Smeagol is Free!
A hermitudinal view of...stuff...



I find it incredibly disheartening that Sweet Maria's is out of that delicious Kianderi Peaberry from Kenya. Gary's best friend in high school is also Kavin's favorite thing to eat. I stuck the unwashed spoon I used for my oatmeal into Ben's bowl of granola and milk...which means that I've finally learned to share. Someone needs to go up to Szrama and ask him if they can take away his tray for him. Strangely enough, this cup makes me think of bitter herbs...but not bitter coffee. The guy who represents The Average Pastor has joined the blogosphere. Speaking of the blogosphere, I think it's way flippin' cool that if you type in my name into the address bar of a Firefox web browser, you're taken here, not just to a Google search of my name. Way flippin' cool. The same can be said of the phrase, "Smeagol is free!"

posted by Bolo | 4:03 PM
4 speakage


posted by Bolo | 7:50 AM
0 speakage


News Blurb

WhiteBrownGray One: Found it!

posted by Bolo | 11:58 PM
0 speakage


Questions I'm pondering today: What makes me feel joy? What makes me feel sorrow? More importantly, why?

posted by Bolo | 8:02 AM
0 speakage


Coffee Culture

posted by Bolo | 11:05 PM
0 speakage


Is it wrong that I now think of words and names in terms of how many points they'd garner in Scrabble? Stories you can read to your kids? You provide the kids, I'll provide the stories. We're glad that it's coffee grounds being found in the plumbing, and not the other possibilities. It was quite nice to wake up this morning and not have to cough up a ball of phlegm the size of a golf ball. Good call on The Trumpet Child, Ash. Good grief, that Yirg from yesterday was delicious. Ok, Spring Street residents, you're right, I'm far too rare as of late. One must laugh aloud at Kristen Marra's guess as to who the anonymous text messager was: "John freakin' Letoto?" There can be nothing cuter than Makana looking at her 2007 Shirt and proclaiming, "Go Irish!" Nope, nothing at all...unless she's counting to five. Surf. Need. Surf.

posted by Bolo | 4:11 PM
2 speakage



I've been somewhat of a recluse as of late, and my blog shows it. Don't worry, I haven't disappeared, but I have been sick, and I have been pensive. What does that mean for my presence on the Web? Simply this: more to come shortly, much more.

But first, the rest of a sermon, and then a little coffee roasting.

posted by Bolo | 10:12 PM
0 speakage


Ills & Chills

When I was younger, being sick was actually kind of fun. It gave me an excuse to stay home from school, to get out of doing the things I didn't want to do. These days, being sick doesn't necessarily mean I stay home from work, and even if it does, staying home from work stinks. What's more, being sick means that I take care of me, instead of someone else taking care of me.

Hmmm...this growing-up thing isn't all it's coughed up to be.

posted by Bolo | 9:27 PM
2 speakage



posted by Bolo | 9:28 AM
0 speakage


Coffe & Tea

Sick? Yes. Proof? Well, other than the brown/yellow/green stuff coming out of my orifices, I noticed that my tea consumption has gone up and coffee consumption has gone down.

Sad times.

posted by Bolo | 11:59 PM
0 speakage


Officious Operations

Just be glad, really really glad, that Andy isn't a pilot in real life. As if that needed confirmation ;)

posted by Bolo | 8:10 AM
0 speakage


Vexed Con

I like this...but I'm not entirely sure why.

posted by Bolo | 11:59 PM
0 speakage

Beloved Beverage Banter

I'm not convinced it's worth $20,000, but I am convinced of one thing: if I ever find myself in the Bay Area, I'm going to go to Sweet Maria's and I'm going to go to Blue Bottle. End of story.

Or maybe just the beginning...

posted by Bolo | 11:22 AM
0 speakage



After work, I often head toward the place where I like to put my feet up, lay my head down, and press myself a cup of coffee from some beans I've recently roasted: Sunergos. I find no end to the irony that the guys in there now ask me what sort of beans I've got to brew up. Not every brew is perfect, and not every cup is everyone's cup of tea, so to speak. Still, it's great to realize that coffee is all about what's in the cup, what we're getting out of that cup, and what it took to get it there in the first place.

