sometimes life throws a newspaper at your car

I had been lamenting a time when I had time. I call it lamenting but it would have equated to a mere flashing thought amongst a constant stream of thoughts that I have lately.

I had just dropped off my little Bean at preschool and returned to my car. While starting the engine a car came to idle up beside me. The newspaper delivery guy was passing through. I can wait, I thought.

Next thing, he threw a newspaper smack-bang at the side of my car! Not skimming the roof of my car, or brushing past lightly, but an almighty thud right into the side of my car.

As he drove forward slightly he passed by the bewildered expression on my face. Face to face. I saw his humoured embarrassment and he saw my face move through surprise then confused delight. I waited for him to get out of the car, bend down and reposition the newspaper in a more compliant delivery location. But he didn’t.

He edged his car forward, made a 4 point u-turn and threw a newspaper at a parked car on the other side of the road. Thud. It fell to the roadside.

I don’t blame him for feeling exhausted (in his right arm) by the daunting task of throwing hundreds of newspapers out of his car window. And I’m sure the requirements of the job of newspaper delivery are very specific, “newspapers deliveries: Must be made on the driveway, not in the garden; Must avoid puddles; Must avoid pedestrians; Must avoid parked cars…” rules ,rules, rules. Sometimes, when you haven’t got time for bending over, the rules are for bending.

So what’s this got to do with my time? Well, had I rushed off, in my usual distracted, hurried fashion, I would have missed this opportunity to share faces with the newspaper delivery man.

Sometimes you’ve got to wait, while life throws a newspaper at your car, to remember that precious moments (and newspapers) come to those that are there to receive them (on the road).

Newspaper Delivery

image: http://www.gaebler.com/How-to-Start-a-Newspaper-Delivery-Business

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sleep when you’re dead: another cup of joe?

Coffee sleep when you're deadCoffee. It’s one of our favourite legal drugs. That and alcohol*. We all have our favourite cup of joe. And a language that goes with it. Flat white, skinny cap, decaf latte, soy, in a mug, in a shot, sugar, honey, lemon… It’s as personal as your fingerprint.

Here’s how I drink coffee:
At home. Strong espresso, some evaporated milk, sugar then heat it in the microwave until just below “f**k that’s hot!” (that’s an official temperature).

At my desk, non-descript, however my mouth did say “a flat white, please”. Purchased from the human equivalent of a coffee vending machine. Cold, bitter and reheated too many times to bother doing it again.

At home. With play-dough stuck to the side of the cup. It started out with such potential, now it’s giving up. Defeated and reheated too many times to bother doing it again.

At home. A shot in a small glass. It’s late and dark. The creme is bitter on my lips. It reminds me that I’m alive. I look like a vampire caught in the act. Wide eyed and wild.

In a cafe. One where they roast their own coffee beans. It’s fair trade, it’s hot, it’s smooth. It doesn’t need sugar. It’s bold and defiant. It reminds me that my life is nothing without good coffee. I want to have another one.

Coffee Plantation Brazil

*I put cigarettes in another category: Marketing devil spawn. Or is it third world population control. Or is it both.

images: Coffee Plantation, Brazil, http://en.wikipedia.org 
Sleep when you’re dead, http://uncyclopedia.wikia.com