Extra Coffee

Rationing coffee consumption has taken effort.  I became an enthusiast, if not an addict, early in college.  The main cafeteria offered a Bottomless Cup with free refills for 10 cents.  I would add a pastry, most often a bow tie, for another quarter.  Frequently a friend from around campus would bring his breakfast, usually more substantial than mine, to my table.  We would chat about any variety of topics until the clock nudged us to our first classes.  Later, I bought an orange percolator, an electric one of questionable legality in the university dorm, where I would add some caffeine in preparation for intense study as key exams approached.

Coffee has taken many routes since then.  An introduction to specialty coffee worthy of a premium at a unique shop within walking distance of my apartment.  Free coffee provided by vendors or employers.  Technology advanced.  I still have a stovetop percolator, though my beloved orange electric one is no more.  Technology brought us Mr. Coffee drip machines, Melitta cones, k-cups, and Starbucks.  Instant coffee, the staple of my parents and my intro to coffee as a teen, still appears in my pantry though as an additive to baking, never as a beverage.  

For sure, the many variations of coffee attracts me.  It has for more than fifty years.  It also has its physiological effects.  Studying for an exam, a safe boost when needed, if not needed too often.  Awake in the morning to perform the day's tasks, that's probably the reason for its global popularity.  Conviviality, whether at the university cafeteria or at a lounge or a reception.  Legitimate purpose.  Adverse effects crop up too.  Sleepless after those evening receptions concluded with dessert and coffee.  Withdrawal symptoms when deprived on religious fast days or mornings when I need to leave in a harried way to get coffee when I arrive or en route.  And that's without getting into the many reports of long-term benefits or harms.  Despite the advancing sophistication of science, these observational studies seem to segregate into results that pitch the sponsor's fondness for or aversions to my preferred morning stimulant.

Incessant of injudicious consumption had to stop.  I imposed some form of rationing, though a lenient one.  On days at home, two k-cups worth, with the Keurig Machine set at 8 ounces.  When I deserved a treat, I could go to a coffee shop at mid-morning.  On mornings with OLLI classes, one cup of coffee from my k-cup plus some to take to OLLI in a thermal mug.  One class mornings get 10 ounces made in a home Keurig machine poured into a 14 ounce cylinder with a sipable top.  Two class mornings entitle me to a little more.  I fill a 16 ounce thermal mug with water, then pour that into a French press prefilled with two coffee measures of specialty ground coffee.  Wait four minutes, depress the plunger and pour into the now empty mug.  Sip during and between classes.

While I've been faithful to this limitation, I've also used access to extra as a reward.  A superlative effort at my laptop or enhancing my home in the morning entitles me to more coffee at late morning.  This is usually fulfilled at a coffee shop, as the attention to details of brewing that the baristas offer enhances my entitlement for a job well done.  Infrequently, the reward comes from the Keurig machine.

My good faith effort has its lapses.  Rarely do I purchase WaWa or 7-Eleven coffee, though they offer tasty options of major variety and let me customize.  Travel changes that.  On occasion I go out for breakfast, maybe twice a month.  Coffee and one refill become part of that experience.  And that's added to the eye-opening cup I make for myself before leaving home.  Fortunately, evening receptions where coffee is served have become infrequent.  While suppliers indicated that decaffeinated coffee tastes similar to its raw prototype, it registers in my mind as deprived, adulterated coffee.  Maybe because I remember an Organic Chemistry Lab module where we had to extract caffeine from tea.  Very artificial with exogenous chemicals.  I avoid that even at the risk of a night's insomnia.

Those fifty years since the college cafeteria have taken the coffee industry on a forward path, whisking me along with it. I enjoy the variety, availability, and ease.  But for my own safety, I set limits.  My adherence to self-created restrictions plays out as mostly beneficial, with only a minimum sense of deprivation.

Priced Beyond Good Will

 

There was a time, probably pre-pandemic, though certainly through the bulk of my final working years, when Sunday morning would begin at a coffee shop.  Brew HaHa dominated, though at times I would vary the location to Einstein's, Starbucks, or Panera, mostly near each other.  My agenda mostly included some quiet time to plan the upcoming week.  I kept a black canvas zippered pouch with my supplies:  colored pens, colored highlighters, my semi-annual projects grid, a pad of 8.5 x 3.25 in paper culled from some fundraisers that send them in the mail, and a cardboard of the same size harvested from the back of a used up pad.  With pouch in my hand, I walked over to the counter to order my brew for the morning.  Typically they came in four varieties:  dark, blonde, flavored, and decaf.  Mostly I ordered dark, though I could be swayed by the morning's flavoring.  When given the option, I preferred a large porcelain mug which I would sip on site.  I put the pouch where I claimed my seat, then took the mug over to the fixings stations.  Half & half most weeks, cinnamon or nutmeg, on occasion brown sugar or cocoa.  Then I returned the ready to drink coffee to the table.  From the pouch I extracted five colored pens of which I had several brands:  black, blue, green, red, and purple.  Then my semi-annual grid, a page of the pad with supporting cardboard, and two highlighters in different colors.  As I nursed the morning's coffee creation, I planned my desired pursuits for the coming week and for that Sunday.

I could make coffee more economically at home, but too many distractions.  The pandemic changed my Sunday mornings indefinitely.  No longer working, I needed less quiet time alone.  I created My Space, designed for me to sit with my thoughts, though with everything I needed, including that pouch, within arm's length.  I had purchased a Keurig Mini-Express, a vast improvement over the Mr. Coffee generic K-cup unit that eventually failed.  I had K-cup varieties of my preference and mesh inserts to fill with my own ground coffee.  I had two workable French presses.  No need to go out for coffee.

My personal habits also changed for the better.  At a specified time two mornings out of three, I walked briskly on a home treadmill.  That time coincided with the times I'd be whiling my Sunday mornings at a coffee shop two weeks of every three.  And having committed to this physical activity on a priority schedule, I felt more energetic.  Some time later, I abandoned my SSRI which also improved my perceived well-being after a transition.  The coffee outing had lost its purpose, maybe even destructive to more important activities.

