Kopi Luwak

Today, HR was telling us about kopi luwak, which is a gourmet coffee from Indonesia.  It is made from partially-digested coffee cherries that are eaten and defecated by the Asian palm civet.  The defecated coffee cherries are then collected, washed, and roasted.  Producers of the coffee beans argue that this process of digestion and defecation actually improves the quality and taste of the coffee through both selection and digestion.

The fact that the Asian palm civet, or luwak, a nocturnal catlike animal, will choose only the ripest and most flawless coffee cherries to eat ensures that the coffee beans are of the highest quality.  The biological and chemical mechanisms in the luwak’s digestive tract alter the coffee beans, making shorter peptides and more free amino acids and reducing the beans’ bitterness through malting germination.  Kopi (the Indonesian word for “coffee”) luwak is more of a gimmick or fad coffee rather than being known for its exquisite taste, but it is still one of the most expensive coffees in the world with a retail price of $700 per kilogram.

This got me to thinking.  If horses are valued based on their bloodlines and heritage, then are luwaks also valued for the quality of the coffee that they produce?  Are there domesticated luwaks out there being force-fed coffee cherries laced with laxatives to speed up production?  Are luwak babies bought based on who their sire was with the hope and anticipation that they will defecate high-quality coffee too?

In all honesty, while defecated coffee beans might sound completely disgusting to you, I’m not actually bothered by this.  As far as I’m concerned, this is no different than regular coffee in taste and style.  All coffee is crappuccino, no matter where it comes from.  So, you can keep your Poopi Kopi, and I’ll wake up the old-fashioned way…with a shower and a hot meal.

A Matter of Color

I don’t know why it’s so taboo to say that someone is a different color than you.  It’s not an insult or an insinuation of lesser value.  It’s just an observation.  They are a different color.  I don’t think acknowledging that is racist.  I think associating a value or social standing to someone’s color is racist.  But just noticing it and pointing it out is not.  People are too sensitive about those things.

SR was telling us that her little 4-year-old daughter was talking about one of her friends at school, and when SR asked her who she was talking about, her daughter said, “the little brown girl.”  SR was appalled and told her daughter that she couldn’t say that about people.  And my question is, “Why not?”

If we were to think from the innocence of a child instead of the ignorance of an adult, then we wouldn’t see anything wrong with that.  Her friend is brown.  That’s a fact.  It doesn’t make her less of a human being.  It doesn’t make her less of a friend.  Our terrible history has wired us to freak out about such things, and we pass it along from generation to generation.  Now, SR’s once-innocent daughter might feel that something is wrong with her friend.  A thought that she might never have developed on her own has now been implanted in her head.

Honestly, I don’t even think about race or someone’s skin color until someone points it out to me.  I mean I notice it as a passing thing, but only to recognize how God has made us all unique and beautiful.  I don’t think of someone else as anything but human.  I try to view people like God views them…with the same innocent, accepting eyes as SR’s daughter.

The Almost First Husband

My wife and SR went to the spa today, and they were talking about their pasts.  SR was telling my wife about her first husband and about how God used those experiences to lead her to her current husband.  I looked my wife straight in the eyes, and I asked, “Did you tell SR about your first husband?”  She replied, “I don’t have a first husband.”

I threw my hands up in the air in exasperation and exclaimed, “What am I?!  Flying liver?!”  I’m now starting to understand why she still hasn’t acknowledged that she’s married to me on Facebook.  I mean it’s been 14 years!  What do I have to do to get out of the probationary period?!

Ramadan in Alaska

My friend ML will be observing Ramadan at sunset tonight. According to Wikipedia, “Ramadan is the ninth month of the Islamic calendar, and is observed by Muslims worldwide…to commemorate the first revelation of the Quran to Muhammad.”  The annual observance lasts for thirty days and consists of fasting from sunrise until sunset every day.  So, during the daylight hours, “Muslims refrain from consuming food, drinking liquids, smoking, and engaging in sexual relations.”  That’s right, no nothing while the sun is in the sky!

So, this led me to wonder what Muslims in Alaska do when they get a time of midnight sun, when the day can last for 24 hours.  That is a long time to go without sexual relations…I mean, eating.  Funny enough, I’m not the first person to ask this question.  Rules have actually been established for Muslims living in areas of the midnight sun.  They can either follow the timetable of Mecca and observe a “day” based on hours rather than the sun in the sky, or they can follow the day/night cycle of the closest country to them.

