That Sweet Coffee Bean

Just a Girl and Her Cup

This afternoon I did something real naughty. Something I will probably pay for well into the night. I will more than likely lie in bed, well past my bedtime, cursing my earlier life choices. However, as the sun went down oh so early and the cold air still seeped into my joints well after the kids and I got home from school, I made a pot of coffee. Well, half a pot. But the damage is done. I am now heavily caffeinated.

The First Taste

I come from coffee drinkers. There was always a pot of coffee brewing in our house. At all hours, you could hear my dad shuffle into the kitchen and the clink of the pot sliding out and back onto the hot plate of the coffee maker. Come to think of it, that probably explains the unhealthy sleep patterns of my people. I am not sure whether I learned to make an White Russian or a pot of coffee first but both could have been listed on my Kindergarten “All About Me” report.

Every once in awhile, I would be allowed a coffee. My parents were Team Black Coffee all the way but of course, mine would be pretty much sugar milk with a splash of coffee. Man, did I love it from the start. Of course I did. Not only am I pretty sure coffee is part of my DNA, I literally was drinking tan sweet milk. And I was so hooked.

I was probably in my early twenties before I truly drank it on the regular. I worked 3rd shift at a hotel and often went days without good sleep. Truth be told, it is possible that I may have went to work a little tipsy from time to time too (standards there were pretty low, plus I was young and dumb). But I had a coffee pot in the office and that is all a gal needs to survive at 3 am.

When A Hobby Becomes a Habit

These days, I live for that first cup in the morning. And the second and the third. Sure, I can admit this may be a problem but it could be worse. I tend to wait until I hear Moose put the pot on before I crawl out of bed. He knows better than to rush me before that. Even the kids know that I can be influenced with some joe. They try to talk me into the bakery on a regular basis with “Mom, you can have a cup of coffee while we eat our cookies.”

I still drink it light, cream and flavored syrup. Every once in awhile, I try to limit the add-ons. You know, to be healthier. But I have never been able to limit the actual coffee. I will literally opt out of a diet plan the second I see no coffee. That is my line in the sand.

A few years ago I was having some pain that led to a mammogram. It was clear. The doctor suggested afterwards that the pain was more than likely related to hormonal and caffeine induced cysts. He said to cut out the coffee and I would feel better. I called him crazy to his face, thanked him for his time and immediately accepted that from time to time, for the rest of my life, my boobs were going to ache like I was in the 1st trimester of the longest pregnancy ever.

My Ode To Coffee

I miss my coffee pot back home, I bought a cheap one here and it isn’t quite the same. Y’all know what I am talking about. Recently Moose made a run to the States and brought back a ton of my favorite coffee and the cheap coffee pot has redeemed itself by doing the San Antonio Blend justice. So I will let it live to see another day. I just hope Old Faithful doesn’t miss me too much, sitting in a storage unit back home.

Pretty Much Heaven

There is no grand revelation to this post. My friend Becky (Hey Becky!) posted about things that make you happy while I was sipping my 5 pm coffee. So I decided to declare my love for bean juice. If you know me, you already know this. I rarely was seen without my travel mug back home and wouldn’t be here either if I had a life. I have no plans of drying out. Nobody wants to deal with non caffeinated Copper. That is how wars get started.


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One Comment on That Sweet Coffee Bean

  1. When I splurge for the Girl Scout cookie coffee creamers, I will drink coffee well into the night. I am even more productive then because the little nugget is asleep, I lock the kittens away, and get shit done.
    Then, when I’ve had enough productivity for one day, I pour myself a glass of wine to wind down.
    My nervous system hates me.

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