When people start giving you stuff like this, grandparenthood suddenly gets real

Last month I was in the grocery store and ran into Jenny, a high school classmate and track teammate of mine. We were chatting and updating each other on our lives (as one does while standing in the produce section) when I mentioned that Chloe was due with our first grandchild in mid-September.

Jenny, a grandmother herself, lit up.

"Oh," she said, "it's amazing. You have no idea how much you can love a grandchild until they're actually here. You hear about it and agree that of course you'll love that little one, but you don't really understand until you hold them."

I've heard lots of people say things like that, and it makes me even more excited than I already am to become a grandpa.

That word "grandpa", by the way, sounds much older to me than "grandfather" goes. Your grandpa has white hair and walks with a cane. Your grandfather has salt-and-pepper hair and plenty of energy to play with you.

It's all semantics, of course, and as I've said, I really don't care what this little boy calls me. I just can't wait to meet him.

This year for Father's Day, Chloe gave me a bag of Starbucks coffee (she knows me well) and the mug pictured above. When your Father's Day presents become more like Grandfather's Day presents, you know you're entering a new phase in your life.

Well, the grandparent phase, of course, but also the phase when I will only drink out of coffee mugs 10 ounces or larger. I have no time for those useless little 8-ounce teacups...

I'm very proud to welcome my son Jack as the only other member of The 5:30am Club in our house

I've mentioned here more than once that I'm an early riser. Not as early as some people I know, but most days (even weekends) I'm out of bed somewhere between 5:00 and 5:30 in the morning.

This has been especially true since I started going to the gym five days a week. Getting out the door well before the sun rises means having your pick of weight machines, dumbbells and workout spaces.

I have been the first one awake in our house almost every day for the last 25+ years. Even when all five kids lived with us, my feet were consistently first to hit the floor every morning.

Now, however, I have a buddy who joins me in this ritual of early rising. It's my 18-year-old son Jack, who I can count on seeing Monday through Friday right around 5:30am.

The reason is that Jack is working his first full-time job. He is an Animal Husbandry Technician at Cleveland's Case Western Reserve University, and his hours are weekdays 6:30am to 2:30pm.

The semi-fancy title simply means that Jack cleans out cages and does related chores within the university's animal research lab. My brother Mark worked many years at Case as an IT guy, but he also pitched in and did Jack's current job a few times himself when Covid hit in 2020 and the lab folks were scrambling to cover certain roles.

As in any job with an early start time, the advantage is that Jack is home mid-afternoon and has the rest of the day to himself. Another perk (besides making more money than he ever has) is that, if he chooses, he can take classes at Case for free.

This is no small benefit. Case Western Reserve is a very prestigious – and very expensive – university. I was offered a job there in 2013 and came this close to accepting it despite a significant salary cut, simply because it could have meant free college for my kids.

I'm very proud of the way Jack has adjusted his life and his routine to accommodate this new job. He works hard at it, as evidenced by the fact that nearly every day I receive a notification on my Apple Watch that Jack has already closed his movement, exercise and standing "rings."

It's a pretty physically demanding gig.

So, whereas I used to be alone for the first 1-2 hours of each day, now Jack and I meet up early while Terry is (smartly) still sleeping. We talk a bit when he comes downstairs to make his coffee and get his stuff together.

I facilitate the coffee-making by turning on the electric kettle so the water will be boiling by the time Jack comes down. It's the least I can do for my fellow 5:30am Club member.

After all, we're a very exclusive group.

Hold the eggs, toast and sausage, please: Eating the same breakfast every day, year after year

I'm still at a stage in life where chaos is the rule and continuity the exception. The kids may be mostly grown, but there are enough variables in my daily existence to keep things interesting.

One thing that never changes, though – and that's almost a literal "never" – is my breakfast. Every day it's the same thing eaten at the same time and generally with the same utensils.

With very few exceptions, you will find me sitting at the kitchen table between the hours of 7:00 and 7:30am eating these exact foods:

• A 1/2 cup of rolled oats cooked (microwaved, really) in water
• A banana
• A cup of black coffee

The oats are eaten out of the same black plastic bowl designed for the purpose. The banana is usually medium ripe and medium-sized. The coffee is without creamer and drunk from one of only three mugs I have in rotation.

