I think you're just attracted to my coffee breath.

 Getting coffee the other day, a man approached me and said I smelled good. I said, "Who, me?" He said when he walked by me in the coffee shop, I smelled good. 

"Thank you?" I must have asked it as a question because who says that? I don't think anyone has ever said that to me except maybe a lifetime ago when I cared about such things.

I have to admit, it made me smile a little. I don't think he was flirting. (He was probably half my age). I was just tickled to be seen and for someone to say something nice to me, a stranger. (Truthfully, I hadn't even showered yet.)

When my name was called and I retrieved my coffee from the collection of coffees ready at the counter, we exchanged smiles and wished each other a good day and I went home feeling the warm of that brief exchange.

It wasn't until I got home that I contemplated that he might have been talking to someone who was directly behind me the whole time.

I drank my coffee and then I headed for the shower.

You thought Daylight Saving Time was a problem ...

 ... wait until we have leap hours!

If you're reading this, it's not likely you will ever see a leap hour but since the leap second was recently abolished, scientists are debating what to do with all that extra time. 

The average year is really 365 days, 5 hours, 48 minutes, and 45 seconds. Thus, we have leap years. (Wikipedia: Tropical Year) But each year is different and so additional fine tuning was required which is how we got leap seconds.

The leap second was introduced to reconcile different time scales: one that was defined by atomic clocks and the other that measured the actual rotation of the Earth. (Wikipedia: Leap second) There have only been 27 leap seconds since 1972 when they were first implemented. But leap seconds caused problems. For example, midnight does not occur simultaneously around the world. The leap second in Japan would not occur at the same time as a leap second in the United States. In 2015, the leap second caused interruptions with Twitter, Instagram, Pinterest, Netflix, Amazon, and Apple's Beats1. The Intercontinental Exchange (parent body to clearing houses and stock exchanges) ceased operations for 61 minutes at the time of the June 2015 leap second.

One proposed alternative to the leap second is the leap hour. Fortunately, this would only occur once every few centuries meaning I'll never see one as the leap second was only abandoned a couple of weeks ago. A leap minute is also possible which, if you're young enough, you might see in about 50 years. But think of the problems a leap hour or a leap minute would cause. 

Although there would be plenty of time go figure out how to implement the leap hour or leap minute, another option is to update the definition of a second altogether. Currently, the second is defined as 9,192,631,770 cycles between two energy states of caesium atoms exposed to microwave radiation. (The Economist: The second may soon be redefined, October 21 2026)

Easy for you to say. 

Scientists are now developing clocks based on different chemical elements which can measure time more precisely than caesium clocks. Metrologists (not meteorologists) are scientists specializing in the science of measurement. They have given themselves until 2030 to redefine the second.

Stay tuned. Only time will tell.

The Coffee Bribe

 When we roadtrip, our goal is to leave the house by 10 a.m.. This is because Hubby knows that coffee motivates me. If we leave after 10 a.m., I will have had my coffee so there is no incentive for me to go anywhere. I'm perfectly content to be where I am. 

But Hubby knows he can bribe me to action by offering to buy me a coffee for the road. If I'm packed and ready to go by 10 a.m., he'll stop at the nearest coffee joint so I can get a cup for the ride. Sometimes, the bribe is to go earlier than 10 a.m. with a stop an hour or so into the drive for a coffee. No matter, as long as I have coffee by 10 a.m.. 

He knows what's best for him.

Hint to any future employers: Coffee also functions well as a bribe at work. I do good work. I am motivated by an "atta girl" but I'll do almost anything for a coffee gift card. (Cash works, too, but just so you know, you can get a lot of good work out of me with just coffee.)

I'm always upfront about this with employers but they think I'm joking. To be clear, I am not joking. Buy me a coffee and see what happens!

Well, hire me first. (Individual tax prep is my specialty, if you're wondering. I'm good with general office work, too.)

Darn it! My cup is almost empty. That means I have to go do something.

Argh. Too bad I don't have another coffee.

Coffee Break is my favorite time of day.

 Maybe you already know this about me, but I like coffee. 

That being said, you might ask, what am I breaking from? I answer, does one need a reason for a coffee break?

My day goes like this:

• 
  Wake up
• Walk
• Breakfast
• Take a coffee break

While that doesn't sound like the kind of schedule that would require a break, I always look forward to a homemade latte. I love making it and I love savoring it. 

Lately, I've been using my coffee break as a time to do an insanely difficult puzzle (like the new Killer Sudoku from the LA Times website). It's mentally stimulating (in a challenge-your-brain sort of way) but it is arguably a huge waste of time (meaning it's totally non-productive).

The thing is, I can easily list a dozen things I ought to be doing but nothing that has a deadline which is a problem for me. I can just as easily put off everything on the list.

Coffee Break is a wonderful time to write, as I'm doing now. It's also the perfect time to call a loved one to check in and connect.

The biggest problem is this: The worst time of the day is when Coffee Break is over.

Now I have to get back to doing ... something.

Happy Birthday to Me!

This year, I got exactly what I wanted. 

I got up this morning and walked four miles (round trip) for my free coffee at Starbucks. Size: Fill it to the top, please!

I told the barista that I had contemplated bringing my Happy Birthday helium balloon bouquet with me on this birthday coffee trek. He wasn't too sure how to respond to that so he just smiled at me nervously and said, "Next in line?"

Both there and back, I contemplated all that I have to be grateful for. Life itself, for one. I'm soon to be four years cancer free. That's pretty awesome. I'm thankful for that every day. I'm married 37 years (to the same person!) and I have a beautiful family. 

