shottage, etc.

May 27, 2005 – 12:59 am
and it occured to me — when one is shopping alone, with a toddling dude in a buggy, one should unload one’s rustling gaggle of warm-tobacco-spittle-colored grocery bags first. see, i had been doing it all wrong — the human boy comes first, and all that … besides, if he’s securely lashed to the half-ton chunk of injection-molded safety plastic that we genteel-ly call a “car seat,” then he is infitessimally less likely to topple from the shopping cart while i’m unloading. right? the cart’s safety belt = a volkswagen thing equipped with a rope. the Graco Safety Chunk, meanwhile, = vise-like security tested to 9.2 on the richter scale.

but no. tie the boy in first, and you’re left dashing madly to the cart corral and back for fear those DSS officers dressed as pimply publix baggers are on the lookout for just such a fudging father. i’d been hurriedly teaching my 18-month-old to say, “my daddee is closer than you think.” somewhere between the half-gallon of half&half and the prize chunk of gruyere, it occured to me: onload the groceries first, and then take take the dude to the cart corral. stroll back hand-in-hand. sing nonchalantly about overzealous government agents. wink knowingly at the bagger. rinse. repeat.

yes, the riviera parts arrived. i beheld the cigar-sized length of double-spouted brass portafilter wonder and i swear the drool wrapped around my neck. a single strand of it. the new gaskets fit perfectly and solved all leaks, the old ones crumbled from their calcified perches obligingly, and the brew water flushed as clear as the cypriot’s teeth are white. a buddy was there, lured from his evening of textual pursuits for a spectator’s glimpse of italian-crafted burping espresso action. ground a basket full, locked and loaded, pulled the lever with a flourish, and…

the camera quit. “feh,” it said, and just started being juvenile and retromingent.

they weren’t much, but they were photos, or rather moving frames waiting to be culled for bloggy visual consummation. *sigh* camera won’t even read the ones i DID take. thus, tonight’s written dreck. it’s about as thin and transparent as my first shot, i know. BUT they got better! first shot was ridiculously bitter (partly because i had dully assumed the stuff would drip forth while the lever was in the down position). nope. the velocity of the pressurized grouphead water notwithstanding, it took the downward motion of the grouphead piston to force the water through. result: poo. second shot was sour, third was passable as bone soup.

the fourth, however, held forth with verve and body, as they say about my hair at the stone plaza barber shop. the fifth featured a crema with heft, and a taste to rival a stale blend. good! we’re getting there! more reflections in the next post.

this one has grown grey and strewn with overly aerated paragraph breaks. and here is its dribbling, overexposed finish.