I should mention this is all by choice. No one is forcing any of it on me.

Whatever else the day may have in store, it starts with this never-changing breakfast.

There is a certain comfort in it, to be sure. For one thing, I never get sick of the plain oats, the banana or the coffee. Ever. They're as tasty for me now as they were when I fell into this routine however many years ago (I honestly can't tell you when it started).

There's also very little prep time involved. I mix the oats and water and microwave them for exactly 1 minute. The banana is quickly plucked from the fruit stash on our kitchen counter. And the coffee comes out of the Cuisinart machine Terry bought me for Christmas that I just love.

All told, from the moment I start making breakfast to the moment I start eating it is less than 3 minutes.

This comes in especially handy on days I have to go into the office or get myself to some other morning commitment.

Lunch and dinner will vary, but breakfast? It's my most important meal of the day not for its nutritional value, but for its reliability.

You will understand, then, how in some ways I have been a 76-year-old man for most of my life.

I didn't think I was addicted to coffee until I realized I was addicted to coffee

I may be taking the word "addiction" too lightly here, in which case I apologize to those suffering or recovering from addictions to truly harmful substances.

It's just that I've only recently come to recognize how much I rely on my morning cup of coffee (not to mention my mid-morning, late-morning and early-afternoon cups of coffee...and sometimes, when it's that kind of day, my mid-afternoon cup of coffee).

If "addiction" isn't the right word, I would say "dependence" is.

When I walk into the office each day, the first thing I do is ensure that my early-arriving co-worker Dave has made a pot of coffee. If he hasn't, I drop everything and get the coffee maker going.

When we go on vacation, the detail in which I take keenest interest is how – and how often – we can get coffee.

My last few jobs, while I didn't ask about it during the interview process, I was always quick to check with a new co-worker on the office coffee situation.

I can get through a day without coffee, but it's not very fun. All day there's a gnawing craving for just one cup of the sweet brown bean liquid. Just one.

I wonder whether it's the coffee I crave or the caffeine that powers it. On days I don't meet my normal coffee quota, I don't feel especially tired. I just get antsy, to the point that I wonder whether caffeine is more of a relaxant for me than a stimulant.

In any event, I don't like being this reliant on any substance. Until I turned 40 years old, I could take or leave coffee. After that point, it was like a switch flipped and it became an indispensable part of my daily diet.

This all worries me so much you won't be surprised to hear I'm headed to the kitchen for a cup of joe. You know, just to calm myself down.

The Starbucks mobile ordering system does what it says it will do, and I think that's admirable

Every two weeks I visit my sister Deb's salon for a haircut and conversation.

I really don't need the haircut every two weeks, but I do look forward to the conversation, so the haircut is just an excuse.

I'm there every other Saturday morning, and invariably once she finishes shaping up what hair is left on my head, I walk over to the nearby Starbucks to grab a coffee.

Before I walk over, I fire up the Starbucks app on my phone and place my order online: Small blonde roast with a splash of heavy cream.

And it's there waiting for me every time. Every time, without fail. And not that it's a complicated order or anything, but they get also get the coffee/cream ratio right every time.

Now, before I talk about how impressive that system is to me, I realize you may have your own opinions about Starbucks, whether it's the quality of their coffee, the price of said coffee, or their corporate politics. And to that I would say:

• QUALITY: You may be right, but I have no standards when it comes to coffee, so I'll drink almost anything.
• PRICE: You are undoubtedly right there. Even if you're paying for "ambience" and "experience," it's still too much. Yet I continue to make regular purchases there because, well, because I don't really care.
• POLITICS: Speaking of don't care, it would be difficult for me to care less about what Starbucks advocates for when it comes to social and political issues. I'm just there for the coffee.

Now, you could argue that we should expect brands to deliver on their promises to us, and that when they do so it is no more than the price of gaining you and me as customers. And you're right.

Still, having spent part of my career in consumer goods, I can tell you that marketing and distribution for most products is way, way more complex than you think it is. And any company that, on a mass scale, can promise you a positive experience and consistently come through is to be commended.

Because many don't, you know. And here I'm thinking of cable companies. God bless them they try, but the number of technical issues they experience and customer complaints they absorb suggests to me that most operate their networks on essentially a wing and a prayer. They promise a positive experience and deliver it a shockingly low percentage of the time.

