Two Seven Ten Eighteen
He walked into the coffee shop like he was walking onto a yacht. But it could have been a posh country club so he slowed his step.
It was a sunny autumn morning a cool air but far from biting. Behind him as he walked thru the door was the wall of glass windows so he was coming from the light and brightness was at his back. The place was nearly deserted so he made his way and to the counter. It had a paper which not having seen one in months caught his interest and would be a treat.
The barista had her back and all he noticed was long, loose blond hair. When she turned the next feature was the Ruth Vader Ginsburg glasses. This was a curve and momentarily slowed the thought process. His sensors were firing but about to crash.
‘Can I help you?’ and she lit up causing bare wires somewhere deep in his cerebellum to touch and spark. That particular circuit was now shorted.
‘Coffee ?’ was about all he could utter. He felt like an alien or a time-traveler that just landed on his head in a strange place.
‘I can help you then.’ and the first smile set the hook, game, set and match.
Still scrambling to gather something, anything close to intelligent and coherent conversation he struggled. She was the kind of gorgeous that made you want to blast thru the concrete sidewalk and have passersby toss loose dirt in the hole.
She wore little to no makeup for it wasn’t really necessary to cover a rare natural beauty. More of that smile was not helping the condition nor the situation. His eyes and hand went for the paper covering a lack of interest. He felt he was failing already. He found the sports section and words came.
‘Do you have any Kona? Not blended?’ He watched her eyes closely. Blue and the glasses were a thin disguise.
‘No.’ She was telling the truth.
‘What would you recommend ?’
‘We have two house grinds’ and she produced a small table sign with brief descriptions. ‘The 380 Grind and 1848.’
‘I like the 380 Grind’ she advised.
‘I shudder when I even THINK of that road.’ and it was his turn to fire back a smile. ‘I’ll have the 1848.’
This was going to be fun he thought as she turned to complete the order and serve. ‘Right away.’
From down the counter she asked if he needed room for crème & sweetener. ‘No.’
The place was deserted for two ladies and a youngster playing at a second table while his Mom socialized with her friend.
She delivered the hot coffee and it was game on.
‘My name is Bill’ and passed her a card. 'A friend and his wife are supposed to meet me here.'
‘Ka-eighty.’ She held out her hand. It could have been k/eight or katie. A minute later he wasn’t sure if it might have been Kate.
Suddenly he woke up. Reaching for the lamp on the night table and first thing the light struck was a business card.
Was there a coffee shop?
Anyway, busy day and another today as well.
Miguel Ortega and I went to the boneyard and looked at the HUGE pile of demolished wooden fences. We had a very good get acquainted side visit and made plans for a future sojourn to this place he knows of that has an extravagant collection of other such wood however I got a sense it is quite a bit more pricey.
Miguel has some power tools such as saws he invited me over to use which I intended to take advantage of perhaps as soon as today.
I shared with him my plan to make the weathered wood frames and insert the cool and artsy-fartsy prints of cool wine labels. He concurred it was a great idea.
OK.
I am approaching that limit of words, time and space for this morning.
The mood is somber as the Red Sox lost game 3 last night late in 18 innings. I could not stay until the End.
HA HA SOME FAN.
Nevermind and don’t go moron on me. Keep this in a proper perspective por favor.
It is the best of 7 and losing one close game is or could be expected. The Brooklyn pitcher had an exceptionally strong outing and a True Fan would never, NEVER NOT acknowledge such a fact.
The kid had a stellar performance against a very strong team. AND game 4 is tonight and forget what all the ‘experts’ are chirping for their opinion is no more right than yours OR mine.
That is after all why such things are NOT decided on paper. They play it out on green grass between lines of fine white chalk with strict rules and neutral umpires to judge anything close and settle disputes. The replays, video challenges and reviews muck it up.
It should be good and get better as the day wears on. Should it warm sufficiently, a nice bike ride would work out cobwebs, kinks and provide both a spiritual and emotional lift. Or possibly in the late afternoon before Mass a session on the range swatting some golf balls.
Time again is becoming an issue.
Bill drifting out. Katie, thanks.
