a guy who loves Fall, this was like Heaven.

    As a kid growing up in Texas, Autumn didn’t start until November. And even then we had a couple of Thanksgivings were we had to run the air conditioner – not that it stopped my father from building a fire in the fireplace. Usually, by Halloween, it started to noticeably cool down at night, so you’d have to put on a sweater ort a coat. Maybe the leaves would just start changing color. I do remember several Halloweens where we were sweating while Trick or Treating. Depending on what your costume was, this could make the evening a very sweaty affair.

    Sadly, Fall in Texas was not a long season. As soon as it started, a month later it was December, and full on Texas winter. All the leaves had fallen, and it was a chilling 50 degrees out. Basically, you had one month to get all you Autumnal fun in.

    And then by March, it was Spring, and warm again.

  • Gone Fishin’

    I know I am doubling up on the colloquial gerund jokes for titles of late, but my day got away from me and didn’t have time for a full blog.

    So… reading on the couch listening to Bobby Timmons instead.

    Catch you tomorrow.

  • Sketchbook