But not my friends at Starbucks. They make it easy to use their app, easy to place my order, and easy to pick it up. Maybe I shouldn't be blown away by this, but I am.

I tried (and failed) to make the transition to black coffee

I have been a regular coffee drinker for only about a decade. This surprises some people, who assume that those who work in newspaper newsrooms (as I did in the 80s and 90s) are caffeine addicts from their very early 20s.

For whatever reason, the coffee switch didn't flip for Terry and me until we turned 40. Prior to that, neither of us drank coffee or wine. But from then on, we became fans of both...she likes wine more than me, but the fact is that I'll drink it now, which wasn't the case when I was a young adult.

From the very first days when I developed my coffee habit, I have always drunk it with cream. More specifically, plain half and half. No flavoring or anything, just good old, solid-white, milkfat-laden half and half.

This routine has worked for years, though it has its drawbacks:

• It involves taking a small container of half and half to my Goodyear office every day, since the company does not currently offer complimentary creamer to associates.
• It doesn't always work when purchasing coffee from, say, gas stations, many of which only provide that nasty powdered creamer, the existence of which I don't even acknowledge.
• Over the course of a day in which I drink 4-5 cups of coffee, the calories and saturated fat in half and half add up.

That third point is crucial. As a Weight Watchers lifetimer, I have to count one point for every cup of coffee in which I pour my half and half (which is to say, every cup of coffee I drink). Black coffee is zero points.

It doesn't seem like much, but those 4-5 points are valuable. If I could find a way to eliminate them from my daily food budget, it would make room for an additional healthy snack or two in my lunchbox.

So I tried. One day a couple of weeks ago, I went cold turkey on half and half. I started drinking all of my coffee black.

And when I say "all of my coffee," I mean exactly one cup of it.

During my drive to work that morning, Terry texted me promising to buy a container of half and half that day, as we had run out of it.

"Actually, don't bother," I responded to her once I got into the office. "I'm going to experiment with black coffee."

Two hours later, I texted her the following: "Screw this. Get me the half and half!"

I just don't like the taste of black coffee. I want to. It smells great. But when it comes to actually drinking it, I have to add the creamer.

Let it be known, though, that for those two hours, I was a brave soldier. I jumped right into the world of black coffee, and then I jumped right back out again.

And honestly, my life is better for it.

I would like more coffee mugs, but I don't have any place to put them

When I started drinking coffee 10 years ago, there were certain things about the habit of which I was unaware.

Like the variances in coffee quality, depending on where you get it. I have pretty low standards, but even I can tell the difference among French press, restaurant, and weak Mr. Coffee brews.

Or the fact that powdered creamer is nasty and should be illegal. I could not have known that until I tried it.

There is also this: I like having a large collection of coffee mugs. I have three at home that I guess are "mine," though we have so many total mugs in our house that the hooks behind the kitchen sink are all occupied and the cupboards probably can't hold any more.

I also have three mugs at work, though one is my everyday go-to (pictured above), while the Donkey Kong and Cleveland State University School of Communications mugs are there more for display and to serve as back-ups than anything else.

So, as gifts go, I suppose coffee mugs are a lot like ties: I can always find a use for them, but I'm running out of places to put them.

Should you be looking for something to give me, I still say you can't go wrong with cash. Or a Starbucks gift card. Unlike coffee mugs, both are easily stored.

The fine (and possibly lost) art of hospitality

I mentioned yesterday how we recently drove to Orlando to drop off my daughter for a 5½-month stint as a Disney College Program participant (I’m typing this post about two weeks before you read it while still enjoying the Florida sunshine).

I’m a fairly veteran traveler and can generally adapt to just about anything, whether it’s an uncomfortable bed, less-than-ideal food, long car or bus rides, or whatever. I just roll with it.

Still, while the whole idea of travel is to have experiences outside of your everyday routine, it’s nice to enjoy some of the comforts of home.

We experienced all of that and more in Orlando, thanks to Terry’s cousin Cindy. Cindy and her husband Steve have always been such kind and gracious hosts when we’ve traveled to Central Florida. And while I feel Cindy goes above and beyond for her guests, it’s the kind of thing any of us can do, really.

Cindy, for example, made sure I had half-and-half for my coffee and plain oats for my breakfast. I would have happily made do with any food she set out, but that was an extra-mile act of kindness that was greatly appreciated.

