All posts tagged: coffee

Chapter 5: You Only Get One Chance to Do This Right…Don’t F it Up.

Another poignant moment came thanks to an acupuncturist. I was in a session for a leg injury and I told him the story of my bag. He said, “I have another patient I should put you in touch with. She’s a gem and she’s high-up in fashion design. Let me call her for you.” He did. And he put me in touch with her. This sent-from-the-fashion gods woman offered to meet me for coffee on a beautiful summer morning. I thought I’d need to impress her because she was a high-power consultant at Saks Fifth Avenue. I met her on a street corner. I walked with her to an uber-crowded Starbucks and she said, “I hate waiting in line for corporate coffee. You wanna just hit the coffee truck?” Again: the kind of grounded attitude I never expected in the fashion world. We walked out, I splurged with $2.50 for two light-n-sweets from a coffee cart and we sat on a bench. I told her my concept and showed her sketches and even brought swatches …

The happy meal place (or: the time I took a side of parentheses with that)

First of all, if there was any question in your minds, let me shuffle-ball-change out of the closet loud and proud: I’m a food snob. I wholeheartedly embrace Michael Pollan’s “Eat food. Not too much. Mostly vegetables.” When I was the perfect parent (meaning: before kids), I knew fast food would never touch the lips of my precious snowflakes. Admittedly, it’s easy to avoid fast food living in New York City. You’re never in a car, the kids haven’t fallen asleep in the back, and all food is fast. But I understand that fast food drive-thrus are a godsend…in desperate situations… zombee armageddons, heavy thunderstorms and refugees. Oh, and when Daddy flirts with jail time during a road trip due to a desperate yearning for “friesandashake” and considers* leaving the kids asleep in the backseat cuz who’s gonna know and you’ll be really fast and besides the dog’s in there with them. But we all know (don’t we???) that McD’s is responsible, in part, for the destruction of now-infertile fields from Fargo to Fresno, the …

It’s My Birthday. Calm Down.

Today is my birthday. My 40th. How did this happen? Old people are 40. Not me. People like figures of authority and teachers and parents and people accomplished who have life figured out and are settled in lives devoid of complaint or worry. Me? I’m still 25. And (currently, perennially) unemployed. I don’t have anything figured out. I still have many chapters of life and things to check off my list. How did I get to be 40? Admittedly, I look at pictures of my kids and see a man with lines all over his face in the background and I think, “Wait. Is that really ME?” Somebody called me Mr. Lodge, yesterday. Um…that means I have things figured out. No wonder the Holden Caulfields of the world see adults as phonies. We’re all just faking it, too. Is that a secret to life? I suppose. I’m mildly annoyed by the birthday “event”. I basically “wish away” these pain-in-the-asses where I should be happy or thrilled or partyrific or whatever. But more often than not, …