Ode to coffee

Coffee is comfort. If I really think about it, I’m almost certain that I don’t enjoy the taste of straight up black coffee. When I started drinking it black, I think that it was for lack of resources. I simply didn’t have cream and sugar. Gradually, it became an attempt to prove something to myself. I wanted to believe that I was capable of drinking the strong black liquid that so many others curb with fancy creamers. I succeeded for a while and reveled in the gasps of those around me every time I choked down a cup. By the time I reached the VAMC, I quite preferred black coffee. Then I ran into a wall. Strong stuff. Black as pitch and tasting equally as sinister. It required massive amounts of both cream and sugar to slice through and create a delicious, deceptively sweet imitation. I acquired a new taste for the latter, and I have not been able to break the habit. I now find myself growing tired of the same old flavor which I drink without fail every morning. What am I to do? Should I try to rediscover my former love of plain old joe? Perhaps I should simply switch up my flavored additions. I certainly can’t afford flavorful café creations every morning. Yet what is more certain is the fact that I cannot give it up. Coffee is comfort in any shape, form, or fashion. I would rather have the strongest, darkest cup over none at all. It just seems to make the world a better place.

Are you having a bad day? Let’s meet at your favorite café. Cold? Here’s something that’ll warm you up! Need a heart to heart? Girl, I know something that will go great with that slab of cheesecake... Coffee.

Videos

Ignore my stupid comments and Johnathan's WoW ramblings in the background. Just focus on the cute kid.

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Many moods...

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Funny girl.

She's as sweet as tupelo honey

I was dreaming through my alarm again. It’s strange how you can be aware of something without completely comprehending it, although I suppose that applies to many day-to-day experiences. By the time the ding of my clock penetrated my brain, it was 6:55 a.m. I’m supposed to leave at 7:00. Perhaps I should have been panicked, but I wasn’t. I even cheerfully welcomed the opportunity to get David some cereal when he padded into the kitchen. As I gathered my belongings and grabbed some fruit, I heard a second set of little feet. Emily had woken up to voices, sat up wide-eyed, and slid off of the bed to investigate. She looked almost frantic as she reached up for me, and I scooped her up for a quick cuddle. Placing her back on the floor, I walked to the closet for my jacket and accidentally dropped my phone in the process. I reacted with a whispered “shoot” as Emily dove for the coveted piece of technology. From the dining room table, I heard a small voice say, “Mommy, you don’t say shoot...” Smiling to myself, I said, “You’re right, David. I shouldn’t say that...” but I was interrupted by him cutting back in with, “...you say ‘dangit.’” I couldn’t help laughing, although perhaps I shouldn’t have. Johnathan moved from the bed to the living room couch, David continued breakfasting, and Emily accompanied me to the door with a piece of banana in each hand. As I made my way down the driveway, I could still see her fuzzy little head peering intently through the glass. I had a hard time tearing myself away this morning, and I will be glad to be home once again. When I got home yesterday, I noticed that petals were falling from the crab apple tree in a snow-like shower. Glancing up, I realized that bees were jostling the blossoms and stood rooted to the spot when I realized exactly how many of the insects were swarming the tree. Every bee in Forsyth County must have been congregating in my yard, and I called Johnathan out to join me in marveling at the sight. Truthfully, it was a bit unnerving to see so many in one area. When I stepped back out an hour later, they had retired for the night, and it was hard to believe that there had ever been anything but quiet stillness among the branches. 

Here and there

My laptop bit the dust. I had slowly been transferring files to Johnathan during our pre-move preparations, but never got all of my “crap” (as he so lovingly called it) switched over. I tried to reformat last night, but everything is running obnoxiously slow. I don’t have time to care too much because I have very little time to sit in front of the screen, anyway. The only real thing I care about losing is my photos, and I think most of them are backed up online. Most of them.

It’s just another manic Monday. My house is finally liveable. I stayed up past my normal bedtime because I couldn’t stand the chaos a day longer. There are still unpacked boxes shoved into closets, but they can live there until I feel like dealing with them again. My new house is quite cozy. I am very satisfied with my surroundings and in love with the yard. There is a crab apple tree leaning over the driveway, and it is currently covered with fluffy pink blossoms. There are red tips and camellias and a clothes line stretching across the back yard. It is very old-fashioned and reminds me of my Grandma’s yard. David has started building a “tree” in a former mud hole. It looks like a cross between a tee-pee and a voo-doo symbol, but it makes me smile to see it standing sturdily despite wind and rain. He seems to be having a hard time adjusting to the move and “doesn’t want the new house.” It comes in spells, and last night, he seemed more like my cheerful David, happily bringing me books to read after bath time. Emily is busy making the house her domain and somehow manages to get into everything within reach. Little feet patter constantly and barely slow when they reach the old furnace grate in the hallway. I’m not sure when I will be able to update again, or even check my email, but I have not dropped off the face of the earth.