It’s 11:30 AM. I’ve been at my desk since 9. At least in theory. I’ve been hard at work. Again, in theory. In
reality, I haven’t done much besides checking my e-mail repeatedly, and the weather in Westport, Montauk, and other spots of critical interest, like Santa Monica, CA, and Grinnell, Iowa.
Time to take Ricky for a walk. Thank goodness! As most of you already know, by “a walk” I mean a drive to a walk. (A “destination walk,” as I call it.) And over the last few months, I’ve tacked on another key feature to our daily ritual: a cup of coffee. If our destination is Compo Beach, my coffee stop will be Elvira’s. If our destination is Winslow Park, I’ll grab my fix at Starbucks. If we’re heading to Southport Harbor, then it’s Dunkin’ Donuts drive-thru. So now picture this: Leash in my left hand, cup of joe in my right. Strolling leisurely with my little best friend, inhaling the
irresistable aroma of caffeine, gazing out at the sailboats — “Nomad,” “Beguine,” “Tabasco.” The small matter of what to do with Ricky’s “business” aside — poop bag in left hand? Switch leash to right? What about coffee cup? — a very, very nice moment. (Please don’t tell Carol or anyone else in my family how much I look forward to this interlude. I constantly try to sell the concept that walking Ricky is an onerous daily burden and a huge intrusion in my working day.)
Now, as I’ve said before, whereas your average person might get a little wired from a cup of coffee, I — perhaps because caffeine is still new to me — become ridiculously garrulous, almost frighteningly manic, and positively euphoric. (You can read about me and “my habit” in The Home Team, my column in the Westport News.) All of a sudden, any errand or activity on the horizon seems like the most dazzling adventure in the world. A look ahead to the rest of the day, the rest of the week — nothing buy rosy. All my ideas become staggering strokes of genius. If I’ve had the
foresight to bring along my mini-recorder, I can return to my desk with my next four columns perfectly composed, my next three blog posts immaculately laid out. And when I sit back down to work, no more wasting time on e-mail. No more idle weather-checking. Just a wild run of galloping creativity.
With the weather heating up, my caffeine guru (my son Greg) has suggested it’s probably time to switch over to iced coffee for the summer. Today I’m giving it a try. If it works, great. If it doesn’t, then it’s sayonara cold stuff, hello again Grande Blonde Roast. Can’t risk messing with the brilliance.
A WORD FROM RICKY: “STARTING THIS MONDAY, LOOK FOR MY PALS — A STORY AND PHOTO OF SOME OF MY, UH . . . PALS. 🙂 HAVE A DOG LIKE ME — WITH A MIND OF HIS OWN? TELL ME ALL ABOUT IT. MAYBE YOUR PUP WILL TURN UP IN “MY PALS” (MONDAYS). SEND YOUR STORY AND PHOTO TO BEAGLE MAN . HE HANDLES MY E-MAIL FOR ME. )
Leave a Reply