Oh Mercy Me

Tonight, as the Black Eyed Peas once said, is going to be a good night. (The royal) We are celebrating the birthday of a good friend at Cooper's in Nevada City where Burning Man's own Camp Wannaburn will be in attendance and, if all goes according to plan, golden. The festivities, however, will be undertaken with an asterisk because in the back of my mind I will have the knowledge of a 7AM wake up call in my ever-drawing-closer future. Alas, all such fun is had at the expense of some setbacks and sacrifices to one's personal comfort.

The reason for the 7AM wakeup? Bells! I hear the bells, not in the Mike Doughty sense (although that too). In my leisure time I have chosen (or rather was implored) to play with the Grass Valley Methodist Church's own Wesley Ringers - a handbell choir directed by my mom's good friend. Therefore, tomorrow morning at 8AM I am going to be ringing in praise to the Lord (I think). Should be fun. Either way, the early birds shall be rewarded by (semi) sweet tunes. Let's hope I have the constitution and poise to ring in quietness and confidence...

Flavors!

Hey all,

Just spent the last couple hours plugging away at the code for a new digital toy I have found (well, actually, recommended to me by my good friend Mr. Bonbonelan). Check it out and, if you feel like burning a few hours making yet another possibly useless internet footprint, make yourself a flavor!

-Max

Gravity

This is going to be a short one...

A few things (in list form, for you-know-who-you-are):

1) Day at work, etc. Nothing special except for a text from a friend who would like me to do some photography for promotional material for her dance show. Meeting tomorrow. Very exciting to finally do some quazi-professional photographing. Should be good stuff.

2) Tomorrow marks the one week countdown until a certain special somebody hops on a jet plane and makes the trek down south for a few days away from the gloom of Seattle in the gloom of Grass Valley/Nevada City.

3) Purchased a copy of Dune for $3 and plan on finally reading it so I can figure out what the hell everybody is talking about (mainly my good friend @bonbonelan for all of you Tweeples)

4) Snow Patrol is such a legitimate band whose first few albums really notched them highly in my nostalgic all-time list. If you haven't heard albums 1-3 do check them out (and don't pay too much mind to anything after Final Straw).

Happy trails~

Observations on a Monday Afternoon: What Surrounds You?

Greetings all on a day I have to think is reserved for pacific coasts. I feel like I should be in Santa Cruz with the wispy clouds carrying across the sky, propelled by chilly breezes to accentuate the sun, bold and warm up above. A halo of evergreens encapsulates the parking lot filled with cars washed clean by weeks of rain. Some few bare trees climb up from concrete planters garnished with pansies - gold, blue, purple, maroon, white - that have all seen better days. Next to the cafe door stands an ash tray where cigarette butts stand in front of their reflection, brown against the white of the "no smoking" sign. Next to the ash tray, a planter box where a week before two parents neglected to notice their children tearing apart the daisies. Birds - small black indistinct ones that probably have a name no one seems to know - they provide a soundtrack drowning out conversations from neighboring patio tables. These conversations undertaken by people who seem unwilling to look each other in the eye, distracted by cell phones and coffee cups and glances into the blinding reflection of the sun off cars in the parking lot.

Here is an ebb and a flow of humanity as those passing by cross paths with those just lingering. Mothers who drag their children en route to the CVS are forced to negotiate a herd of cafe patrons, gently strolling in front of the store either chatting on cell phones or sipping some beverage out of a monotonous ceramic mug. The passersby seem not to notice as one or two casual newspaper readers glance up with an intrigued look in their eyes. They are bearing witness to the human experience - perhaps one they have had themselves or, if not, one that they can easily formulate and play in their minds. "This is parenthood" they tell themselves. And for me, it could be what is to come. Or, it could be a warning, a point for consideration. Anything, I suppose, can happen when observing the human condition on a sunny winter day.

Softly, Slowly on a Sunday

It was a gentle morning in cloudy Grass Valley, CA and I woke to a potato scramble on the stove and the Cavs on the tele. Oh, the perks of living with one's parents! Unfortunately, the Cavs lost, but the scramble was good. I'll cut my losses. Today is a working day at the Flour Garden Bakery where the early afternoon has been steady but not overwhelmingly busy. I made the executive decision to put on my iPod instead of submitting to the powers of satellite radio - a solid decision. Iron and Wine is on loop and it seems to have brought with it a sense of subtle tranquility no doubt aided by the muted light radiating through the heavy clouds. Some slight sprinkles in the morning have given way to some gorgeous, fluffy cumulus clouds that hint at blue sky and sunshine behind. Perhaps a good day to be bustling around a cafe...