I didn't stop going to the coffee shops altogether, except for Starbucks, which got more expensive and, more importantly, withdrew my ability to choose my coffee additives myself.  However, weekly planning shifted to Sunday mornings in My Space, followed by a treadmill session if scheduled that day.  Periodically, would still feel a need to sit in a public space, even if tending to myself.  Brew HaHa and Panera still enabled that.  The time would be mid-morning.  In retirement, it need not restrict to Sundays.  Both places offered porcelain mugs, though I preferred Brew HaHa's service at a counter to Panera's self-serve kiosks.  Brew HaHa had another advantage.  Other people I knew also liked to go there.  Every few visits I could update with an old friend, usually a person of mental substance.

The coffee prices inflated, more noticeably as my attendance at the coffee shops declined in frequency.  I have enough money.  And the purpose for going there was never the coffee, which I could make easily at home.  That $3 or so served as temporary space rental, a place at a table for a half hour where I could type on my laptop or jot thoughts onto a paper pad.  I almost never purchased anything to eat, or an overpriced beverage with foam additive.  I rented space for about $3.

Might coffee be price elastic?  Despite my ample funds, might there be a threshold that negates my demand for either the coffee or a seat at the table?   Maybe.  Starbucks got the heave-ho at $3.25, part price, part forcing me to use a disposable cup, partly taking my freedom to customize away.  If it were $2.75 would I tolerate the irritations?  Probably not.  I go there for the experience or for quiet time to type away on my laptop.  I can still write, but with a lesser experience.

Panera kept the price more stable but also changed the experience.  I don't mind the kiosk.  The edibles remain very tempting but those clearly are price elastic.  As much as I like quiche or coffee rolls, the price rises eliminated them from what I order.  Brew HaHa remained the wild card.  For purchase of coffee, maybe at the upper edge, for purchase of an experience still acceptable.  For good reason, when I go there they seem to have more customers than the other places.  Yet each time I walk through their doors, maybe every couple of months, that coffee price rises another 10 cents.  I do not even consider the pastries.  

I did my Sunday planning at home.  Walked on the treadmill with slightly increased intensity and duration.  A reward seemed appropriate.  I drove to Brew HaHa, taking a writing pad with me.  A short line.  While waiting my turn, I looked at their beverage menu.  My size coffee $3.35.  It was $3.10 at my last stop there not very long ago.  I had more than enough cash, but not sufficient need for the experience of customizing my coffee and jotting my thoughts onto the yellow pad I brought with me as I savored a special dark roast that I do not recall having previously.  I guess the coffee and the experience are price elastic.

Coffee Downstairs

One of the curious Pesach deprivations for me has been to declare My Space chametzdig.  I never clean it.  Rarely do I eat there, but not never.  And I drink coffee in the morning and on many an afternoon a tumbler of ice to which about 50 ml of bourbon or scotch is added, then sipped while I type at my laptop.  The room is chametz.  As a result, during Pesach, I do not bring anything edible here.  I keep a special Melitta cone for the Holiday along with a fairly elegant stainless steel one-tablespoon scoop.  Filter in cone.  I bought a pack of 100 a few years ago, use maybe 15, wrap and store the rest between years.  Two scoops of commercial canned coffee in filter paper, then drip boiling water to fill a cup.  A splash of milk. Do this twice a morning.  However, I have to drink it in the kitchen.

My cell phone would get me to the internet but I leave it upstairs.  I could transport my laptop to the kitchen but table space is tight.  So I drink the coffee at the kitchen table without connection to the rest of the world, except for the radio tuned to the classical station.  To accommodate this, I've moved my morning medicines to the kitchen table to ensure full adherence.

A disruption for sure, though a petty one.  Four Pesach days are Yontif, one is Shabbos, so there are really only three days in which I am separated from my laptop while I sip coffee at the kitchen table.  My dependence on my morning habit, now well entrenched, just makes it seem more burdensome, though the rest of the year I still take morning coffee, made in the Keurig Express, to my desk, shabbos and yontif included.  The laptop stays closed, but instead I scan my whiteboard with its semi-annual projects list and my weekly initiatives to pursue those goals.  Coffee to accommodate Pesach downstairs has a different feel.  Restrained, confining.  Certainly when I travel, I also have morning coffee in a different pattern, whether at the hotel's buffet, a restaurant, or sometimes from a dispenser that I bring to my room or a public lounge.  That never registers as inferior.  Pesach coffee at the kitchen table, made without the Keurig Express generates a different experience.   A lesser one, though a temporary one.

Being Frivolous

Fun has never been a high priority, at least since my teens.  FB friends who learn that I have never been to a rock concert think I have missed out on some of life's most meaningful experiences.  I have never sought anything from a designer or patronized an exclusive store.  My two professional massages were gifts.  Not a chance that I would seek one out on my own, not on a cruise ship, not from a storefront franchise.  I've not had my hair styled, just efficiently cut after it's been overdue. I've never gone skiing or snowboarding, just snow tubing one time. Meals out are expensive for assigned special occasions, though never extravagant or at a place so exclusive that telling somebody I've eaten there would create an impression.  Some things are just frivolous, not worth purchasing.  Yet I have my own targeted amusements.  I have a liking for a day at a water park.  Linking one to an amusement park is even better.  On a cruise liner's chocoholic buffet, I arrive at the announced starting time, usually an hour when I would ordinarily be asleep.

Some things merge the utilitarian with the indulgent.  My insulated mug, obtained for free from a pharmaceutical company when they were still allowed to gift promotional items to doctors who might prescribe their products, served me quite well.  It has been many years since the companies got together amongst themselves and discontinued these items.  My mug still keeps coffee warm and it fits under the dispensing spout of my Keurig machine, but the seal between its plastic lid and insulated bottom has gotten loose.  Technology on these items has also advanced.  My original thermal travel mugs had plastic inside and out with a vacuum between layers.  My daily one has plastic on the outside, stainless steel on the inside.  The lever atop the lid moves across the top to allow coffee to flow, but does not always stay in the intended position as it sits in the car's cupholder.  Maybe time to replace.

