"Impossible!"
The declaration of ultimate frustration came as a loud shock to my un-caffeinated ears. Not wanting the source of the auditory pain to detour me from my mission to embrace the coffee pot, I answered with a mumbled, "What?!"
"Impossible!!", came the reply now clearly coming from the kitchen table, and definitely coming from someone not comprehending the enormity of my coffee-less existence.
"What's impossible?!", I now shouted, trying to fight verbal fire with verbal fire.
"This puzzle, it's impossible!"
As I fumbled for the blue packets the fog slowly started to lift and I realized that the mysterious voice of futility was my then eleven year old son Michael. But he would have to wait. I, after all, was on a mission.
By the time I exited the kitchen with my steeping cup of sleep substitute I was already wishing that I owned a bigger vessel.
"This puzzle is impossible, Dad." Michael was standing over the kitchen table in his favorite red robe, the frustration in his face nearly the same shade. "None of my pieces are going together".
Before I could offer up any feeble excuses of assistance, my bride floated in the room as she had been summoned by the Queen herself.
"Puzzle, did I hear you say puzzle?"
That 500 piece deluxe collectors series print of five kittens falling out of a suitcase had no idea what it was up against. Diana is a puzzle master and attacks jigsawed cardboard like a jackhammer on hot asphalt.
Feeling rescued I slipped into the Saturday position holding my java as gently as a newborn baby. Someday I would need to address my dependency on coffee, but today was not that day. Listening to my youngest verbally assault the challenges brought forth by his choice of weekend leisure activities caused me to wonder why he was not more confident. How he could lose his edge so quickly.
That's when it hit me. It hit me square in the jaw like a Louisville Slugger on Faberge's vitellus.
He was just like me.
No, today was not the day to contemplate quitting java.....
-b2
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