Coffee and Koans

This week happy workers are tearing apart our kitchen -- and hopefully putting it back together -- to give us a smart new remodel: more counter space, more storage space, spiffy orange tile, and eco-friendly lineoleum-like flooring.

Thus it's been some few days since Rhumba and I have cooked at home, and we're getting tired of restaurant food, even good restaurant food. Never thought I'd say that.

And so we were at breakfast out today, 7:15 in the morning, and our usual waitress came to the table. She's young, college-educated, and mild-mannered, with a high, breathy voice that you can barely hear over the sound of clattering dishes and conversation.

She's not always a morning person. I know, because she almost missed my coffee cup on the first pour some time back. It was six in the morning and her eyeballs were a lovely shade of pink. No problem, we've all been there.

And today she appeared with coffee, looking a little glazed in the eyes to my mind. So I took the liberty of asking "Are you awake yet?"

"I'm awake," she said. She looked at me with no expression whatsoever. "I'm always awake." She paused for a moment. "Although sometimes I wonder if any of us are really awake."

Did I just meet the Buddha -- with a pot of coffee in her hand?