Well, you must begin somewhere, of course. So each morning when the sun peeks over the horizon, Ms. Wonder wakes me for our walk. I never want to get up that early, always feeling the need for an extra bit of what I've heard described as nature's sweet restorer.
I know she gets me up early because it's good for me. And she always knows what's best in any situation. So when she says, get up, I untangle myself from the sheets and exchange pajamas for Arctic outerwear.
When the walk is over, my head is filled with thoughts of steaming cups of bohea made just the way I like it. After feeding the animals, I navigate to that spot where everyone knows my name. The barista will deliver my coffee in a cup with "Have a great day, Genome!" written on the side.
I had no more than shoved my nose past the front door of the Renaissance Cafe and Bean Bar this morning when I was hailed by Vinnie, also known as The Enforcer. I changed course to shake hands, slap backs, and get the pourparlers out of the way when I was hailed again.
"On your left," said the Duck Man, who had sneaked in behind me, and I moved aside to give him free access to the smartphone scanner at the order here spot.
The Duck Man sometimes passes without attention due to an unfortunate hallucination that he is actually sane, but the duck that sits on his baseball cap gives him away. The duck is not a plush toy but an actual Merganser. It acts as a sort of GPS to guide him around innocent bystanders without attracting the police.
Those outside the Inner Circle consider Vinnie to be our group leader, possibly due to his size, vocality, and whatnot. But a true democracy exists in our gathering, with everyone providing opinions and suggestions, and no one paying attention.
The Enforcer is one of three regulars who clump together in our corner of the cafe. He's most often found in the company of Island Irv and the Genome.
Irv has the unusual habit of disappearing when he stops talking. Ms. Wonder assures me that he merely "seems" to vanish, but I've tested her theory and found it lacking. I'm not sure what it lacks, but it lacks something. I'm sure he uses false bottoms and mirrors to accomplish the feat, although he denies knowing anything about it.
It's a diverse group united in a single accord between 7:00 and 8:30 AM. The tie that binds them has three knots: a shared social outlook that includes equal and compassionate treatment for all; a disdain for anything that can be defined as work; and a firm conviction that dogs really can talk and have something important to teach us.
I took a seat between the Duck Man and Island Irv. Duck Man was complaining about the barista telling him he couldn't bring the duck into the cafe, and he, for the hundredth time, explained that it's a companion duck.
"What a curse these social distractions are," said Irv. "They ought to be abolished."
"You think banishing ducks from cafes is a social distraction?" I asked.
"Well, I'm sure Karl Marx would have something to say about it," he said.
You may think it strange when I say that conversations like this are predictable for this group. And as incredible as it may sound, someone in the group usually falls victim to an attack of poetry. The poems often include the subject of sunsets and may describe emotions as virulent as a Greek tragedy.
I once decided to speak out about it and was told my contributions to the morning tete-a-tete were no better.
When I defended my choice of subjects, I was told something more exciting would be appreciated. The exact words were, maybe I could contribute contemporary news featuring someone like Taylor Swift, or Kyle Richards, or Courtney Stodden.
It happens that I don't keep up with celebrity news, but I did offer a quick little tale full of excitement intended to put them all in their place.
"Yes," said the Duck Man, "I see. Very different from the evenings at home with Morgan Freeman.