As with most things, technology has come to the marketplace.  These travel mugs insulate more effectively, typically about five hours of hot, and about sixteen hours of cold.  Inner surfaces remain stainless steel but the outer part has transitioned to metal, usually a painted surface with fine texture in a variety of colors.  The shape has changed.  It is still possible to buy one that fits snugly in the center holder then expands upwards, but more cylindrical designs have taken over, presumably to capture better thermal retention properties.  Some have one diameter to fit in the holder, and a larger cylindrical shape above the holder.  Others are just cylinders.  Some have handles, though a two-cup car holder can really only accommodate one handle.  And the lids, while still plastic, seal tightly. Most have a more sophisticated and secure mechanism to keep the mug in its sippable and closed positions.  Moreover, the market for cold has expanded, so many have straws that attach to a male end on the underside of the lid to allow a straw to collect liquid while the user sips from a plastic lid segment that rises and lowers to allow consumption or seal.

Creative designers and patent attorneys have to be paid, so the modern mugs have gotten considerably more expensive.  Some coffee shops or iconic thermos brands offer their own logos at a premium.  It is not a trivial purchase anymore, though whatever the consumer selects should be durable.  

I went to several stores, mostly places I thought would discount them.  Poor selection, low quality at all of them.  I looked online.  Again, surprisingly limited selection, much harder to sort on Amazon than sorting shoes or shirts.  And while expensive, not so costly as to qualify for free shipping.  Some local stores only had the types with a straw.  Target had a fair selection, though priced above what I would be willing to spend for something useful, but not essential.

Finally I found the selection I needed at a Marshalls at a price acceptable to me.  I saw one just right.  Had it not only come in pink, I'd have purchased it.  As much as strive for gender parity in my professional world, and critique my synagogue for slouching on this, some things are just effeminate.  Teal green or battleship gray would be at the cash register.  But not lady pink.  Eventually I found a stainless steel travel mug, right size, right top, right price.  Selected that.  And for the same price, I selected a second one, smaller volume, more cylindrical, name-brand, semi-mechanized top.  Took both to the register for roughly the same price one at Target would have cost.  And I paid cash.  Not perfect in design like that pink one, but either will keep my morning coffee hot longer than it would take to drink it, most at OLLI, but also on some half-day travel.  

Everything has a downside.  Both are too tall to fit under a Keurig machine, so I will need to fill a cup and pour it if I make the coffee that way.  Or better, it might be a good excuse, once a day, to make better coffee in a French press or Melitta cone, then pour it into the insulated cylinder before heading to the car.  And since I know what the ideal option is, I can keep my eye out for one in a more acceptable color.

Hot coffee, good coffee, the best I can make at home, is not frivolous.  Coffee shop prices can be if coffee is the product being sought, not frivolous if I am paying $3 to rent space for undistracted Me Time or camaraderie with others who see the coffee shop as a non-alcoholic Publik House.  The mug, judiciously chosen, adds to the enjoyment.  To-Go, Starbucks or WaWa's cardboard option just doesn't match the pleasure of liquid still hot an hour later.  A quality insulated mug, one that should last years, or for me two new ones, searched through several stores for the best buy, should keep the morning coffee worthy of a slow sip in the OLLI Lounge, the classroom, or on the Interstate.

Escape for Coffee

Coffee Houses of Europe. They go back a long ways, not only as places to perk up for the day but places to enhance the mind and spirit.  Friends met there.  New friendships blossomed.  People wrote books, imagined their next musical creations, even discussed religion and politics in a cordial way.  And they sipped coffee, in part to block their adenosine receptors but also to savor the taste of a liquid not as readily available to them as it is to me.  I don't know what a Viennese menu would look like.  Most likely drip coffee and pastries.  And I would imagine on a chalkboard.  Maybe Turkish coffee or something made in a finjan, poured with ceremony.  I suppose they could froth milk with a whisk.  And no reason not to have a stovetop espresso brewer.  I really don't know the history of how the different forms of coffee preparation came to be.  

Coffee for me, as for many others in America and beyond, starts my mornings, nearly always at home.  Clever minds have created k-cups and drip machines that require no effort other than placing a cup in the right place and pushing a button.  There are drip machines for ground coffee and individual cones that require only a Melitta filter, a scoop of coffee from a can or bag, and some patience while hot water is poured over the ground beans.  Then the mug, mostly from my collection with decorations or writing that mean something to me, gets a splash of white stuff and goes upstairs to my desk.  Spills are rare.  I sip and begin whatever task I think best to undertake.  By the second cup, I feel fully alert.  Cost, minimal.  

We still have coffee houses and we have takeout, something our European forebears had not really thought of.  In my younger years, coffee at a diner counter was part of other caloric intake, though with the development of styrofoam and 7-Elevens, people could pick up a cup and move along.  Instead, we had coffee breaks, which exist today.  Workers set aside their tasks for some social time.  Food trucks stopped at large employers' parking lots.  Companies kept an urn in a central place.  Part nutrition, more restoration and interaction.  For about thirty years, though, the coffee house has been repurposed.  WaWa and the like does enough sales to offer a variety of urns with different flavors, then a counter where people can customize additives before placing a spill proof lid atop the cup, paying, and returning to their car.  They usually sip alone.

Starbucks and regional shops offer fewer varieties, usually four or so, but they offer people.  Sometimes people go as small groups, though usually not.  And they bring their laptop computers. Not that different from Vienna, where some came to schmooze while others came to work, though without that disturbing silence of a home nook or corporate cubicle.  

Periodically, My Space is not the best place to perform my next task, even if making the next cup of coffee is trivial.  It is often worth putting on a coat, deciding which of five destinations would be my preference and driving a few minutes to get there, select my coffee, pay the barista, and find a place at a table or counter, all before I've done anything productive.  Then as I sip, with chatter around me sufficiently unintelligible to keep me from trying to listen, I take out my pad and pen, rarely laptop or smartphone, and focus on the work I brought with me until the coffee is gone, sometimes a bit beyond.  I am not really buying coffee as much as I am renting workspace for $3.  Counting driving time back and forth, I could have devoted more task time by not venturing out but at the expense of focus.  So I travel a few minutes each way, settle down, but with coffee fixed to my preference I usually depart having accomplished something of satisfaction.  Never regret the effort or the expense.

