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French Kisses and Poi Dog

Since we’ve been on this rather odd quest for the perfect cup of coffee at work, I’ve started drinking a French Vanilla variety called (I’m not making this up) French Kisses. It strikes me as odd that they would name a coffee after this. Usually coffees have names that sound rather stout, like “Grande Slam MochaChino Delux” rather that something more delicate, like “French Kisses.” But it’s good coffee, if you can get past the name.

And speaking of odd names, I happened upon a special set of Poi Dog Pondering in the car this morning. It was rather incongruous to be listening to music from Hawaii while driving across the windy Texas plains. Today is an especially windy day, which makes me wonder what exactly is planning on blowing in with the dust. I just have this strange fear of some kind of great impending yet unknown doom. Perhaps, as Ken suggestes, I should stop listening to Cowboy Junkies CDs and tune into more Poi Dog. You have to love that kind of attitude. I mean proudly singing lyrics like, “if I should die in a car wreck/may I have Van Morrison on my tape deck.” It’s the sort of pick-me-up kind of music that Ken really hates. Not that I listen to music specifically to irritate Ken.

While we are on the subject of irritating Ken, he’s emailed me to inform that he’s “got a new Kanchan.” What he actually means by this is that, at a former employer, we had opportunity to work with a pleasantly crazy woman named Kanchan. Kanchan is very vibrant and friendly but she had this one strange fault. She lived for irritating Ken (shhh. Don’t tell her about the Poi Dog.) She used to go to Ken’s office area every day and shout at, interrupt, badger, or otherwise irritate him. It was like she was genetically engineered to drive him crazy. And he used to fall for it every time. I finally had to separate the two by suggesting that Ken and Kanchan were actually lovebirds, which annoyed both guilty parties, stuck me in the middle of the entire mess, but got them to stop ripping at each other’s throats long enough for me to write code that would compile.

Back to the subject of the “new Kanchan.” Every few months, Ken seems to find “a new Kanchan” in his life. Somebody to irritate him, grate on his nerves, drive him bonkers, etc. What he doesn’t seem to understand is that the Kanchan factor as I call it, is actually good for him. It makes him think, keeps him on his toes, and provides a much-needed sense of relief. Kanchan, while she is inherently crazy, was full of fun. And Ken could always use more fun in his life. So, Ken, next time you complain of “a new Kanchan” just think of it as a big French Kiss with a Poi Dog. It doesn’t taste good going down, it’s hard to swallow but, on some level anyway, it’s supposed to be fun.

You do remember what fun is, don’t you?

Until next time, this is Carol, the Carol in “Carol’s Little World” signing off.


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