Skip to main content

Habemus Donuts!


Dear Members and Constituents,
A couple of you expressed disappointment I made no mention of the first American Pope last week, so let me make it up to you. I just realized the last three generations of my family –my dad, myself and my eldest son- have all had a Pope named after us. I’m not saying we were named after sitting Popes, either -that would be cheating. They were named after us –or so we’d like to believe.
1.     Juan, my dad, was born during Pius XII's papacy and had Juan XXIII named after him.
2.     I was born during Paul VI's papacy and had, not one, but two Juan Pablos (I and II) named after me.
3.     My son Francisco was born during John Paul II's papacy and now has Francisco I named after him.
Granted, names in my family come from the Catholic repertoire (no Apples, Blue Ivys, Kal-Els or Dweezils in our family tree), still, it’s not like we’re medieval Italian feudal lords who might have any influence on the selection process. Furthermore, there had never before been a Pope named John Paul or Francis. What are the odds? Better yet, what are the odds of this happening to my grandson (if and when I have one, that is)? The mischievous side of me wants to plant thoughts for unusual names with my son. Perhaps Gonzo or Siddhartha. That way, if Pope Sid I ever comes around, we’ll know it’s more than just a coincidence.

Speaking of new names, we’ve started a new rotation with a fresh face. Tim Schneberger is the newest Friday Donut Club member proudly makes his debut as “donut boy” this morning with four dozen delicious Winchell’s donuts. They’re so good, they’re holy –i.e. have a hole in the middle.
Felix Dies Veneris!

Comments

Popular posts from this blog

Ashes to Ashes

  Friends, I don’t know about you, but my household tends to use things a tad beyond their reasonably useful life. Cars, razors, pillows... heck, we squeezed the last BTU out of our home’s 25 year old thermostat —15 years is for rookies. This week we bid our fire pit farewell. Structurally unstable and rusted to the core, this contrivance was well on its way to returning to the soil. Memories of s’mores, cigars and shared spirits come rushing back, as does the six foot tall cardboard peach burned atop it, which caused the first stress fractures in the waning days of 2019. Good times! I suppose nothing lasts forever, but memories can add a sense of permanence to the fleeting. So go, grab a donut and make some new memories!! Happy Friday!

To an end to Covid Games

  Friends, As 2021 comes to an end, it’s time to remember and be grateful for another year of life – there’s much for which to be grateful. Sure, some things could have gone better (they always can), but on balance things were good. At the González household, the cathartic process of capturing this year’s essence to burn at midnight is wrapping-up. This year’s theme, “Covid Games from home” uses Squid games (Netflix’s unlikely breakaway hit) as a way to mock the two main Covid variants of concern (Delta and Omicron) and commiserate about working from home with all the weirdness it carries along. Comfy slippers combined with dressing-up from the waist up for zoom meetings (not to mention the quarantine fifteen). As I hope for lots of snow and no wind (lest we need to call an audible on the midnight burn) my thoughts turn to my friends in Boulder county and hopes for a quick recovery. May 2022 bring an end to confinement and lots of opportunities to share donuts. Happy Friday!

BIrds of a Feather

Friends, The early bird catches the worm, however, as the sun rises I’d much rather have a Denver omelet than a diet of worms . Ready to fly the coop, my ducks all in a row, I ponder one more time whether a bird in hand is truly worth two in the bush. Egged-on by my quest to tuck away a nest egg, I’ve decided to change industries and hope that, like the phoenix, my career will also rise from the ashes of change. After all, I’m no spring chicken –my crow’s feet and gray bely my age – however, I have to trust my judgment and believe you can’t catch this old bird with chaff (whether or not folks think me an odd bird for my actions). And so I shall attempt to soar like an eagle, aware that counting my chickens before they hatch would be ill-advised. As I learn to talk turkey in the language of cybersecurity, I will endeavor not to hide my head in the sand, choosing instead to be like a duck – calm on the surface and paddle like hell underneath! And while my excessive use of bird-inspired