Breakfast Where To?

No treadmill or stretch scheduled today.  No appointments.  One email invitation for late afternoon that I will tacitly decline by not responding.  And a small outing yesterday, a disappointing one at that, and two much more desirable places to be tomorrow.  No reason to get dressed today.  But these relatively infrequent blank days generally go better if I grant myself some kind of treat, either a reward for notable attainment later in the day or out for breakfast as a small reward for being fundamentally a decent person when my electronic news feeds show a deficit of honorable people.  So last night, I resolved to go out for breakfast today, even if it meant getting up at my usual time, grooming first thing in the morning and putting on the clothing I wore to my outing yesterday.  I even decided where.  When the clock radio flashed its red numerals, I dutifully got up, made coffee, outlined my day, washed as many milchig cups as I could fit onto the drying rack, then recycled yesterday's clothing.  I drove to my destination, finding it too islolated, so quickly selected a backup, where I spent a little more generously on an enhanced omelet and a slightly larger tip than I needed to offer. 

Breakfast has an interesting personal history, an offshoot of my autobiography.  Not living in a cave,  not being a hunter-gatherer with meal uncertainty, I am well aware of the expert consensus on the importance of breakfast.  It takes minutes to heat a pan and fry two eggs, a little longer to poach them.  Sometimes I have packaged hash browns in the freezer or frozen kosher vegetarian sausage links that take minutes to make.  And not that much cleanup either.  For all the Aunt Jemima controversies, I always admired her picture on the box.  She portrayed concern for the people she fed, racial stereotypes aside.  And now with Pearl Milling on the box instead, the prouct has become even easier to use.  Just mix in a 4:3 ratio with water in a coffee mug, maybe a half cup mix, stir a bit and pour into a hot oiled pan.  Flip once when bubbled, then transfer to a plate.  Pour some syrup, for which I have maple and few others at hand.  Then eat in minutes while drinking coffee.  Easy nutrition.  And when I go to the supermarket each week, some cereal is always on sale.  I get a box or two.  Yet it serves as a between meal snack.  I've not poured it into a bowl with milk in decades.  And instant oatmeal available in a variety of flavors goes on sale, can be made in minutes in a coffee mug, and eaten just as quickly.  Not bought toaster waffles in ages.  I have farina and wheatina and packages of real oatmeal and grits.  These are more tedious to make, so I rarely do, though have better sensory outcomes than the instant varieties.  And either bagels or English muffins usually occupy my refrigerator shelves, along with stuff to coat their bite surfaces.  No excuses, really, for not stacking my caloric needs earlier in the day, but I rarely do.  Instead, my fondness is for the antagonism of the adenosine receptors by coffee, most often my own as a k-cup into a porcelain mug.  Two cups worth while I sit at my screen.  Coffee in a mug is portable upstairs each morning.  In my commuting years, coffee was portable in a car, either in a paper cup from WaWa designed for the car or in one of many logo insulated mugs given to me by organizations in anticipation of or appreciation for some of my money.  And my fondness for varietal coffee tastes goes back to the 1970's when The Coffee Connection on Harvard Square or Peet's nearby offered experiences new to me.  Modern commerce and astute observers like Starbucks, K-cup manufacturers, and WaWa's knew that a lot of other people would pay a little extra to have their morning perk-up enhanced by the need to select from among taste options.  So, despite the relative eas of a caloric breakfast, my mind and later daily agenda prioritized wakefulness.  At least at home.

Having somebody else make breakfast is a whole other matter.  After a grueling night of weekend On Call during my medical residency, my first destination after signing out would invariably be Bickford's Pancake House.  All types of pancakes, multiple syrups.  I would never go there any other time.  And a pot of coffee to wash down those perfect pancakes, rarely duplicated since.  When I travel, breakfast always starts the day, whether at hotel, whether for professional or leisure travel.  Breakfast buffets ranging from packaged everything at chain motels to serious elegance at Caribbean resorts, Israeli hotels known for their arrays, or over the top cruise ship offerings each get a due measure of my time, and if more than cursory, a level of indulgence that carries me forward.  When not provided by my hotel, I seek out a pancake place mostly, though I will choose from the larger menu.  No skimping here. Omelet, hash browns, toast, coffee.  Always a big input of calories, as I will mostly not eat again until supper except for a cruise ship's day at sea when meals begin on arise and go continuously until bed time, interrupted by some aquatics.  So when I have breakfast I generally do it lavishly.  

Going out for breakfast has its home version.  While studying for my periodic professional exams, I would take my review book to one of several restaurants, bone up a bit on what I might be asked, while ordering either eggs or pancakes.  Once exams are over, I would often go out for breakfast on my days off, and when on weekend call, I would invariably break for a massive breakfast buffet across the street from the medical center where most of my effort would take place.  Occasionally the hospital cafeteria would have to suffice, though rarely for breakfast.  Over a number of years I accumulated my favorites.  Hollywood Grill a five minute drive was the default.  Coffee Station was nearest.  New places open, always tried out, others close.  Once retired, these outings drifted down to one or two a month.  And they started to include a few samplings that registered in my mind as no more repeat visits.  But those two a month or so became my most reliable breakfasts, and invariably my largest.

While I seek out breakfasts in public settings, whether my personal outings locally or as part of a travel experience, these meals rarely have a social component, though perhaps they should.  I am cordial to the waitress and tip adequately, but prefer the buffet to the menu and waitress.  For a while, my roughly weekly breakfasts at the Hollywood Grill seated me at a counter.  I recognized the waitress, her pleasant manner part of making this my preferred destination, and I came to recognize the many regulars who came each week.  I evesdropped on their banter with each other and with the waitress but never got invited into the conversation itself.  I effectively ate alone amid a crowd.  I could say this about most breakfast experiences, travel with my wife and me as a pair, breakfast locally or professional travel solo, irrespective of how crowded the buffet or commonality of purpose as at a professional annual meeting.  The exception, and not a very big exception, might be formal tours where the group assembles for the day's itinerary, but even there I usually seek out my own table, filling my plate with what I find most inviting, then letting my mind wander by itself.  On cruises, I am dining alone with my thoughts and plans, even with hundreds of others filling the tables and sampling the food at the buffet, which I invariably prefer to breakfast in the formal dining room.  There I sit with whomever the dining staff seats at my table, exchange pleasantries or maybe a comment on the ship's destinations.  But my breakfast table is not a place where thoughts, insights, or experiences transfer between people.  It is a place to sit quietly, think to myself, admire what the kitchen staff was able to assemble, and recover from the day past or anticipate the day ahead.  For as many people as may be present, breakfast from a simple bagel with homemade gravlax at home to the elegant repast of a classic Israeli hotel buffet, remains fundamentally Me Time.  A few minutes to make food choices perhaps but also time in a virtual cubicle that lacks separation walls.  

