Overcast, misty, no work…nice breakfast with Jay and Brown at Foreign Cinema; fried eggs deglazed with balsalmic vinegar and sweet sweet bacon. Ritual (Gabe not feeling so good), Blue Bottle (capp via Arno), and back to Ritual. Messy basement/training area…shit. Clean, clean, clean. Set up station: Robur, Supper Jolly, Major. Major! What the fuck?! Water/mold/funk in the burr chamber…don’t leave your shit at work people, it’s bound to get moved from where you left it and put under a leaky pipe. Bummed, sandwich, chips. I need coffee but I gotta get out of here; bike to truck, truck to Santa Clara.
So I’m sitting here at Barefoot lurking on my laptop and lingering over my single origin Sumatra shot staring at its remnants crusted to the side of the cup forming into those wonderfull patterns that the leftovers make and I’m feeling pretty at peace. Sometimes I have so much stuff that I want to get done and so many things running through my head that I need to get to a place where I can’t possibly do anything. I can’t clean here, I can’t experiment here, and I don’t really know anyone here well enough to feel some sort of obligation to them. All I have is myself, my spro, and this here laptop to screw around on. We have much work to do before the USBC…we have a whole slew of new people we need to get trained on bar before then so we can take everyone and not worry about the store caving in on itself. I need to get a little more practice time in myself so I don’t look like a fool in front of everyone in Long Beach. I need to figure out if I can get pulled from the floor enough to help Gabe train the newbies and still find some balance with my home life. I need to find time to change tha gaskets on the Linea downstairs. But not today… today it’s just you and me chillin’. If you’re feeling saucey enough today (are you?), put down your tampers and portafilters, walk outside, smell that air, and don’t do a damn thing. Holla. 