posted by Bolo | 8:25 PM
0 speakage



posted by Bolo | 4:11 PM
0 speakage



posted by Bolo | 11:54 PM
0 speakage


I'm going to have to make people sign a disclaimer thingy when we play Scrabble from now on. The highest praise as a home-roaster in this city comes when the guys at Sunergos say, "Oh, that's outstanding!" One word, Cimato, just one word...and it's killing you, isn't it? Four times at Outback, and still free. Ben Sollee? Amazing. Like Makana says, it's not Uncle John, it's Uncle Johnny. If I ever get the chance, I want to be someone's herald...think Chaucer in A Knight's Tale. A thought: if and when the time ever comes, leaving IBC would be very, very, very hard, but for all the right reasons. Greatest line in all of Tolkien lore? "But Beren laughed." The most important question, Mr. Brown White and Gray? Hmmm...ponderous...

posted by Bolo | 3:05 AM
0 speakage



Be Thou my Vision, O Lord of my heart;
Naught be all else to me, save that Thou art.
Thou my best Thought, by day or by night,
Waking or sleeping, Thy presence my light.

Be Thou my Wisdom, and Thou my true Word;
I ever with Thee and Thou with me, Lord;
Thou my great Father, I Thy true son;
Thou in me dwelling, and I with Thee one.

Be Thou my battle Shield, Sword for the fight;
Be Thou my Dignity, Thou my Delight;
Thou my soul’s Shelter, Thou my high Tower:
Raise Thou me heavenward, O Power of my power.

Riches I heed not, nor man’s empty praise,
Thou mine Inheritance, now and always:
Thou and Thou only, first in my heart,
High King of Heaven, my Treasure Thou art.

High King of Heaven, my victory won,
May I reach Heaven’s joys, O bright Heaven’s Sun!
Heart of my own heart, whatever befall,
Still be my Vision, O Ruler of all.

In light of today's sermon, last night's conversation with Scott, and the conviction that comes from experiencing the truth of God's Word being eeked out in real life, this old Irish hymn seems quite an appropriate set of verses to meditate upon.

posted by Bolo | 10:29 PM
0 speakage


For those Scrabble players who desire a definition, I give you a definition, and I do so IMNSHO, rather than IMHO.

Main Entry: ken
Pronunciation: \ˈken\
Function: verb
Inflected Form(s): kenned; ken·ning
Middle English kennen, from Old English cennan to make known & Old Norse kenna to perceive; both akin to Old English can know — more at can
Date: 13th century

transitive verb
1 archaic : see
2 chiefly dialect : recognize
3 chiefly Scottish : know
intransitive verb
chiefly Scottish : know

posted by Bolo | 9:34 PM
0 speakage


On Campus

posted by Bolo | 5:35 PM
0 speakage



The only thing worse than a deeply-buried zit on a painful place (such as your neck, right under the jawline) is a zit in a painful place (such as your neck, right under the jawline) that used to be deeply buried but got kind of ripped open.


posted by Bolo | 9:01 AM
0 speakage



I had a cup of Guatemala Finca San José Ocaña...and I enjoyed it. Talk about palate expansion. Petey said my interactions with Stephen remind him of the interactions Donkey has with Shrek. I won't bother to say who Petey thought was Donkey and who was Shrek. Used Zassenhaus mill? Maybe. It's one thing to understand the love of God for sinners; it's another thing to believe in it in a general applicatory sense; still another to believe in it and apply and allow it to be applied to one's own sinful heart. My niece is now on Facebook, and is the first person to speak truly in refering to me as "uncle" on there...she's also the first person I know of on Facebook whose diaper I once changed. Speaking of things I once did, I seriously do remember seeing that ad for Chuck Norris Action Jeans when the ad first came out. I may have gotten to the point where my desire to roast coffee has actually exceeded my desire to drink the result of the roasting...believe me, that's still a strong desire. Napping for two or three hours after work is wonderful, absolutely wonderful. *Sigh* may be time for a rebuild/reformat on this box...Saturday project, I'm guessing.

posted by Bolo | 11:13 PM
0 speakage


"You've been watching too many Presidential debates." That's what Peter said when I adroitly avoided his question about my flatulence by purposely going on a rabbit trail about elephants and kangaroos and dinosaurs. For the record, I did tell him I was offended by the assertion :)

posted by Bolo | 9:07 AM
0 speakage



posted by Bolo | 11:30 PM
0 speakage

Cup of the Morning

Mystery blend...or, as Ben dubbed it, the Boogie Man Blend, 'cause we don't know what's in it, and it gives him the willies. Yeesh.

posted by Bolo | 9:10 AM
0 speakage


The Wall

Several years ago, on a cloudy, long-sleeve t-shirt sort of afternoon, I was sitting on the wall at Kewalo's. For some inexplicable reason, with as many mornings, afternoons, and evenings as I've spent there, this one sticks out.