Might I do this better, or if not better, then differently?  I could take better advantage of what I already have at home.  When I go to the supermarket, I rarely target what I will have for breakfast, other than making sure I have enough eggs and perhaps deciding when I should make another pound of gravlax, which takes a few days.  Part of the barrier seems to be my treadmill schedule.  To do this without fail, I set a fixed time of 8:15, before calories other than coffee.  And this has been so successful, as it gets what I am most likely to make excuses to not do out of the way first, that I will not change the schedule.  But every third day there is no treadmill to walk.  I could target those for breakfast, two at home, followed by one away.  And after treadmill, I could eat something that takes little time or effort.

When I am out, can I take better advantage of the environment.  I prefer the open counter to a table, but even there, only the Hollywood Grill, now defunct, had an vibrant counter experience.  As I get to the other places a short drive from my home, the food really isn't that much better than what I can assemble myself.  The Country Buffet has become defunct, and I have little reason to be in that vicinity other than as a periodic platelet donor.  When I don't eat breakfast with any substance, I still have a measure of Me Time in front of my screen, checking messages, contributing my thoughts to recipients known and unknown in cyberspace.  So even if I could make breakfast more of a social experience, it would be infrequent, though more spontaneous in its interaction.  And professional travel is no more, recreational travel infrequent, and the buffets at places where I stay mostly cursory.  So my best upgrade would still be at home.  Perhaps starting with a real breakfast, the kind a dietician might recommend on the treadmill days off supplemented by two served breakfasts a month locally.  Small upgrades, both to my nutrition and my psyche.

In a Combative Mood

My disposition stands at the edge of belligerent.  Annoyed at trifles.  Ready for some conflict, though not really for destructive conflict.  Just the type that keeps me sharp and lets me express what I think.  

No particular reason why.  My schedule today got disrupted by a medical test scheduled amply in advance.  Slept poorly.  Coffee delayed until after test.  I'm just ready to fight about something.

There are some benefits to being disagreeable, as discussed at some length by Adam Grant in his Thinking Again.  And I have outlets for being disagreeable.

With schedule already disrupted, I'll go ahead and irk somebody while I catch up on coffee, then treadmill.

Perking Up

First cup of coffee not yet finished.  Morning pills swallowed and washed down with that coffee.  I had changed my sleep pattern last week, adding ten waking minutes to the beginning and end of each day.  It has gone well, particularly at the end when I know I must be engaged with something, even if only a worthwhile streamed TV show, until I am allowed into my bedroom.  The morning does not force awakening, as I am already awake for some time, as much as it does exiting bed to the next step of daily dental hygiene, also reset as a new habit about two years ago.  However, I do too much clock watching to assure I get all the bed time to which I am entitled, so I really need to reset the morning alarm on my smartwatch to buzz at the arising time.

I'm probably a little less tired on the new schedule, probably not yet significantly more accomplished in my activities.  I have been waking partially refreshed, though definitely ready for coffee, which I have not yet rationed.  Usually two cups before the treadmill, for which I also have a fixed schedule of days and a reasonably adhered to target time for doing this, though I welcome those scheduled rest days.  By treadmill's completion I am usually ready to engage in productive activities, not only fully awake but reasonably motivated.  I am not always optimally focused, though.  

While only less than two weeks into the revision, having a finite start and end of the day has contributed to what come in between.

Coffee Varieties

This week I can probably start each day with a different variety of coffee.  Some sales on K-cups left me with a supply of Martinson's, Breakfast Blend, Donut Shop Blend, and French Roast.  I have bags of Starbucks Verona Blend and Lavazza Italian Intense, and some coffee ordinaire, either Chock Full of Nuts or Folgers, I'd have to look.  And I have beans of a Hawaiian Blend which are probably long out of date.

To make them I have a Keurig Express, a k-cup adapter, two functional French presses, and a Melitta cone.  They can be lightened with powder, milk, or heavy cream.  And I have sweeteners and flavorings that I hardly ever use.

That's more choices than the coffee shops, which generally only offer three plus a decaf, though WaWa expands this.  There's the optimal number of choices.  From the coffee shop, I can get only one.  At home, over the course of the morning, more typically I choose two, sometimes a third later in the day, so there are advantages to the expanded options.  But unlike the coffee shops, I buy my k-cups cheap and on sale, so none of the blends approach gourmet, though my bagged coffee, always preground and on sale, does.

Coffee has become one of my morning pleasures, more a staple than a luxury, but elevated by the variety.  It has an element of function, fulfilled by Chock Full of Nuts or Folgers from a can, which I still keep available.  Cafeterias and diners around the world serve what their owners choose, regular or decaf.  And as a coffee novice learning to brew in my orange electric percolator during my college years, I was not selective either.  And in a sense, I'm still not very selective, defaulting to what I can buy for a discount.  But the various blends really are different in taste, though common in getting perked up for the rest of the day.

Late Coffee

As a reward for finishing my month's treadmill program, I allotted a morning's coffee and treat at a coffee/sweet shop that I pass every day but only have been to twice.  Not great coffee as coffee shops go but still a small novelty and reward for me.  I have to drive a little out of my way to get there, as access can only be had from the northbound side of a divided road, while my direct route would take me southbound.  Still, a treat, one anticipated overnight.

Treadmill done, and at an increased speed.  Good way to complete the month.  Got dressed and drove over.  No cars in their lot.  Drove to the door.  Don't open until noon on weekdays.  Guess they don't depend on people buying coffee.