“Offer hospitality to one another without grumbling” is the instruction we read in the biblical book of Peter. I don’t know if Cindy ever grumbles about it (I highly doubt she does), but she sure checks off the “offer hospitality” part.

Pre-Covid, Cindy used to come to our house and stay for a few days every spring. I hope she returns sometime soon.

I will personally go to the store and get whatever she needs to temporarily recreate her life in beautiful Apopka, Florida.

Except the weather. As hospitable as I would love to be, I can’t do anything about that.

The little things that keep us going every day

 

My youngest son Jack drew this picture, which I have hanging next to my desk at work. I don't know when he drew it, but he's 15 now, so it must have been five years ago or so.

It is one of those little things that make me happy. "Best Dad Ever" is a wonderful sentiment, obviously, but he even personalized it by putting it on a coffee mug.

He knows his caffeine-addicted father well.

I take a moment to look (and smile) at this drawing every day I'm in the office. It makes me think not only of Jack, but of my whole family, who are a continual blessing to me...even when one of them fails to wipe down the counter after making themselves lunch.

There are a lot of big events and milestones that comprise our lives, but I like to think it's the small stuff like this that really sustains us. Or at least it does for me.

If you'll excuse me, this dad has to go get himself a cup of coffee.

I'm not kidding, breakfast is one of the highlights of my day

About five years ago, I took a business trip to Europe. My daughter Elissa, being the adventurous traveler she is, decided to tag along (and paid her own way, to her credit).

That trip took us to some very fun places, including London, Frankfurt, Southern Bavaria, and Barcelona.

The food was all around very good, but we had a special culinary fondness for the two German destinations.

Actually, what we had was a fondness for was German breakfasts. The morning spreads at our hotels were full of delicious, carb-laden treats, fruits, outstanding coffee, and even various meats. We always walked away from breakfast feeling satisfied.

The German word for breakfast is "Frühstück." It's pronounced with that semi-breathy 'r' that comes from the back of the throat, and of course the 's' sound is pronounced as 'sh."

We never bothered saying the 'r' correctly, but the 'sh' part was easy enough, so we always referred to it as "froo-shtuck."

One evening when we were in our room, Elissa sighed and said, "I wish it was froo-shtuck now." And I did, too. That's how much we looked forward to those breakfasts.

Breakfast remains my favorite meal by a wide margin. And as I have recounted here before, I eat the same thing every day, virtually without exception: A cup of cooked plain oats, a banana, and coffee with half and half.

Somehow I never get bored of this breakfast. If I happen to be having breakfast in a restaurant and/or am traveling, I order the closest equivalent off the menu.

I know it sounds bland, but it's what I like. And it makes me happy.

Which in large part is the point of food, right? Many of us develop unhealthy relationships between food and comfort, but seeing it merely as fuel doesn't feel like the right approach, either.

Somewhere in between is a fulfilling mental, physical, and even emotional connection between what we eat and the happiness it gives us.

My non-descript little breakfast routine never fails to make me happy, so I stick with it. Even today, thousands of miles away from the ancestral home of my German grandma Bertha Spitznogel, I still sometimes find myself wishing it was Frühstück in the middle of the afternoon.

My love-love relationship with coffee

If you type "coffee" in the little box to the right labeled "Search This Blog," it will return nearly two dozen different posts I've written over the years about (or at least mentioning) my favorite beverage.

This is almost as many as you'll get if you search for any of my kids' names. And those kids, along with Terry, are ostensibly what this blog is all about.

The reason, of course, is that I love coffee.

I used to say I wasn't addicted, but now I know that to be untrue. I get antsy if I don't have my coffee. Not so much tired as just...antsy. I really want/love/enjoy/need that cup of joe.

Four cups a day, actually. That's how much I drink consistently. I know people who drink a lot more, and I know others who have maybe a cup a day and are horrified at the thought of four in 8-10 hours.

I also know those who never touch the stuff, which I very much respect.

I was a never-touch-the-stuff guy up until around 2011, when I hit my early 40s. As I've often mentioned, some switch flipped at that point and I went from never having coffee to having much, much coffee. That switch hasn't turned off since.

