The old soul coffee seems better today... Yet still "less than" what I am used to. I am facing a moral challenge: get more out of the good nature customer attention of the owner or accept that my choice in beans and asking that it be ground (not what I usually do) are my responsibility. It's not a question. Just the word "moral" itself conveys what should be the obvious answer. I have given in to the temptation to try and manipulate a situation and deflect responsibility in the past. Perhaps even with intent. What does that say about me? My character? My integrity. I won't ask for another batch of coffee. I don't want to be a source of cost or loss to a good person and business. I want to treat them the same way I would like to be treated; I'm not entitled to have someone else make good on my own mistake and be subject to replace coffee beans that I can "live with." It's my problem.
Lucky is on my lap as I write this, and my thought gravitates to his bottom lip being hurt due to our play with the basketball in the backyard. I bounced or rolled it to him, and he went full force into it. This is one of those instances where I feel bad for not having thought thru the risks before doing so, and now he's got a sore to contend with. Is it my fault? It is without intent or malice. It's not as if I kicked him out of anger and caused his suffering because of that, but I still feel bad for him. And I often wonder what they experience and feel in their consciousness. Does he remember how his lip got hurt still or exists with a dull pain yet- no recollection of its origin? What goes on in their heads? They both get upset by Jen's absence or excited when we return, but do they know each time one leaves that they will come back? Do they have a sense of past and future? Memories and anticipations? or are they merely living, constantly, in the present moment? I consciously aspire to live fully in the present moment. But without the broader knowledge of my history, desires and aspirations, would that have any value or impact? If I felt joy, then pain, then calm, then anxiety, then curiosity and so on, all just as it occurs without any reference point to why I feel that joy (playing), that pain (a hunt lip), that calm (a nap), that anxiety (owners go out) that curiosity [a car dries by)... if each moment is simply the present moment sans context, the experience, I assume, would not carry the significance of a conscious, constant frame of reference.
Our wine tasting last night was a hit. I learned a great deal from it that I will bring into the next one. I put a lot of effort into ensuring I needed to figure out which bottle was which. I wanted to "play along" with the rest of our guests. The takeaways are better forms for the process, copies for "dry" tasting, food pairing, dessert pairing, and a final total summary vote. The next time, we will have a bottle each attendee brings, so no one person knows all the wines until the end. The meal was a hit, as was the flourless torte I made. The sous-vide try-tip was too rare with 6 hours of cooking, so next time, we will target 5 or 6. we used the crystal wine glasses because I wanted the same baseline for all 6 of us. My glass's stem broke in half as I was lifting it. It was between pours, empty, and it did no damage to me, but part of me was happy about it. I am ready to move on to something new. These have served their purpose.
I invited Tommy to have breakfast this morning at L. G. cafe. The uptown one had a long wait, a surprise for a Saturday, but we got seated immediately downtown. He picked up the tab, which was not my desire or expectation. The waitress commented that she does that for her parents and what a pleasure it is to be able to do so. Tommy replied, "we only have so much time to do so, " which hit a nerve. His wounds run deep. and my days are, indeed, numbered. So I should enjoy the time and accept the transition to being old more gracefully. It's a very awkward position for me. And I feel like I'm being forced to face my age through this process.
Lauren and I visited Linda's grave and ran a few errands afterward. As we stood there looking at her headstone, I realized that today is February 18, while the date on her headstone is March 18. It's been 11 months since she died. What a year. What a couple of years. Next month, the week after that one year has passed, we will be heading to Catalina for a vacation we began planning well before her death, before her diagnosis, and before she took her last breath. Covid delayed it, all this happened in between, and it will come about on the heels of what was likely the most trying and traumatic two years of our lives. We all need it. I know I sure do.