So by 10AM, I've not had coffee.  While I could slip in a K-Cup, today was earmarked as a coffee change of pace.  Best option, probably percolator which I rarely use.  Next best, which I did, Vietnamese coffee in a French press.  It's really ground a little too fine for that but good enough.  Slight unwelcome splash onto my counter as I poured, maybe a small splash onto my clean cargo pants too.  But it's good coffee.

Coffee's Good

Some preparation for endoscopic studies changed my intake and activities for three days.  Due to a failed procedure and some bothersome delays on the repeat, I was especially meticulous for the preparation.  Three days before I began a clear liquid diet.  Coffee became black, with a splash of sugar.  Three 10 oz servings each of three mornings by k-cup, even finished three of the varieties, including two of them from a large box, though with enough of the final variety to tide me through the upcoming start of Pesach when the Keurig K-Express machine goes dormant for a week.  On the day of the procedure, no coffee, which may have been why I dragged a bit the rest of the day.

Coffee now restored.  K-cup instructed to fill 8 ounces, did not pay attention to which blend.  Zetz of generic coffee-mate stirred in.  Taking pleasure sipping it from one of my favorite cups.  It's good.  And when it's done, I'll make another cup.

One of the offshoots of this distraction, Sat-Sun-Mon-Tues, has been the diversion of my energy and my focus.  While glucose feeds the brain, and the soda supplied that, the body runs on a more varied array of caloric sources and a much larger total number of calories.  My weekly weight, a Monday morning ritual, ticked downward to a new low.  So now I know how to get my weight down, though not in the healthiest or most sustainable way.  The laxatives, spread over two evenings, sapped my strength, interfering with sleep the night before the procedure.  I just did not have the energy or mental acuity to do anything of substance that required analytical thought, memory, or sustained attention, which is the majority of my Semi-Annual projects.

While my checklist of the undone has grown, the colonoscopy behind me literally and figuratively, a very successful one well-worth the postponement of my personal productivity, I think I'm ready to resume the sustained effort and volume of work it takes to get these tasks moving toward fulfillment.

Fueled by coffee first, some calories later, and a very long written Daily Task List to extract the priorities.

Coffee Options

Each day pretty much starts with coffee, exceptions for Yom Kippur and Tisha B'Av.  The Keurig machine has made me lazy.  I keep four different varieties around, generated more by what is most favorably discounted than what I like.  Current k-cups:  Martinson's and three varieties of Shop-Rite house brand.  I also have k-cup adapters which enable any ground coffee.  Currently open containers:  one from Starbucks, one Folgers variety, and one from Vietnam.  These adapters do not work as well on my current Keurig Express as they did with the Mr. Coffee generic that preceded it.  And I have to wash the adapter, so they don't get used very much.  

There are other ways to make coffee.  Percolator was once my default, vivid orange electric one on nights before exam in college, now stovetop.  Not very adaptable to a cup or two and takes a while to make.  Rarely use it.  I have two espresso makers, electric assigned to a shelf in basement, stovetop above my stove with a deteriorated gasket.  It may be better just to replace the unit than to try to pry off the hardened gasket and replace it.  Not used it in recent memory, don't have espresso grind coffee in my kitchen either. I like my French presses.  Great coffee.  Used too infrequently.  Even the cleanup isn't arduous.  And the Melitta cone which preceded the availability of k-cups still gets used.  An exclusive on Passover.  I like the coffee.  Don't like having to pour successive aliquots, then watching it drip into the cup.  Filters starting to get pricey, even the house brand.  It does enable me to use more premium coffee than my usual k-cups.

And then there's going out.  Expense rarely worth it.  Coffee shops really only have three options: dark, light, and flavored, as I eliminated decaf from consideration.  WaWa has more.  I like their coffee.  Mostly a treat to put in the cupholder of my car if I have a substantial drive or when I am on a road trip with either my own car or a rental.  But making my own is more economical absent a special circumstance.

Enough options.  Too many choices invites dissatisfaction with the one selected.

Out to Starbucks

When I want to have some undistracted time, just me and my laptop, I remove the device's charger and head over to a place that sells coffee.  For about $3 I can rent a table or sit on a stool at a counter, creating the merger of mind and fingers to articulate ideas, some to be shared later, most not.  Coffee Houses have long been places where ideas float around, a few of them transforming the world. Through most of the time coffee and its variants have been available at a price most were willing to spend, thoughts were exchanged between sips, usually in the form of conversation with another fellow also sipping coffee.  They would be penned later by some.  The contemporary coffee house continues a similar, though not identical theme.  People share tables for conviviality and conversation.  Others like me bring their laptops with keyboards or cell phones without keyboards.  Some type away on Word, committing ideas to language, but more create private time by checking their email or interpersonal time by calling each other, texting messages, or contributing their thoughts through their favorite interactive cyberspace forum.  For me, it's private time to type what I wish to express with no regard for any future recipient.

The coffee houses of Vienna, Italy, and England probably had more distinctiveness than the places available to me, which have become standardized.  Some are regional, a few independent, more national or global with a repetitive atmosphere that enables familiarity despite travel.  The coffee itself can be obtained more economically at home with a Melitta Cone or K-cup machine.  For being alone, though with a car instead of a device, any convenience store in a gas station complex will provide that.  The Coffee House adds ambience, part of the premium price.  The beverages come in two types, indulgent creations and basic coffee, which I always choose.  And customers seeking the $3 quiet time typically get to choose from four options: light, dark, flavored, and decaf.  All provide connection to the electronic universe and to a restroom when needed.  And all have some form of mini-meal that can be added, one usually more healthy than extravagant.

Needing a break, I headed off, choosing a Starbucks, not the closest to my home but near a pharmacy where I had a prescription waiting to be picked up.  Some line of cars at the drive through.  That never made a lot of sense to me, as the WaWa across the street for a quick stop had more varieties, a lower price and a fixings table that permitted customization.  The lot for indoor coffee at a table was far less utilized.  I got mine, a very large one.  To my distress, the additive table was no more.  The barista added cream or sugar at the customer's request.  The other places that I could have gone still put out honey, cinnamon, sometimes cocoa powder, sometimes ground nutmeg.  Not here.  I took my laptop to the counter, the place where I could stare only at my screen.  The surface really needed to be washed down to remove the droplets of sticky scattered over it.  I moved to a table and typed for a while.