I like the smell, taste, and feel of a hot cup of coffee. I write pretty condescendingly about smokers in an upcoming post, but I understand that sort of attraction/addiction.

I make mine in a Keurig, which coffee snobs and the environmentally conscious alike treat with contempt. I have almost no standards when it comes to coffee, though, so I'll take the cheap K-cup product any time.

Breakfast for me is always, always, always the same: A cup of plain oats, a banana, and a cup of coffee.

I am a creature of habit.

And addiction.

But what a sweet, wonderful, half-and-half-infused addiction it is.

Uninformed opinions on five meaningless debates

Bagels vs. Doughnuts

I come down Team Bagel here, but only because in my mind bagels are generally healthier for you. Really, though, some bagels are so full of sugar and not-so-great stuff that this may be more of a toss-up than I realize. Still, I'll take a cinnamon raisin bagel any time you want to offer one.

Ford vs. Chevy

The reality is that I don't care. I'm not a car guy, and for the last several years I've driven only Hondas anyway. But I realize this is the eternal question for many Americans, particularly when you start talking about trucks and throw Dodge into the mix. Put me down as "undecided."

Beatles vs. Rolling Stones

I'll always pick the Beatles here, but I think of the Stones the way I think of Rush: I really should like them more than I do, and I probably would if I listened to more of their music. I just can't be bothered to do it, which suggests I'm getting old (or I'm already there).

Coffee vs. Tea

I'll take both, but I drink way, way more coffee. Like, a minimum of four cups a day, and usually it's five. I wish I could get myself into the green tea habit.

Ginger vs. Mary Ann

My wife looks way more like Mary Ann than Ginger, so my choice here is clear. This is the one in which I have the most confidence.

In June I'm going to walk from Western New York to Cleveland, and I need to get in shape for it

It must be "250 Week" here on the blog. Yesterday I told you how I was duped out of $250. Today I'll fill you in on my plan to walk 250 miles.

So my company, Vitamix, will be celebrating its 100th anniversary in 2021. This surprises a lot of people, many of whom assume we couldn't have been around before 1980 or so. But it's true. Vitamix (which wasn't actually called Vitamix until the mid-60s) was founded in 1921 by William G. "Papa" Barnard, the great-grandfather of our current president and CEO Dr. Jodi Berg.

Since 2017, I have been planning the various elements of our 100th anniversary celebration in my role as Director of Communications. We'll be doing all kinds of things, both internally and externally, to mark this milestone, which only a very small percentage of businesses reach.

One of those activities is my little walk. Back in 1938, members of the Barnard family joined a man named Bernarr Macfadden on a 265-mile walk from Cleveland's Public Square to Macfadden's "Physical Culture Hotel" in the village of Dansville in western New York.

Macfadden was the Jack LaLanne of his day (if you're old enough to get that reference). He was preaching the benefits of exercise long before it was cool. He hosted these long-distance walks every year for a period of time in the 1930s, starting from a different city each time. 1938 marked Cleveland's turn.

Anyway, I plan to recreate the walk by myself this coming June. The thing is, the Physical Culture Hotel no longer exists, nor is Vitamix (then known as "The Natural Food Institute") based any longer in downtown Cleveland. So my plan is to start in Dansville and make my way westward to Vitamix HQ in Olmsted Township, Ohio. We'll promote my walk through our employee and public-facing social media and communication channels to try and bring some attention to the Vitamix 100th anniversary.

(By the way, the distance is slightly shorter than the 1938 walk because of the existence today of certain walkable roads that are more direct and weren't around 80 years ago.)

The trip should take me 15 days, assuming I can walk an average of 17 miles a day. This, it turns out, is no easy feat. Walking or not, that's a long distance to cover in one day when you have to get up again and do it the next day. And again the next day. And again the next day. And so on.

So I've been walking almost every day an average of 30 miles a week to build up my stamina. My training walks are almost always right around 15 minutes a mile. I would imagine we'll have to back that off to 16 minutes or more when the time comes in order to prevent injury, which is a real concern when you're 51 years old.

I also have to drop some weight. I have been steadily gaining since I was down to a very skinny (for me) 166 pounds back in 2016. I'm off to a good start there, but there are still pounds to shed so that I can minimize the impact on my joints from so much walking.

There are perhaps two morals to this story:

(1) You should always try crazy things. It will keep you young, at least in your head.

