Some new information

I still can't believe this happened.  I swore to myself during my youth and early adulthood and now full-grown adultness that I wouldn't submit to it.  That it stunts my growth or something.  But now, nearly every morning, the dark call is irresistable and beautiful.

Coffee is amazing.

Years ago, the taste of the stuff was repellent and I thought it absurd that there was such a thing as coffee-flavored ice cream.  Who would allow such nonsense?  But, roughly a year and a half ago when my second boy was introduced to the world, I was damn tired.  Not the mind-warping, bone-aching exhaustion that my wife slogged through, but still.  I was sleepy.  One afternoon, I stumbled through the market for some random, but now somehow necessary item that we needed to maintain our sanity, and fell victim to the Red Bull display.  Caffeine sounded wonderful.

I did that a few more times, but started hearing the whispers from the one appliance in the kitchen that was still a complete mystery to me:

It: "Hey.  Try some."
Me: I curse at it.
The next morning it continued.
It:  "Really.  Get over yourself."
Me:  No reply.  I ate my cereal and turned the volume up to hear the oh-so-clever banter on SportsCenter. 
It:  "I can warm you up the morning.  Try it with some cream."
Me:  I looked over my shoulder at it.
It:  "Only crazy people drink it black.  And only pansies need sugar.  You need some.  You look sleepy."

That weekend, I learned my wife was in league with the thing when she asked me if I wanted some.  I was hopelessly outnumbered and had little choice but to yield.

And I'm so happy.

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An incredible local news story (as reported by CBS4 in Denver):

1.) A woman stops her car along a county road because she thinks she has a flat tire.
2.) As she checks the tire, she is knocked flat by something.
3.) She turns over and sees a mountain lion behind her, pacing.
4.) The thing moves towards her.
5.) The woman does nothing.  Just waits.
6.) The lion gets closer.
7.) And she kicks it in the head.
8.) Lion screams and runs away.

Holy crap.

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I love The Twilight Zone.  The original series, of course.  The expense of the complete collection on DVD always seemed too great to justify owning it, so I learned to live without.  Occasionally I was rescued when the Sci-Fi Network (now called SyFy for some ridiculous reason) would air a marathon.  I'd call my father and let him know, drag my wife in to watch, and everything would be swell.

Last weekend in a mad craving, I learned that the Great and Glorious Internet had somehow felt my despair.  A service of our cable provider has some forty episodes, spanning three seasons, all available on-line.  We watched several episodes, the classic "A Stop at Willoughby" among them.

And, if memory serves, I watched them with a hot cup of coffee at the ready.  Thank you, magical Internet.  Thank you.