A Full Moon and the Best Pair of Binoculars!

Have you ever had one of those days where you just felt insufferably good? That was the day for me today. Or so it seemed as I neared the end of it.

I was scheduled for a six hour work shift (which turned out to be seven or so). But this is my kind of shift, because I was allowed to spend a good four hours of it doing artwork. I love doing the artwork. You know the boards above the Barista Bar? and behind the counter? the boards that tell you what the Daily Offering is, or the Coffee of the Week? Well, I get to do those at my store. My favorite thing to do on shift.

The top one I had total creative freedom on. Usually there is
a promo drawing they'd like you to copy, or in my case,
elaborate on. The one below was predetermined, and
I could find no fault with it. Very cool design.

One of my coworkers, Marc. Since we don't have any photos
of the employees, I started doing custom portraits of them.
He's the third to make it onto the boards.

My favorite drink to make? A Venti Iced Caramel Macchiatto. First you put pumps of vanilla at the bottom, then the milk, then the ice, then the shots and finally the caramel. It creates this drink that is white from the bottom to about halfway up, then turns brown as it gets to the top, with great drips of golden caramel sinking to the bottom. It is a true work of art. I have never tasted it.

The Venti Iced Caramel Macchiatto, with,
as the customer ordered it, Insane CR
(lots and lots of extra caramel sauce).

My favorite thing to drink? A creation of a coworker of mine, a soy frappuccino. Now, if you are fans of soy and/or frappuccinos, don't go rushing to your local Starbucks asking for one. They don't exist. Baristas don't know how to make it. We are not really even supposed to use the blenders for soy. And the frappucinos are a pre-mixed base that work well for blending, whereas soy just creates a slushy drink. It doesn't exist. But it tastes sooooo good. I could drink several in a day and be happy.

The day went pretty well, considering that I am sick because of the changes in the weather. I helped a coworker change all the merchandise displays, and in return got to sort through our box of marked out items, scoring lots of free stuff. That made me happy.

Then I went to my folks place for dinner. Oh man. If ever there was a class on how to get stressed out, they'd be the first to teach it. I spent a few hours there, trying to help out. After some wine, my mom relaxed a bit, cheered up a little. I was able to banter with her and have a little fun. Jeff refused to feel better though, and that was a bummer.

As I stepped out of their house and looked up in the sky, I knew right then and there that there is way more to life than house problems and money problems and stress over packing and being sick and moving and getting jobs. There is the Moon. High in the sky, completely full, on a clear night. And tonight is special! Tonight, despite the fact that I am sick and want to sleep, I am staying up till 2:30 in the morning to watch one of the best and most beautiful Total Lunar Eclipses I'll probably ever see. Awesome! Proof that God is Amazing!

A Saturday to Die For

How the day starts has always affected its outcome for me. If I wake up in the morning, with just the right amount of sunlight streaming in, coming off of a perfect dream and I got just enough sleep, chances are the day will go well.

If your landlord calls you at 8:15 on a SATURDAY morning (as mine did this morning), asking to show your soon-to-be-vacated apartment to some people at 9, chances are the day won't go so well.

"Oh, did I wake you?"

"yes." I am grumpy, and mostly asleep, having just been dreaming of taking some all important exam that would decide the fate of my future career....

"Well, I have some folks who want to come around 9,"

"Paul, its a Saturday morning." omg. why why why why

"Well, that's when people are looking for apartments. Are you going to be able to be out by the 31st?" No, Paul, that's not when people are looking at apartments. I would know. I'VE been looking at apartments for 4 weeks now. No one has been willing to show at NINE in the MORNING. And no, I'm not ready on the 31st. We talked about this. My new place won't be ready till the 15th of September, and you said I could stay. Don't go changing your mind now...

"I'm sorry Paul, I'm not awake right now. Can we talk in a little bit?"

"Yeah, I'll be up there at 9." Great. That gives me 45 minutes to wake up, have breakfast, down some caffeine, and take out the trash. Great.

"ok." No, its not okay. Whatever.

The rest of the day did not improve. A SoCal heat wave has made my apartment virtually unbearable for the duration of the sun's travels through the sky, and I just want to be wearing a tank and playing Halo 2. Instead, I worked on making progress packing and cleaning. I power through the kitchen, but I'm still only a quarter of the way through the things I need to do in there. I cleaned All Day. And the people who were going to come at 4 with Paul decided to stop by themselves, early, just to see the place.....which is what they were going to do...at 4.... I was not ready for them. Didn't my lovely landlord put something on his sign that says "Please Do Not Disturb Tenant" ???? I mean, really.

