Coffee
Posted: February 17, 2008 Filed under: Housekeeping Leave a comment »The coffee pot quit this week. It was red with a programmable timer. I quit using the timer several months ago when I discovered coffee brewing randomly in the middle of the day. Since then, I’ve been plugging and unplugging the pot just in case it decided to make coffee again all on its lonesome.
The morning the pot quit, I was desperate. I started and restarted the red demon ten times. I didn’t get coffee, only E r r E on the digital display. After fifteen minutes of frustration, I crawled back in bed and tagged Bacon.
“The coffee pot doesn’t work. No coffee.”
He messed with it another 20 times before pouring a coke over ice and bringing it to me in bed. It was a thoughtful gesture, but Coke is a poor substitute to a coffee drinker. We drove to Target for a Mr. Coffee, no bells and whistles, but we have coffee.
I didn’t drink coffee until I discovered Starbuck’s at age 35. Not drinking coffee was a rebellious act. Drinking it became a fashion statement. Now, it’s a habit. I could stop here. Caffeine bad–gotta quit. But, coffee’s more than that. Coffee evokes memory.
When I was small, my mama drank it black and scalding. I loved the smell, but I wasn’t tempted. It seemed like drinking hot tree bark. In college I was rebellious. I would do nothing my mother did. My caffeine fix came from Coca Cola. Now, I’ve made the circle. I’m a mom coffee drinker, a lightweight compared to my mother. I drink my tree bark with Nestle’s Quick, but how I drink it doesn’t matter because I know what coffee is.
It’s sun in my kitchen window behind flower boxes stuffed full of green. My little girls are pajama-clad and sleepy-eyed while my dad, my brother, and I drink pot after pot. Talking about everything from liberal politics to car engines, we run more water through, so we can sit a little longer. Pour another cup.
It’s mountains, and the old aluminum pot on the stove in the camping trailer. My nephew brings Starbuck’s because he knows that this is a moment we won’t soon forget. What could be better than dark Sumatran roast in the cold New Mexico morning on the edge of the Pecos’ Wilderness?
It’s bringing my lover a cup in bed, so he can face the day.
It’s Swiss Miss Cocoa left with a note, “for your coffee in the morning.”
If my Methodist upbringing can substitute Welch’s grape juice for the Blood of Christ, then surely, coffee can be the fuel running our collective memories, the fuel of family and friendship. I’ll drink a cup to that.
Cherry For President
Posted: February 14, 2008 Filed under: Mouths of Babes 2 Comments »Presidential politics has been a big topic at our house. In second grade social studies, Cherry has been studying the requirements to be president. You have to be an American born citizen at least 35 years old and have lived in the U.S. for at least 14 years. Cherry realized that under current law, she can never be president because she was born in China.
“I’ll just have to get the law changed,” Cherry said.
Bacon and I extended the second grade curriculum to include a discussion of the current presidental race. Cherry and Coco know the names of the first woman, and the first African-American to be major candidates. We talked about going to see Hillary Clinton when she comes to San Antonio.
Early in the afternoon on the day of the rally, we decided it was too hard to go to see Hillary. It’s on a school night, over late, and on the other side of town. Then, there’s Coco. She hates to stand in line, be still, ride in the car, and stay up late.
Who we didn’t consider was Cherry, an eight year old girl who wants the chance to be President of the United States.
“We aren’t going?”
“It will be late, baby. Tomorrow is a school day. You have homework.”
“But, I wanted to see Hillary Clinton. She’s a girl like me, who might be president.”
The line into McGreehey Arena wound completely around St. Mary’s University. We stood in it for over two hours. It was a warm evening. The girls were terrific. When we got to the door, we were the last people allowed inside. I heard a staff member say they had reached capacity according to fire code. The line outside was still huge.
We stood on the floor in front of the stage. Lots of people with placards were in front of us waving like they were at a pep rally. It wasn’t a great spot, but the girls perched on our backs and Bacon’s shoulders. Sometimes, they stood on the floor and couldn’t see a thing, but they were listening.
On way home in the car, Cherry said, “I hope Hillary gets that law changed.”
“What law is that?”
“The law that says I can be president some day.”
“You’ll have to write a letter, and let her know how important it is to you.”
“Maybe I can send her an email.”
Following the Rules
Posted: February 9, 2008 Filed under: Housekeeping 2 Comments »I have lots of thoughts this week, but unfortunately, few of them are connected.
We went to the Stock Show and Rodeo on Friday. It was dollar day, so we took the girls out of school and called it a field trip. Cherry is a rule follower. It is her nature to be the perfect child. Skipping school to pet a pig doesn’t sound like something she should do, but it is. We had a great time. I will post Cherry and Coco’s big smiles on the photo page. Some of the best educational experiences happen when we take time out from institutionalized learning.
I joined my RWA (Romance Writer’s of America) chapter’s BIAW challenge. BIAW stands for Book in a Week. What it means is that a group of us meet on line daily and write our tails off. I set my goal at 50 pages for this week. It starts today. I have to get writing.
Bacon got the call that he starts his new job on February 18. He has three weeks guaranteed on this temporary position. Pray that the powers that be keep adding to it.
We filed our income tax. We aren’t getting much back, but we don’t have to pay. I am humming Handel’s Hallelujah Chorus as I type.
On one trip to the park this week, I saw a raccoon, a rabbit, a bunch of cardinals, and a deer. So far, my day job doesn’t pay much, but who else can claim such wealth?