But what really amazes me is the love that surrounds me today. It's hard to describe because it's really there every day. People lean in to whisper I love you. Some with simple words. Some with many, many words (you know who you are). The effect is the same. I feel touched. Seen. Loved. How can I not feel grateful?

3.7 miles, total elevation gain 1,957 ft.

I'm grateful for what my body allows me to do every day. Like this, for example: 

I bought new shoes (after 1,250 miles on my last pair), tickets to a play, a new skirt (recently), and made reservations for dinner at my favorite sushi restaurant. I treated myself to a facial and painted my toenails. I might get crazy and paint my fingernails as well. There's a Diabolical level Sudoku waiting for me plus a new book to read.

I've had greetings in multiple languages, from multiple countries, and my husband made me breakfast (and cleaned it up!). 

All of it, it's honestly more than I could have wished for. But I'm glad that I have it. And I'm thankful for everyone who shared in it with me. Thank you. 

Frankenstein Skirt

 I have 22-year-old denim. That I still wear. Not often because it's basically disintegrating. But I love it and I keep patching it up as best I can. And I wear it when I think I can get away with it. At a brewery on a Sunday, for example. (Not that I would know ...?)

I used to call it my Million Dollar Skirt. I wrote about it 12 -  twelve - years ago. Follow the link to read about it; I just read it a few minutes ago and was shocked to learn this denim is at least 22 years old. (Thanks for the semicolon, Dad! Still suffering from parenthesitis, -p. Miss you!)

I was at Costco recently buying a few things when I felt a draft on my derrière. I was wearing my denim skirt. I knew that I had a hole below the left rear pocket but I didn't think it was that big. Had it gotten bigger? My ass size hasn't changed that much although it would be fair to say it's lower to the ground than it used to be. (And I never upgraded to Kevlar.) The waistband has now frayed like a friar's haircut and the pockets couldn't possibly hold loose change. But, still, I can't imagine getting rid of it although it's hanging by a thread. (What's left of them.)

In a rare moment when I was ironing things, I decided to apply some iron-on patches. It's too late to breathe new life into my aged skirt. But could it be saved? Feeling desperate, I pressed on.

To review, the skirt started as a pair of jeans. Five years after I bought them, the backside fabric gave out. (Clearly, they were not Levi's.) I wasn't ready to get rid of them so I sent them to an outfit in New York, Denim Therapy, which is, amazingly, still in business (and who might be hearing from me in the very near future). They re-wove the fabric so I could continue to wear my beloved jeans for another five years. At some point, the knees gave out so I mailed the skirt to someone in Michigan (I think) to have the jeans converted to a skirt (because I don't sew). Then, 12 years ago, I wrote about how I got to wear my then reincarnated jeans skirt. I've been wearing this denim - in one form or another - for 22 years!

Fast forward, Costco and iron-on patches. Four:

These jeans are older than I was when I first got married. (And look how that turned out.) I've had these jeans longer than I've had any pet. So when the time comes - and I'm preparing myself for this eventuality - they might be buried in the back yard.

RIP will be an appropriate epitaph.

Look at what my husband gave me!

 

Happy Anniversary!

His timing was perfect. I was just coming home from Costco (from whence the flowers were purchased) and he was just coming home from an appointment. We arrived in garage at the same time.

"Perfect timing," I said as I handed him the flowers. "You can give these to me."

He looked at them, smelled them, and then handed them back to me saying, "Happy Anniversary!" 

It will be 37 years on Monday so I have the experience to know that if I wanted flowers, I was going to have to get them myself. Besides, he's been super busy so I know he has given our Anniversary little thought.

He'll be "giving" me flowers again on Valentine's Day this year because, guess what? Valentine's Day is the same day as the Super Bowl this year. Incidentally, that's also the same day as I'm participating in a half marathon so maybe he'll get me two dozen.

No need to feel sorry that I have to self-supply the roses. He gets to pay the credit card bill. :-)

Ask me how fast I was going!

On a recent trip to Napa, I discovered the Napa River Trail - a beautiful place for a four-mile walk. I found an access point and headed north from Kennedy Park. After about 2 miles, averaging about 18.25 minutes/mile, I stepped on the gas. Up to this point, I got "good morning"s or "hello"s or a nod from other trail users.

I did mile 3 in about 13.25 minutes, five minutes faster than my last 2 miles. Now I was getting smiles that said, "How cute. Look at that little old lady trying as hard as she can."

After I turned back for my final mile, I was heading into a slight wind and I was really huffing and puffing. I passed a couple of trail users I had passed earlier and now the smiles were like "I see you" and "Respect!" I stayed to the right to allow others to pass. Soon, a group of bikers came along all wearing their brightly colored spandex shirts. They were chatting idly about this or the other trip to Europe, presumably a biking trip. None said "hello." None said, "On your left." None said, "Respect!"

Yes, I was walking. But I was killing it.

Finally, my watch indicated that I had finished my 4th mile. The bikers - maybe 20 of them - had already passed me by. I glanced at my watch to see how I finished. When I saw the time, I thrust my hands in the air like I had just crossed the finish line of a marathon. Yes!

I texted Hubby that I was finished and would meet him at our rendezvous spot. As I arrived, I found the bikers taking a break. They filled the trail and said nothing as I worked my way around them to a shady spot where I could stretch while I waited for my ride. I was on one side of a road facing the bikers. They were on the other side facing me. 

I wanted to shout at them, "Ask me how fast I was going!" I imagined they would all shout back, "How fast were you going?" And then I would tell them. And then they would say, "Good job!" Or, "Nice work!"

It wasn't my fastest mile but it was pretty dang fast. And I was feeling good.