Sipped maybe a third of the coffee, a bit larger and thirty cents more than I thought I had requested.  Closed the laptop, returned to my car, got my prescription at the adjacent shopping center.  The European experiences of prior centuries has swooned.

Oat Milk

My coffee needs to be tamed down.  I have tried many additives:  heavy cream, light cream, half-and-half, whole milk which is the default, 2% milk, non-fat milk phooey, pareve Coffee Rich which has gotten hard to find, liquid Coffee Mate and its variants which I stopped buying even if discounted.  And those are the liquids.  I keep a stash of powders, Coffee Mate or generic facsimile, little packets mostly from airline trips which might be pareve but are usually dairy.  And flavorings.  Cinnamon, Pumpkin Spice my at home default, nutmeg, cardamom, chocolate powder, mostly tasteless vanilla powder.  Rarely sugar, and even then only brown sugar, with the disclaimer that powdered lightener probably has sugar too.  Rarely honey.  Stevia, Equal, Agave all phooey but sampled at one time or another.  Even the stuff El Exigente finds too inferior to purchase but I don't can have its limited palatability enhanced by what is at hand.g

I've not had Oat or Almond milk, probably by intent.  But for $1.99 a quart discounted at Shop-Rite, it made my maybe list.  I did not know it came in varieties.  I picked the creamy option.  Container was bottle-shaped, roughly like a liquor bottle with broad round base and narrow neck.  Unlike mass-produced liquid coffee creamer, it did not come in flavors other than vanilla, nor did it have a pouring spout.  You have to unscrew the top each time you want to pour some.

I thought it adulterated the basic taste of coffee.  It may be an acquired taste but I've not yet acquired it.  Don't know how long it keeps.  Since it is made as a milk substitute it may be a multitasker, suitable for quiche or other places where milk appears in the recipe, though I wouldn't consider it for preparations like Horn & Hardart Macaroni and Cheese that require nearly a half gallon of milk.  Will do my best to use this up but it won't be a repeat purchase, even if discounted again.

Out for Coffee

Coffee houses have been places of gathering for centuries.  Partly to get coffee, partly to engage minds.  It's still that way, though in a very different form.  Melitta cones, k-cup brewers, French presses are all durable equipment, with disposable filters and the ground coffee enabling anybody at home to get a decent cup, maybe a second or a third, at a fraction of what Starbucks or equivalent will charge for a marginally better tasting brew.  Unlike 18th Century Europe, or even the current Publik Houses of the British Isles, or even the NYC automats, people at American coffee houses don't really mingle randomly.  Sometimes we come with another person or two for a targeted conversation or to conduct business on neutral turf.  More often these days it's just me and my laptop with the fee for the beverage more a brief rental of space to sometimes connect with individuals or institutions located far from the site, sometimes to do work away from the distractions of the home base.

After some not very effective attempts to tell a story of squandered congregational standards left over from a few months back, I took my fully charged laptop to Brew HaHa, paid the $3 for a mid-sized dark roast, which I spiced with a splash of cinnamon and cardamom, left unsweetened, then placed the device and me at a quiet counter where my front line of sight only had a choice of the screen or an undecorated wall.  And I typed and I sipped.  All background to the story.  Never got to the main point that I want to tell, though I will eventually get there.  And once I do, I will need to edit out the background.  That took half a paper cup of coffee.  Closed the laptop, returned to the car, went home, let the story languish the rest of the day.  Left the coffee to chill in the car's cupholder until late afternoon.  Finished it.

Finish the story today, or at least its unedited draft.

Right Amount of Coffee

K-cups have transformed my morning experience, well worth the expense though I'm less certain about its likely environmental downside.  With variety options sorted in a revolving rack, and with scooped coffee that can be brewed in a k-cup adapter, each morning cup can be a little different.  I've hardly been out for coffee since the pandemic.  Even WaWa which offers the most variety, has challenged its price elasticity, now limiting this to a justifiable indulgence or traveling convenience.  But K-cups are the way to go, suspended for Passover, though technically with some effort or expense, they don't have to be.

Coffee at my desk in My Space has become the norm.  While loyalty to the core principles of sleep hygiene has made me less tired when my wrist alarm makes me woke, I still seek the boost of my first cup of java from the Keurig facsimile.  And the second cup.  It's that third cup later in the morning that seems to be changing the ritual.  It goes well with my OLLI schedule, not as well with my shabbos schedule.  And unless traveling or left over from the morning, never past 1PM.  

I experience it as part taste, which is why the ease of variety has become so attractive, and partly medicinal which is why it needs some restraint from excess.  My current pattern seems sustainable, the way to go after much trial and surprisingly little error.

French Press Coffee

Don't know how well I slept. There was a storm overnight, lots of wind.  Would have been a problem snowstorm, not a problem limited torrential rain, except for sleep disturbance.  My iTouch watch conked out a few minutes before it's intended wake-up buzz, but let me know with a brief single buzz.  Up, dental care, watch to not very versatile charger via USB computer port, and I'm on my way for TGIF, not that Friday's matter a whole lot when you don't work a M-F schedule.  Some K-cup awakener, plan Friday and Shabbos, sip while checking email and seeing what Bari Weiss' Common Sense post can do to unsuccessfully generate my outrage.  Finish the audio Parsha commentary that I do each week, which often comes rather late Thursdays on yutorah.org.  And it's a treadmill recovery day.

Not really feeling like a dynamo of activity.  Not feeling groovy at all.  While finishing the milchig dishes, I boiled water, added some overly ground Lavazza coffee to my smallest French press, steeped it for four minutes timed with an electronic countdown timer, and pressed.  Add some left over heavy cream from when I made whipped cream, spritz of Pumpkin Pie Spice, then pour the coffee.  Tastes good.  Know in about an hour if it changes me in a favorable way.

