Thinking Thursday - ode to coffee

I haven't always had an appreciation of coffee.  Growing up, we were only allowed soda with pizza, and the rest of the time we had water, milk or sometimes lemonade.  In college, I became a hot tea drinker - I liked the coziness of a hot drink with friends, but I didn't like coffee that much unless I added a bunch of cream/sugar to it, and I could tolerate tea black, so I figured that was better.  When I had Bailey though, I became a coffee drinker.

My mom, a 2-cup-every-morning-or-she-gets-sick coffeelover, stayed overnight with me once a week if not more after I had Bailey.  I will never forget those early mornings with her - it made getting up with the baby at 5am so much more tolerable.  She would make her instant coffee (can you imagine, that is what she drank for what, 30/40 years?!  She never had a coffee maker until maybe 2 yrs ago and I didn't have one either!!) and we'd sit on the couches and talk for hours, with sweet baby Bailey in one of our laps or in her beloved swing.  Sometimes she'd make me a hot breakfast, sometimes she'd offer to have the baby so Kev and I could sleep, sometimes she'd be doing our laundry, folding it as we talked.  But there was something so appealing to me about her calmness and energy at that early hour.  My mom is SUCH a morning person, and I am SUCH a night owl.  I wanted to switch over to her side.  (I never really did.)  And I wanted to have a cup with her, it just seemed such a warm and cozy start to the morning.

So I started having a small cup of instant with her.  It was never about the coffee, bc really, instant blows.  I didn't really know better, bc any coffee I had ever had was not great in my book.  Now I know I am a breakfast-blend kind of girl, a lighter coffee.   I don't like coffee dark, and I can't drink it black.  A bit of whole milk and flavored creamer is my preferred set-up.  I have one bigger mugful in the morning, and that's it.  I don't think of myself as addicted to the coffee, but I've become addicted to the routine.  Kevin, bless his heart, sets up my coffee for me every night, and even hits the switch in the morning so I wake to the smell.  He sets out my fave mug with a spoon in it, and if he's left for work already, with a little note.  So here again, just like my mornings with my mom, it's not the coffee so much that I love - it's the feeling it gives me.  Optimistic for the day.  Cozy, warm.  And actually, loved.

Who knew coffee could do more than give you a bit of a jolt.

*Disclaimer.  I have no idea whose pic that is of the delicious looking coffee.  It looks delicious bc it has added cream and sugar.  In any case, I would give credit to whose it is, if I knew - Imagechef.com like the pic says, but I don't know who took it.   I looked up "pic of coffee" and this looked the part I wanted it to play.  That's all.  Someday I will have a clue, and that will be a great day.

Thinking Thursday - furniture

The year before Kevin and I got married, my paternal grandmother passed away.  My dad had already passed away, but my family inherited items from her as we would have if he was still living, which we were thankful for.  My dad was one of 4 boys, 2 were still living - my uncle Tom and uncle John.  They let me have a lot of furniture from her house, which I still have.  Her bedroom set (which was newer, I don't remember the details of why she had a newer set but my dad had either gotten it for her or with her, so it's sentimental to me too) and her dining room set minus the table (a great '40s set, I love it) were what I chose.  I love the furniture and it's served us well.  Perhaps we would have chosen a different bedroom set - I love mismatched pieces, like an antique whitewashed dresser with a black wrought iron bed - but I appreciate what I have.

In Bailey's room, her furniture was my furniture growing up.  The bed, nightstand, dresser, bookcases, desk.  One of the bookcases my dad made, another - along with all of the furniture - he stained.  The desk actually was not only mine but his when he was a boy.  And it was my "crib" as an infant - I was tiny so they took out a drawer and put blankets and me in it.  

Taylor has new furniture, all pieces I chose (a huge green dresser accented with flowers I picked up at a thrift shop, I love it, and a cream colored wrought iron bed) except she has a bookcase my dad made too.  I keep thinking of the girls painting these bookcases and putting their handprints on them.  Ok I will do that.  

Anyway, I love having newer and older pieces in my home.  I love looking around and remembering who/what/when/where with furniture.   Do you have pieces in your home with a memory attached?

This blog post is boring, I know...perhaps it would have been less boring with pictures.  That is on my to-do list, to get a phone where I can take pics and download it immediately.  Ah the possibilities of posts!   Recipes, the kids, projects...

AND...it would accomplish something else off my to-do list...selling items on Craigslist.  I still haven't learned how to do that, but I bet it'd be faster and easier with a camera phone.  Maybe a Mothers Day gift?!

Thinking Thursday - for Ron.

Yesterday - Thursday - a good friend of the family passed away.  I had known him since I was 3, a neighbor down the street.  When my mom told me, I couldn't say anything for a minute, I just couldn't believe it.  He had been very sick and hospitalized - you would think I would have not been so surprised - but there I was, dumbfounded.  My heart broke for his family, and all of the emotions that I felt when my own dad died, were there with the faces of his own 3 children - one of whom is expecting her first child.  I thought of them all night, wondering how they were doing.  

This man was a good man.  A family man, working practically right up to the very end.  He always had a smile.  He helped me study for the SATs in Math, he was so patient with me bc I never did get it.  He was really funny, and he just made you feel relaxed around him.  

The street I grew up on had a handful of families that were really close with each other, and are to this day. My mom's best friends are these neighbors.  You don't really find that anymore...neighbors that include each other in their daily lives, and really have deep friendships.  When my dad died, these neighbors were there for us, doing everything from laundry and meals to just being there.  I hope this family feels that same kind of love and care in these following weeks - it doesn't make it better, it just makes the day a little more livable.  

I like to think of my dad welcoming Ron in Heaven...patting him on the back...a little too hard, and a little too loud as Dad was apt to do...and Ron just smiling, and laughing.  We'll miss you Ron...you were good to us.