I finally get some relief when I took a nice, refreshing cold shower before going to work, but things did not improve when I got there. My shift lead didn't reply to my cheerful greeting, and I immediately sensed trouble. I later came to understand the trouble had nothing to do with me, but man, this girl has an attitude when she's not feeling well.

And my coworker, a guy that I've come to enjoy working with because he's funny and witty, and a little gritty too, decided to get onto an extra large soapbox towards the end of the evening. He started to rant about religion, which I took as mildly as possible. But finally he got my goat. I don't yet know how to argue my faith convincingly enough to someone determined not to believe, so I decided to ask him a question.

"Mark, would you die for someone you loved?" Easy question. But you have to answer it honestly.

"Oh yeah, of course. Without a question."

"Okay, well, would you die for a complete stranger?"

"No. There are too many assholes who are complete strangers. I wouldn't die for an asshole." Ouch. That was harsh, and a bit jaded. My outlook on Mark changes a bit.

"Let me ask you the same question a little differently. If you saw a man trip and fall into a street with oncoming traffic, and you had the ability to save his life at the cost of your own, would you do it?"

Since we were working, and not in the same room through the entire course of this conversation, I couldn't quite understand his answer to this question. But in the end, he said no. And asked me if I would do the same. To save another human being? I don't know. Honestly. But I feel as though I would. It feels right. The ultimate sacrifice. He countered this argument with "what if you saved someone like Hitler? What if that person got worse? More evil?" Then my sacrifice for that person would have been wasted, but not for myself. The intent was still out of love. That's the point. Jesus died for his friends, the people he knew, the people in Israel who knew him, and For EVERYONE Else. Past and Future. As a human man there was no way he could have personally known so many, as well as loved every single one of them. But he was still willing to die for them. But now, as He is, He does know every single person. And anyone who wants to can feel the amazing love that he had then and has now! And forever!! That is what fills me with joy every time I think of it. That was what I wanted Mark to understand.

Now I sit at my computer, contemplating what love means, and needing desperately to sleep so I can get up at a ridiculous hour in the morning to go play on ships. I made it through Saturday. I'm just not sure I made it through unscathed...

cheers.

The Last Battle

Last spring I wrote of the Great Spider War, in which many many scores of spiders perished in a jet of water and copious amounts of insecticide. I wrote of the capture of the Tree by the enemy, and how I vanquished them. I also wrote of the continuous guerrilla tactics used by the infamous Spiders in the following months, sneaking in the house, taking over the kitchen cabinets, appearing in my shower, and on my bed covers.

Well, today it is my great pleasure to inform you that the Great Spider War is nearly over. The troops are returning home so to speak. I say this because I achieved a great victory today.

During the cold months of winter, the spiders retreated into their strongholds, making the kitchen cabinets their main base of operations. Once they pulled back, they did not show their ugly heads till the spring arrived. Shortly after the warm weather set in, I found that the Staircase, the Tree, and now the Mailbox had been infiltrated and occupied.

I was at a loss as to what to do. I was so surrounded, and had relatively no way of forcing them back that I was forced to make do with their occupation and do my best to ignore them.

No longer. Today my Landlord returned and provided me with the long-hoped for aid in the fight. A hose. A very powerful hose at that. I imagine that the troops invading Europe against Hitler felt similarly when brand new Howitzers arrived to crush the Panzer divisions.

I commenced with Operation Purge. Within 20 minutes the whole of the Staircase and Tree had been sprayed clean of cobwebs and whatever else had been hiding in the muck. The Mailbox was similarly sprayed as best as possible, however, since it is crammed with Mail, I thought to wait till the morn' to deal with its occupants. I then applied a covering fire of insecticide over the crucial territories to prevent retaliation.

This Event, along with the Great Vacuuming by my good friend General Lasswell, has deprived the enemy of yet another stronghold. They have attempted another incursion into the kitchen, but I will be dealing with those one or two brash rebels very harshly indeed.

I have noted this Event as the Last Battle because in three weeks time I will not have to deal with this problem anymore. I shall be moving on to new Lands. Hopefully they will be free of such enemies.

Packing

As I sit here packing up all of my stuff to move to a new habitat, I wonder at the weight of my boxes. I have 5 boxes of books packed up, and only one of them isn't that heavy because it is filled with comic books. The others are heavy enough to make me wish I had help.

I just finished packing a sixth box. It is smaller than the others, and I filled it every sketch book I could find. Filled it to the top. And when I picked it up to see how heavy it was, I discovered that it was fairly lightweight. I got to wondering, is that the weight of my art? Those sketchbooks represent the last 10 years of my sketches and drawings. They don't weigh much....what does that mean?

Enough waffle. Back to work!

Cheers