Category Archives: coffee

Do Not Disturb the Boring

Nothin’ But A Good Time



Coffee again.

Egg, fruit.

Sweating, exercising, showering.

Book reading, reading, and reading.

Salad, crackers, maybe sandwich, maybe soup.

Some combination.

Bird watching, bird feeding, bird watering.

Bird seed, hummingbird nectar.

By bird bath spying.

Flower and plant eyeballing.

Insects, squirrels acting squirrelly.

Reading, fiction or non.

Writing and inadequacies explore.

Salmon and broccoli.

Clean, wash, some home upkeep.

Read, Read.

TV, perhaps.

Resist overdose on Internet.

Resist. Reflect.


Weekly Writing Challenge: I Remember the Coffee

My friend wants me to add a vitamin powder to my water and drink it in the morning instead of coffee. She said it’s healthy and makes you feel better than coffee. I’m not too sure about this idea. Morning would be even less palatable without the smell, taste, and ritual of that lovely brown liquid.

You see, I’ve been a coffee drinker from way back. Practically from breast to coffee cup. I think my grandparents brought this coffee-is-good-for-kids idea from Europe and my mother kept it going.

My mother and grandparents firmly believed that a hot or warm beverage was always healthier than any cold one. They avoided cold drinks. My grandfather’s favorite drink was hot water with a bit of milk mixed in. He lived to the age of 93 so maybe they were on to something.

My mother was shocked to learn that kindergarten classes offered a cold carton of milk halfway through the day. She insisted that the teacher remove my milk from the refrigerator about an hour before snack time so that it could turn lukewarm. Soon other mothers thought that was a good idea and three or four other milk cartons were warming up with mine. How many kids began to hate me at this point, I’m not sure.

In first grade, I had a Disney lunch box with a matching thermos. One day my mother filled the Disney thermos with coffee. During lunch, the thermos started to leak. I knew that everyone would discover my dirty little coffee-drinking secret.   The teacher set my leaky thermos in the sink while the other kids watched and speculated. Maybe it’s hot cocoa some of them said. But the coffee smell couldn’t be disguised. This coffee incident made the whole class think I was one strange kid. But it wasn’t me doing the brewing and pouring, I was just the recipient of drinking what “was good for me.”

My memories and addiction make letting go of my morning coffee nearly impossible. Yet I do rebel a little. Sometimes I order iced coffee at the coffee shop. My grandmother would never have understood cold coffee. It would have been her turn to be shocked and confused.