Donuts are part of the magic that makes life so sweet. I founded the Level 3 Friday Donut Club in 2004 and ran it until my departure in 2015. It had a three year run at Windstream and is now virtual, but at its peak, we had a rotation of 50+ folks who brought donuts every Friday. We had three simple rules: (1) five dozen (2) boutique shop donuts (3) by 8:00 am. This blog memorializes these e-mails to share my thoughts (and, once upon a time, announce the donut arrival). Have a happy Friday!
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May Arbor Guide Your Donut Choice
Our building remodeling project has delivered a new
“feature”: the parking garage elevator button configuration. Seated deep within
a hole, it reminds me of the Flash Gordon rite
of initiation into manhood. You know, that hollow log where young men must
choose a hole to put their hand into (and hope the green slug wood beast
doesn’t sting their hand). Even though I know this test does not involve the
potential for a maddening death, there is some primal fear that gives me some
pause every time I have to push the dreaded button. In a way, it makes sense.
In nature, you don’t want to put your hand into the den of a burrowing
creature. Whether it be a bear or a badger; a snake, a spider or a scorpion,
the resulting encounter is unlikely to go well for you. So we are
conditioned to be weary. I wonder if the design is intentional. Personally, I
think they should make this a permanent fixture –and build on it with some
additional sensory feedback. Perhaps some dangling nylon strings between you
and the button so something rubs against your hand while attempting to find the
knob. A minor electric shock when you push the switch? A motion-activated honey
badger growl?? So many possibilities come to mind. Fortunately, donuts don’t
come in long narrow tubes, so grabbing one is a lot less stressful. There are a
dozen Holy Donuts here ready to be consumed, so come reward yourself for
braving the elevator call. You’ve earned it!
By the way, if you’re looking for some adventure, I am
looking for four brave volunteers who are willing to bring a dozen donuts into
the office. Let me know if you are up to the challenge.
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
Friends, My family gained a new daughter last week. As I welcome the freshly minted Mrs. González, I wish the new couple a lasting, loving, happy and tranquil marriage. I am also reminded of a special delivery I received at the wedding. A few weeks ago, my niece/goddaughter held a “go fund me” and offered to stitch something for the donors. I, of corse, asked for a horse jumping through a donut. The completed masterpiece depicting this unlikely combo now has a special place in my office, and brings a smile to my face every time I see it. That said, I may forgo the obligatory donut today and opt for some of the leftover cake we still have at the house. Happy Friday! New addition to the Family Horse through donut with the artist Horse through donut at it’s new home shelf P.S. The donut wall in action.
Friends, You know life is good when even dinner smiles at you. That said, digging into smiley soup can pose a dilemma. At a conscious level, you know it’s just inert food. Inanimate, unsentient, incapable of emotion or feeling. Still, those cute cross eyed egg eyes and that little pepper smile are saying ”I’m your friend” —and friends don’t eat friends. Naming your anthropomorphic dish only makes matters worse. Eventually, being the monster I am, hunger wins. Mmmm, delicious! (Sorry, Sally). Speaking of which, maybe skip the smiley faces on that next dozen donuts. Happy Friday! ;-)