Dog Metal

RH showed me a gem today during our one-on-one meeting.  It was a YouTube video of dogs playing death metal music.  The video employed all of the classic elements of death metal from deep growling vocals, to powerful drumming, to aggressive guitar riffs, to slow-motion body movements.  But all of it is played by a variety of dogs.  The video is only around a minute long, but its effectiveness is brilliant.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=DFK1ivuS1k0

View from the Parking Garage

I thoroughly enjoy the mornings when the sky is filled with an abundance of clouds in a myriad of shapes and sizes.  I love how they float together, changing their shape as they collide and combine, forming new clouds.  I love how the texture can be imagined from the varying shades of grays and whites.  They are like silent sentinels floating above us, casting fleeting shadows, as they make their way across the unhindered blue landscape above.  No matter how many times I see it, it is never the same from day to day.

There is something so serene and peaceful watching the clouds move, seeing the sun’s light cut through their softness and radiate its beams to the world below.  And just when you think the sun will overtake the clouds, because its brilliance can’t possibly be contained by masses of floating water droplets, the clouds glide together, completely unfazed by the light, and cover the sun in darkness.  So that their floating, hulking masses are rimmed in luminescent beauty.

I love getting to work early, so that I can drive up to the top of our parking garage and watch the clouds perform their dance without power lines, or buildings, or trees getting in the way.  I get an unhindered view of God’s beauty at work in the city.  When the air is cool, and the breeze is nice, I wish I could stay up there all day and just watch the simplistic complexity play out before me.

$500 Apple

A woman flying on Delta Air Lines from France to the United States was fined $500 by the U.S. customs agency for carrying undeclared agricultural items across international borders.  The item in question was an apple that was given out by the airline as a snack during the flight.  She had placed the apple in her bag to eat on a later flight, and it was found during a random bag search.  The customs agent who found it asked the woman if her flight to France had been expensive.  When she replied that it had been, the customs agent replied, “It’s about to get a lot more expensive after I charge you $500.”

In addition to the fine, they also revoked her Global Entry status, which allows for expedited security checks, and put her on the watch list, so that she will automatically be searched on every flight for the rest of her life.  A Delta Air Lines spokesperson stated that “The apple in question was part of an in-flight meal meant to be consumed on the aircraft.”

The woman is pursuing a legal case against both the airlines and government, and she has taken to Twitter to warn others about this injustice. #anappleadaydoesntkeepcustomsaway

Honestly, this story sounds like something that would happen to me.  But the guy sitting next to me on the plane smuggling drugs would get through.

End of an Era

Today was my boss’s last day.  He had been with the company for over six years, and hired pretty much everyone on the team, including myself.  And while we have known other bosses during those six years (such as the one-year stint when he got demoted), in the hearts of his people, he was always the boss.  He garnered a sense of respect that no other leader of the team did.  He was loved.  He will be missed.

In the last three months, I saw flashes of the man that I knew in the beginning.  He was more focused on his associates, more engaged in the team, and more humble and thoughtful.  The experiences and politics that he had endured over the years had finally broken him.  And when you are broken, then God can finally help you reorient and see what matters.

In his words, he was able to see his legacy and be proud of what we had built.  He could be satisfied that he was leaving things in a better place than when we started.  I’m not sure what tomorrow will bring.  If I have learned anything about corporate life, it is to expect everything and just go with the flow.  We will adapt; we always do.  I hope the next steps allow us to build on the foundation we have and reach the potential that is sitting untouched and untapped.  We are in a good place, but we can be so much more.  My biggest fear is that we will get someone that will just keep the status quo.

The War Cry of the Sprinkler

This morning my sprinkler went off while I was eating breakfast.  It was still dark outside, but I could hear it as it cleared the air out of the line and started spraying water on the yard.  It said, “pfft, pfffft…sphlfffffft!”

All my mind could imagine was my sprinkler telling the world and the day what it thought of them.  One big, wet raspberry in defiance and rebellion.  A war cry of “Yeah, you may have beaten me down, but I’m still here!  I’m still in the fight!  So, let’s go…bring it…give me your best shot!”  And I was inspired…by a sprinkler.

The Pens

ML wanted to do a tribute for our departing leader.  Taking him out to lunch or giving him a card wouldn’t do justice to the impact that the man had had on all of our lives.  For many, he was the only boss they had ever known, this being their first job out of college.  He represented someone that was willing to take a chance on them and help them get their start in the world.  So, the tribute had to equal the feelings and emotions for the man.