(2) Don't allow yourself to get out of shape because getting back into it when you're no longer in your 20s is tougher than you would think.

My only concerns? Getting enough coffee every day and figuring out where to pee while I'm walking (these two things obviously go hand in hand).

10 things I never realized would make me so happy

(1) The first cup of coffee in the morning

(2) Sitting and contentedly watching your child play a sport or engage in a school activity

(3) Mozart, Beethoven and Tchaikovsky

(4) My wife's laugh

(5) The second cup of coffee in the morning

(6) Checking off every item on my weekly to-do list

(7) Having a few hours to myself with no appointments or other commitments

(8) A freshly mowed lawn (I'm talking about when it's MY lawn, of course, not someone else's)

(9) Cleaning out the top dresser drawer where I keep a little bit of everything

(10) You're expecting me to say the third cup of coffee in the morning here, aren't you? Well, I'm not going to say it. Because the FOURTH cup of coffee makes me way happier than the third, so I'm going with that. No, I don't know why, but it's my blog and my list, and therefore I reserve the right to throw logic out the window.

Why does coffee make me so happy?

I've been pondering this question for the last few years, ever since I started drinking the wonderful hot elixir derived from the "grano de café." (That's "coffee bean" in Spanish. It seems like coffee beans are almost always grown in Spanish-speaking countries, so I broke out the Español there because it sounded cooler.)

Drinking coffee makes me happy. The actual physical act of ingesting it warms my heart, both literally and figuratively. But why? Why is that? What is it about coffee that I love so much?

I have three theories:

(1) It comforts me

I know the caffeine in coffee is supposed to rev you up and give you energy, but it actually seems to have the opposite effect on me. Coffee makes me feel relaxed and content, much like alcohol does for many people. I drink a cup and I just feel...<insert relaxed sigh here>

(2) It tastes and smells SO DARN GOOD

I've mentioned before that this is the part that baffles me. Ten years ago, the taste of coffee repelled me. Now? Much like wine, I suddenly love it. I can't explain the switch, but I love it. I take mine with two tablespoons of half-and-half. And I never, ever get tired of the scent or the flavor.

(3) It keeps me from eating so much
As chronicled in this blog ad nauseum, I try to eat well and maintain some semblance of a healthy weight. Coffee, relatively low in calories even with the creamer I add to it, keeps me feeling full, and therefore presumably deters cravings I might otherwise indulge with sweets, processed junk and all manner of culinary nastiness.

Oh coffee, you do so much for me. How can I ever repay you? By drinking you, that's how. I will show my appreciation by continuing to drink you in mass quantities.

10 ways I'm different now than I was 20 years ago

(1) I love coffee and wine. I used to hate coffee and wine. Especially wine. Now I regularly consume both. There is no logical explanation for this.

(2) I lost hair on top of my head. Most days I forget this is the case, because I don't regularly look at the top of my own head. Then I'll see a picture of myself from the back and realize, "Oh yeah. That."

(3) I'm more careful about using the brakes on my car so they last longer. A few $600+ brake jobs will do that to you.

(4) I no longer sincerely believe the Cleveland Browns or Cleveland Indians will win a championship during my lifetime. I used to hold on to this belief because I couldn't stand the alternative. Now I'm more honest with myself.

(5) I don't talk as fast. Or at least I don't think I do. I used to talk fast all the time. Maybe my brain is slowing down. Or maybe I'm just generally a lot calmer.

(6) I listen to a lot of classical music. Much like coffee and wine, I was never a fan until a few years ago. Who knows why?

(7) I not only don't need to have a lot of money, I don't WANT a lot of money. I've seen the problems money causes. No thank you. (Nor am I looking to be poor, either, mind you. Just comfortable. How about that?)

(8) Twenty years ago my worldview was limited to North America, as I had only visited various parts of the U.S. and Eastern Canada at that point (well, I guess I also spent a few hours in Mexico when I was 8). Since then I have visited Germany, France, the UK and China. It's amazing what spending time in foreign countries will do to your perspective.

(9) I don't wear glasses anymore. Nor do I wear contacts. God bless you, Guy Who Invented LASIK Surgery.

(10) The number of children in my house has exploded by 400%. This is more of a wonderful thing than I can even begin to describe to you.