As I am munching a snack of chicken salad sandwich, cream of asparagus soup and an iced americano (something I would definitely recommend to a coffee fan interested in diversifying the palate), I am thinking about the amount of plastic I use every day - especially those that I am at work. The sandwich was shipped from out bakery location to the store in a plastic storage container to minimize soggyness, the soup was earlier packed in a plastic container to freeze and the drink I made in a plastic to-go container. If this is just one meal had by one customer, consider multiplying that by 300 (representing how many customers order coffee/food to-go each day at Flour Garden). The numbers are staggering. I feel like as a culture we are letting our guard down against unnecessary waste in the guise of convenience. It really wouldn't be that much harder for us to serve sandwiches on reusable plates and only offer up packages for customers to take things on the road. Alas, I am just one voice in the stream of a culture of convenience. New goal: one time each day I will opt against using a plastic container, or a bag to go. If 10 of us made this goal, that is 70 containers every week that we would save. Think about it and ask your friends to do the same perhaps. Maybe it really is the small things that make all the difference...

Musings on a Friday

Greetings friends. I am not sure if this is being felt by anybody else, but the last three days have been fully strange in the little, bitsy realm I call my life. Perhaps it is the cosmic energy shift created by 1,000,000,000+ Catholics repenting on Wednesday, or maybe left over energy from the new moon? Regardless, the last few days have had an inexplicably aggressive tone to them, leading myself and some of my acquaintances to ask "huh?" Well, I hope wherever you are, you haven't been feeling the same bad joojoo I have. Anyways, it's Friday, snow should be falling in the mountains and life could certainly be much, much worse.

Today the espresso machine at the Starbucks next door to my coffee shop broke, leading a slew of under-caffeinated and bitter customers through our door. Good for business, bad for morale. As I was helping the helpless, who for the most part lacked the basic communication skills necessary to order coffee beverages in a language other than Starbucks jargon (don't even get me started on a sizing system where the smallest size is "tall"), I began to think about what it was that I truly despised about these people. They were coming into my store, regardless of their motive, and spending their money to help fund my paycheck and support a local business, even if it was just the once. The fact that they were only equipped with the vocabulary sold to them by a corporation's brilliant marketing campaign is not entirely their fault - do we not all submit to some form of consumerist propaganda or another? I, for one, am a complete sucker for GAP jeans. But the part I found to be the most fascinating is that while under a normal coffee rush where customers are often bitter after having to wait 10-15 minutes in line before we can help them, these Starbuckians seemed as if nothing at all was out of the ordinary about waiting in line for so long just to buy a cup of coffee. My assessment of the situation is that they are, for the most part, so used to waiting in line next door that it just makes sense to them that they wait and wait and wait for us counter staff to fulfill the little nitpicky requests of everyone in front of them. These people had been conditioned to wait patiently for their daily caffeine dispense and, opposed to our usual customers who have questions about the gluten-free flours we use and random inquiries about the dairy content of our asparagus soup, the Starbuckians walked up with cash in hand, ordered their drinks and then stood aside so the next customer could get their fix. It was strange. I felt almost culture shocked by their presence and awkwardly alright with their upfront approach to the business of getting coffee. I'm not saying that I would advocate the bastardization of European coffee culture that Starbucks represents, but I suppose my skin isn't crawling quite as much as I'd expected by the end of the day. I'm not sure what it all means, but that having been said, I would just like to remind you all that true friends don't let friends drink Starbucks.

For those of you interested in the fight against Starbucks and often find yourselves on the road (particularly if you have one o' them confangled iFone thingys), here is a really cool website that "delocates" you to an independently owned alternative based on zip codes. Pretty cool...

Tomorrow I brave the ice and wind and snow and pocketbook to head up the mountain for some Squaw Valley snowsporting. It should be a beautiful day with some ice in the AM, sunny skies and a bit of Olympic spirit as we bring in the 50th anniversary of Squaw's 1960 Winter Olympic Games. Excitement. (See Also: My first time snowboarding Squaw)... More to come.