He came to me with an idea of giving KE a pen.  To be honest, I was confused, as this seemed like an odd tribute.  But then he explained that it was like the scene from A Beautiful Mind, where all of the professors placed a pen on the table in front of John Nash.  The gesture was a sign of respect that acknowledged the contribution and impact that the man had had on their field…and on their lives.  And suddenly it was the perfect idea.  I suggested that we also write a note, a personal memory of KE, and attach it to the pen, which ML loved.

We decided to get our entire team involved and to do it after our on-site conference, when the entire team would be in town and at the office.  I was overwhelmed by the response.  Everyone brought a pen, each unique to the bearer’s personality.  The notes ranged from a simple Post-It note to a full-blown card.  One by one, we each made our way to KE’s desk and placed the pen in front of him.  Many also gave him a handshake or a hug, as he was much more than a boss…he was a friend.  At first, he was confused; but slowly, slowly he understood that this was an acknowledgment of his time with us.  We were honoring him.

Some people get a plaque or a watch.  KE got pens.  And I think he’ll cherish them much more than the other two.  Each pen, each note, was more personal than a plaque or watch.  It was a fitting tribute, and he got choked up as he tried to express how much it all meant to him.  Even though the Lord has other plans for KE, he will still miss his team.  He will still miss that which he spent the last six years of his life building and shaping.  He will still miss his interactions with us and how he helped us become wiser, more mature adults.

We wish you well, KE.  Godspeed, and know that you are missed.

Sumo Prom

After my high school prom, the planning committee put on an after-prom.  This was supposed to deter people from going off to other parties and participating in harmful or regrettable activities.  The theme of the after-prom was Casino Night, so they transformed the hall into a casino; complete with a Blackjack table, a Roulette Wheel, a karaoke machine, and other various games.  But when the fun began, I bypassed all of these and led my date straight to the sumo wrestling mat.

That’s right, sumo wrestling!  For anyone that has not seen this, they dress you up in a large padded suit, complete with sumo hair and mawashi (the belt and loincloth), and you attempt to knock each other down or bounce each other out of the ring.  There is so much padding in the suits to “fatten” you up to sumo size that you can barely feel anything.

But to truly understand the scene that night, you have to have a better picture of my date.  KE was 5’1” tall and probably weighed around 120 lbs.  In contrast, I was 8” taller, although I probably didn’t outweigh her by more than 5-6 pounds.  But the height was definitely an advantage with the sumo suits, because the smallest ones were made for people with an average height of around 5’4”.  So, KE was struggling to even see out of the top of it.  Her suit was so bunched up that she could barely move.  Honestly, it was more of a waddle.

I have been told that to truly be romantic, you’re supposed to let the girl win.  But when an ultra-competitive streak goes up against romance, all while dressed in a sumo suit, bad things can happen.  The moment that whistle blew, I was off like a shot, charging my way across the mat as KE was slowly waddling towards me.  By the time we made contact, I had built up so much momentum, that KE went flying out of the ring!  She landed with a “bumphf!” and then lay there sort of rolling from side to side with her little arms and legs waving and kicking frantically, trying to turn her over.

I am not proud of what happened next.  I am still tortured by the scene in my darkest nightmares.  All I can say in my defense is that sometimes the logical side of your brain stops working; the red bloodlust comes over you, and you cannot stop your body from moving…almost like it’s on auto-pilot.  Seeing my date laying there, completely defenseless and struggling to get up, should have made me feel sympathy.  Instead, I went for the knock-out punch.  I charged across the ring, leapt up into the air, and sumo-squashed her into the mat.

The padding from our suits collided and compacted for a moment before re-expanding and flinging me back up.  I flew off to one side and landed on my back with a “bumphf!” and then lay there sort of rolling from side to side with my arms and legs waving and kicking frantically, trying to turn over.  But I suddenly stopped, and a look of horror came over me, as I looked up into the vengeful eyes and wicked smile of my prom date, standing over me.  Apparently, the momentum of our collision was the impetus she needed to roll her the rest of the way over, and she was able to finally push herself back up into a standing position.

A panic came over me, and I began to struggle with renewed vigor, as she slowly back-waddled her way across the ring.  The next thing I saw was KE suspended in the air above me, little arms and legs sticking straight out spread-eagle.  It was like time went in slow motion, as I watched her sumo suit-covered form descending toward me.  The entire time, she was grinning from ear to ear at the retribution that was coming.  At that moment, there was no love in her eyes, only the bloodlust. 

The impact knocked the air out of me, and the weight of the suits and her body were crushing me, until a moment later, she was flung ungracefully off of me back onto the mat.  I looked over at her grinning face, and I couldn’t help but smile.  Karma may be a bugger, but it sure can be fun too.  Best after-prom ever!