Being the new guy in the office

Today is my first day of work in more than four months. I am, as you may have noticed, extremely excited about this fact.

Part of the reason is that I am very good at being The New Guy.

Having worked at eight different places over the last 20 years, I'm well acquainted with finding my way through a new office, from figuring out the internal culture to exactly where they keep the coffee.

It's a process of constant adaptation, deference and friend-making.

It's also mentally exhausting, because it takes months to really get everything down. But it's worth the initial effort.

For example, I make a point of being proactively friendly when I start a new job. I'll aggressively seek people out and introduce myself.

Even if, as is the case about 20 percent of time, that person is just a visitor who doesn't even work there. In those situations, they're more frightened of me than anything else.

Mostly, though, you're able to make a good first impression by doing this.

Good first impressions are useful, because your co-workers are more likely to help you if they think you're a pleasant person. It also helps to project an aura of competence, especially if the way you do your job affects the way they do theirs.

I'm pretty good at projecting competence. That doesn't mean I have competence, only that I'm excellent at seeming as if I know what I'm doing.

I also go after what the professional self-help books like to call "low-hanging fruit." I find some relatively easy project to tackle early on, and when I complete it successfully, I make it seem as if it was a great problem I have solved to the long-lasting benefit of the organization.

People always seem to be impressed by this. Or maybe they're just taking pity on me and want me to feel good.

Either way, I feel like I've pulled one over on them.

Another great New Guy trick is the come-early-leave-late approach. Everyone knows you're going to be gung-ho when you first get there. And they'll expect the long-hours routine to fade out quickly.

But if you keep it up, people will start to think, "OK, this guy isn't going to bail on us. He's dedicated. I like that."

Or at least that's what I assume they're thinking. They may actually be thinking, "What a total suck-up. This guy will flame out in less than a year."

I choose to believe the former.

50 Shades of Java

Over the past two years, I've developed a deep addiction to caffeine in the form of coffee. And I haven't been reluctant to discuss it.

If anything, unemployment has deepened that addiction. I average five cups a day, which isn't that much compared with a lot of people but is still pretty hefty when the majority of the coffee comes from your Keurig machine.

I love my Keurig. I received it as a gift last Father's Day, and it has undergone high levels of use every day since. The problem, of course, is that getting coffee from individual K-Cups is not nearly as economically efficient as making a pot or two with a conventional coffee maker.

But I love the K-Cup coffee. I mean, I love it. That first cup every morning is heavenly. I'll brew it up and then just stare at it for a minute. The deep, rich, dark brown color. The way it fills out my soccer ball mug (I must drink my coffee from the soccer ball mug. I don't know why.) It's beautiful, and it turns an even nicer carmel-y color when I add in the half and half or Carnation creamer.

Then comes the smelling. Oh my, the smelling. That first whiff. My knees buckle a little. I'm not kidding. Sometimes the first smell is so awesome that I start to lose consciousness for a second. That can't be normal, can it? No, probably not. But I really, really like the way it smells.

(NOTE: At this point, you're probably worried about me. And I understand and appreciate your concern. But don't judge me. Just leave me and my hot beverage alone.)

The next step, as you might imagine, is the tasting. The thing with me in this department is that I have the least discriminating palette ever. I like all kinds of coffee. Do you understand? ALL. KINDS. OF. COFFEE. Light, dark, Brazilian, Colombian, bold, blonde, whatever. Doesn't matter. My only criterion is: Does it have coffee taste? Yes? Then that's good enough for me!

The Keurig manual advises you to try different kinds of K-Cups until you discover your own personal flavor. I've already discovered my personal flavor. It's "coffee." I'm like a cheap caffeine floozy.

I'll drink it black if I have to (my daughter Chloe drinks it that way a lot), but I prefer the creamer. Half and half offers the best flavor, but it also costs me one Weight Watchers point, whereas the low-fat Carnation is point-free. I drink enough coffee that those points accumulate quickly over the course of the day, so I'll split time equally between the two creamer agents.

I also plan out my coffee drinking. After I down the first cup, I wonder how soon before I can have a second cup without looking like a junkie. And then I'll realize that no one is watching me, so I'll brew up cup #2 to take with me to the computer to start the day's job hunting and/or freelance writing activities.