Clogged Coffee Maker

My Keurig machine has gotten more temperamental.  I gave it an acid wash, confirmed full flow, then did two standard K-cups without incident.  But when I put more finely ground Lavazza good coffee into the plastic generic k-cup, it clogged again.  Only half the cup filled. with a puddle of coffee around the orange plastic cup when I removed it.  Most likely one of the pins malfunctioned with the finer grind.  I've cleaned them before with safety pins, much easier to do with the lower removable part than the sharp source that penetrates the K-cup from above.  I assume the problem is the lower holllow needle, as the upper pin never pierces the plastic cup, though it is still the source of its inflow and could clog as particles of coffee grounds float around it.  The lower pin receives the coffee water slurry and is more likely to clog if the size of the coffee particle is smaller than the pore that allows the water into the needle.  Give it another go at cleaning.  Lavazza now limited to Mellita cone.

Grocery Orgy

We needed stuff.  I had run out of dental plackers, one of my beneficial start the day new habits that I was able to introduce.  We had no seltzer, that fizzy substitute for the evil soda. Ice cream had run out.  Our freezer still had some room for more, as many of the past week's meals began with defrosting.  To make a leisurely though mostly purposeful stroll through Shop-Rite even more attractive, the weekly ad that comes in the mail every Thursday announced discounts on things that add versatility to meal planning or brighten my time in the kitchen.  Apples and sour cream on sale at the same time generates Fish Market Apple Walnut Pie.  Some things I avoided, those potato chips on sale though corn chips pass.  As much as I wanted Vienna Fingers for $1.88 a package, it remains on the Don't Get Obese limitations.  In exchange, there is pasta and frozen phony meat facsimiles that make meal preparation simple and filling.  I always need coffee when it goes on sale, even when I don't.  Can never have too much Lavazza at $3.99 a package.  Half price, always good, lasts indefinitely, though ground too fine for my Mr. Coffee K-cup machine's plastic strainer insert.  House brand K-cups, coffee ordinaire, but staples.  Two boxes when significantly discounted.   Some things you need to buy a lot of to get the computerized cash register to deduct the savings.  Don't know where I would store ten large cans of tomatoes.  I can use three jars of pasta sauce eventually.  One for lasagna.  Cottage cheese and frozen spinach not discounted this week but the pasta sauce will keep until they are.  Halfway healthy snacks:  whole grain fruit bars certified Kosher, pretzels which are maybe a tad better than potato chips, yogurts that had been victim to supply chain limitations on availability, the cereal that I like munchable from the box.

While the basket and reusable grocery bags looked rather stuffed by the time I scanned them through the self-cashier, some things I did not get.  Salad greens advertised were not available on the shelves.  Better to get these at Trader Joe's, which is also my source for bread and cheese.  Kosher meat has gotten prohibitively expensive.  Usually a few packages have clearance discounts, though more common later in the week.  I needed mini-challot, again none on shelves early in the week.  I don't even look at the Kosher deli or bakery anymore as prices exceed what I am willing to pay, even discounted.  They had no whipping cream, the perfect addition to the blueberries I got on sale and perhaps to the Apple Walnut Pie.  Self-care items from deodorant to home remedies have inflated in price.  Don't need a lot of these, but their manufacturers and retailers know that they are price inelastic for people at the time of need.

This past week I watched a six part summary of  the food industry on Curiosity Stream.  Consumers want, suppliers both create want and satisfy want.  And a vast maze of supply chains have made the things we want global and for the most part affordable.  At my shopper perspective, I still have ample choice, have given up very little on account of price, and what falls through the supply chain snafus, as yogurt did recently, eventually gets its turn with shipping containers, railroads, and trucks.  I bought enough to eat well this week and beyond.  The preparation options bring me some joy as I combine ingredients to make items where great taste comes forth.  And for all practical purposes, if I go out for coffee, it is for the social or escape elements, not for the beverage. 

Almost out of K-cups

Last one on carousel.  Few more in a box elsewhere in the kitchen that I forgot about.  These have become morning staples, though not entirely indispensable.  I have ample ground coffee with two functioning inserts that fit my Mr. Coffee on sale machine.  There are two French presses, two Melitta cones with a reasonable supply of #2 filters, and enough cash on hand for a pick-up at WaWa or a leisurely sip at Brew HaHa.  Not having morning coffee was never jeopardized.  Having my morning routine of washing dishes and retrieving the newspaper while a k-cup brews could have collapsed.

It didn't.  Restoring the new supply made it to my daily task list as a priority.  Everyplace sells them but the best match of price and quantity comes from Christmas Tree Shops and Costco.  While the latter sells more established brands, including their own, and I much appreciate the large sturdy box once depleted, Christmas Tree Shops had the advantage of proximity and variety, so I went there.  While my cell phone calculator would enable me to figure out the best buy with certainty, I opted for the ability to estimate learned in junior high math, along with the reassurance that my level of prosperity does not mandate the rock bottom per-unit price.  I could also consider what experience I might like to have with the next 60-100 morning mugs.  All discounted brands not widely advertised.  Consumer choice depends on price but also on taste, prior experience, variety, size, attractiveness of the box and many other investments that sophisticated manufacturers make to allure me to their product ahead of other products.  I like variety packs, but settled instead for 60 units of basic ground coffee that they labelled donut shop blend, more image than reality.  Good price.  Had before.  Reliable.  Won't run out again for a while.

After putting the box in my cart, I headed to the back of the store to look for more of a dental item.  I didn't find it but found the box of Christmas Clearance k-cups in boxes of 18.  Wide selection, a third off, some flavored, some not, all specialty offerings but what I assume are upstart suppliers.  Got one of those too.  Made myself a cup of that as soon as I returned home.

I don't know how close I come to the model of consumer behavior.  Stimulus was need, though once I arrived at the choices it shifted to want.  Display, packaging, perceived taste, experience, value, and anticipation of making the coffee all became inputs into the decision-making apparatus of my CNS.  When the choice are too many, true at Christmas Tree Shops but not at Costco, there is a risk of dissatisfaction with any final selection.  But having returned home, restored the revolving k-cup rack next to the coffee brewer, and place the remaining k-cups in a safe place, my usual mornings can continue another few months.