the Baristas know my name

(and WordPress eats another post…..)

My environment is worlds better than living on Bagram Airbase. No matter what aspect I look at: my bed is more comfortable (and not a sleeping bag); I have much better food (Miriam has been cooking dinner); the company is sooo much better (and all related to me); there is a cat.

But the sameness is there…the same things at same time. The circumscribed route which is pretty much inside the house. Bedroom, kitchen, dining room, living room. And around. 

And going outside the wire? Excuse me, leaving the house. That is fraught with decision making and risk assessment. Where am I going? Why am I going? What route? When will I be back? Should I maximize my route for safety, efficiency, or people avoidance? Priorities…

All of this came up because Miriam needed to “go to work” which apparently has the designated location of her older sister’s second bedroom. Which is in Richmond. (California, not Virginia). Planning takes the route past the local Peet’s so that she can bribe her sister with a latte while drinking her own chai latte. 

All of this leads me to not having my own coffee. So I stop on the way back. And the guy at the door looks at me and say – Holly, your order will be up in a minute. 

And I hadn’t even had a chance to say hello….

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About Holly

fiber person - knitter, spinner, weaver who spent 33 years being a military officer to fund the above. And home. And family. Sewing and quilting projects are also in the stash. After living again in Heidelberg after retiring (finally) from the U.S. Army May 2011, we moved to the US ~ Dec 2015. Something about being over 65 and access to health care. It also might have had to do with finding a buyer for our house. Allegedly this will provide me a home base in the same country as our four adult children, all of whom I adore, so that I can drive them totally insane. Considerations of time to knit down the stash…(right, and if you believe that…) and spin and .... There is now actually enough time to do a bit of consulting, editing. Even more amazing - we have only one household again. As long as everyone understands that I still, 40 years into our marriage, don't do kitchens or bathrooms. For that matter, not being a golden retriever, I don't do slippers or newspapers either. I don’t miss either the military or full-time clinical practice. Limiting my public health/travel med/consulting and lecturing to “when I feel like it” has let me happily spend my pension cruising, stash enhancing (oops), arguing with the DH about where we are going to travel next and book buying. Life is good!
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4 Responses to the Baristas know my name

  1. Ron says:

    Maybe the paranoid have a slightly higher survival chance than the cautious, but they don’t get a Peet’s coffee, which again is something special and not just routine.

    Hang in there, this too shall pass.

  2. Mary Hunt says:

    When my husband was in grad school, we went to a Chinese restaurant and had their special, which was the cheapest thing on the menu, same thing every time. When we brought in our daughter shortly after her birth, they had a baby of their own about the same age. So we exchanged babies for a while, cooing and loving both of them. That time we asked for the deluxe special, and they were so used to us we received our regular meal. Which was fine, but a bit startling.

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