Cup #3 can sometimes wait until lunch, but it's usually closer to 11 a.m. It helps me bridge the gap until the mid-day meal, which is a function of coffee I've come to appreciate as I've lost weight. It really does a nice job of keeping you feeling full so that you don't get too hungry. Not getting hungry means I don't eat as much. Not eating as much means I lose weight. Losing weight means I'm more healthy. Hence, coffee = medicine. I don't think that's too much of a leap to make.

Cup #4 generally happens around 2 p.m., which is also when my wife has a scheduled coffee dose (though for her it's probably not quite her fourth of the day). This gives us a little time together to talk and review how the day is going. Thus, coffee is not only medicine, it is also a marital aid. (I seriously cannot believe I just used that phrase.)

Cup #5 happens a little before dinner. Again, it's a nice bridge before the last meal of the day, hunger-wise, but it also helps keep my attention on whatever work I'm doing. So in addition to medicine and, ahem, marital aid, coffee also supports my career. I'm telling you, it's like a miracle drink!

If there's going to be a cup #6, it is decaf and it happens somewhere in the 7 to 9 p.m. range. I always tell people that caffeine doesn't keep me awake at night, but I'm honestly not 100% convinced of that, so I hedge my bets a little by making #6 of the low-octane variety. Doesn't matter to me, really, since it still has the same great smell, taste, temperature, etc.

Sometime later, Terry and I will crawl into bed and I'll give a little sigh of contentment. Usually I'll look back proudly on whatever I was able to accomplish that day, and slowly I'll drift off to sleep for the proverbial long winter's nap.

And the best part is, it's only eight more hours until cup #1...

Oh coffee, my coffee

I spent more than four decades as someone who didn't drink coffee. "No, thank you," I would say whenever someone offered me a cup. "I never touch the stuff."

And it's true, I didn't. I didn't like the taste. I was good with the smell, but the actual coffee drinking experience fell far short of my expectations.

Then suddenly, I liked coffee. It wasn't a gradual thing. Just one day about a year or so ago, I started liking coffee. I can't begin to explain it.

Now it's rare that a day goes by that I don't drink at least a cup, if not two or three. My consumption doesn't go much beyond that, so you can't say I'm a total addict. But yes, I will admit that I have developed some level of dependency on the sweet, caffeine-laced elixir.

I take mine with three creams, no sugar. I always thought that sounded so grown-up: "I take my coffee with two creams, two sugars." Or "I drink it black" or whatever. Now I have my own coffee preference, and at the age of 42 I'm starting to feel like an adult.

Of course, it's a lot more hip to like coffee now than it was, say, when I was in high school. Coffee was an old person's drink. Now my wife makes it for my two high school-aged daughters almost every morning. What they drink is what I would classify as "frou frou coffee." There's a lot of sugar and flavoring and maybe a splash of coffee. More like a "coffee drink," I suppose.

I'm probably in the minority of coffee-drinkers who drink it more for the taste than for the pick-me-up. The reason, simply, is that caffeine doesn't have much effect on me. Really. If I'm tired in the morning, I can drink a cup of coffee and still feel tired afterward. I can drink coffee at 10 p.m. and be asleep an hour later.

It's kind of disappointing, actually. There are days when I would LOVE to get the coffee buzz, but my system doesn't respond in that way. Well, maybe to Starbucks coffee. Starbucks coffee has ridiculous levels of caffeine. Like you almost can't believe it's legal. There have been times when I've had a grande coffee from Starbucks and found myself a little hyper for the next 30 minutes or so, but that's about the extent of it.

As a relatively new coffee drinker, there are things about the art of coffee that still elude me. For example, why is the coffee I get in a restaurant always, always, always better than the stuff we make at work? And especially better than the coffee that comes out of our coffee-maker at home? Do they use better coffee? Better equipment? Distilled water? The blood of a goat? What's the differentiator here?

And when I get old, am I going to be one of those McDonald's Coffee Guys? You know the guys I'm talking about. They're the groups of old men who frequent McDonald's restaurants at about 9 o'clock every morning and sit there for hours drinking coffee while they argue, complain, and just generally have a good old time. Will that be me in 30 years? Is there some sort of law mandating that men of a certain age report to McDonald's every weekday morning at the same time? I guess I'll find out.

In the meantime, I love me some coffee. Oh yes, I do love me some coffee.