I was sick that day and couldn't surf, which was why I found myself relegated to mere wall duty. Normally, this would have been considered a sadistic sort of surf-self-torture; in fact, I think it started out as just that. In ones, twos, and threes, I saw boards of every shape and size carried down the Steps and into the water. Sometimes stretching would precede the entry, sometimes a bit of last-minute waxing, but no matter what, every surfer had at least one ritual in common: they all stopped at the wall, stood tall, and gazed out at the surf.

It's what we do. We stand there, shield our eyes from the sun with one hand, and if we have other surfers with us, we'll point out what we see in the break with our other hand. Sometimes, if we're alone, we forget and point anyway. Smiles play on our dark faces; eyes will squint and lips will "O" at the sight of a particularly glassy face and thick lip; thoughts and worries are driven from minds that know they will soon be enveloped by the ocean.

Only on that day, there would be no enveloping for me. Instead, as a steady stream of water-bound board-bearers passed me by, I took in the view before me: waves and surfers perling over in a graceful, violent dance; blues of periwinkle, steel, cornflower, denim, azure, baby, cobalt, and sapphire in a sky of blues; an ocean, seemingly endless and wonderful beyond comprehension.

I look back on that day, and many others like it, and realize with great irony that as close as I was to the water, there was no way I would be able to get in. Even then, I was able to appreciate what I was missing out on. It helps me to appreciate it now.

posted by Bolo | 1:01 AM
2 speakage


Cup of the Morning

I lost, so I had to make the press. Still, the stuff in the morning mug makes it worth it.

posted by Bolo | 9:45 AM
0 speakage


The 'Do

He had a perm?

posted by Bolo | 10:03 PM
0 speakage

Five Years

It's amazing how time flies. Two years ago, I wrote this. Two years later, I sit here in my room, wondering at how much has happened in even those two years since. I was a far different person than when I first left; I'm a far different person even from that guy that sat in Sunergos two years back. In some ways, I'm see less; in others, I see more. Maybe it's just that I've become better at seeing that I don't see. Heh...five years sure as heck can seem like a long time to learn that.

posted by Bolo | 1:56 AM
0 speakage

All Scrabbled Up

In case you weren't one of the eight or so people who got my text message, David Butterworth learned why playing Scrabble in person is different than playing it the tune of 518 to 238.

posted by Bolo | 1:48 AM
2 speakage



It's been at least several months since we last conversed, but no phone conversation between us would be complete without Andrew's phone going dead right in the middle of it. Some things never change :)

posted by Bolo | 5:48 PM
0 speakage

Cup of the Morning

Mmm...Sumatra Blue Batak Tarbarita Peaberry...delicious! Check it out.

posted by Bolo | 11:12 AM
0 speakage


The Last of the 20's

The Sipester had her birthday shindig at none other than Panera Bread. For a while, a long, long while, I was the only...well...never mind. I was there long enough to see Patti Withers throw punches, try to convince Herman and Connie that I should help them order by acting like they were hard of hearing, exchange pleasantries with Mr. O'Neal's Best Friend, and listen to Mr. Farris explain why he had a perm. Good times.

posted by Bolo | 10:30 PM
0 speakage


On Thursday Stephen said, "Rain feels like Friday." I'm inclined to agree. Darth Tater has come over to the dark side of the office; he is mine! Jesus''s very hard to grasp, yet essential to be gripped by. I'm slowly making a coffee nut out of Eric, and the pit-stop into the office before our OVVC match only helped that process along. Speaking of nuts, Peter ate almost all of what was left in the canister. Free lunch on the boss is always a nice little workplace bonus. I told Stephen that I didn't feel the least bit threatened by his threat to staple my head with a stapler because I figured that he had about a ten percent chance of actually hitting any part of my body, much less my head. Half an hour later, he threw something at me from a yard away...and missed. There's something wonderful and amusing about the bangers at The Rover.

posted by Bolo | 3:00 PM
0 speakage


Jay Pegs

posted by Bolo | 11:49 PM
0 speakage
Free Hit
Dell Coupons
Blogging Buddies
Old School
Bug Me