A Word to Morning Coffee Drinkers. You Know Who You Are.

The subject is coffee, morning coffee to be exact. I haven't tried quitting and don't plan to. It's not that I'm addicted or anything. Really, I'm not. I can quit any time I want to, I just don't want to. It's a simple pleasure that gives me another reason to get up in the morning. I like getting out of bed with the sun and almost without fail look forward to another day, even without the coffee. I think. I love the ritual of grinding the beans, transferring them to the filter, pouring the water in, and hitting that button, knowing that heaven is just around the corner. I don't know where or how I fell into this ... habit. It may have started with something like, "The first hit is free." Here's a picture of the really good stuff:

I was talking on the phone to my sister, Chris, the other evening and we both felt that the day had not been one of our better ones. We each were planning on turning in early. She said, "I don't mind getting to the end of some days, I just want to go to sleep knowing I'll have a good cup of coffee to look forward to first thing in the morning." I completely understood, and agreed. We are both particularly fond of the organic Black Lightning made by Aroma Coffee of Santa Fe. I served it when she came to visit, she found it blissful, and now orders it directly, has it delivered right to her door. I'm not that hard core, but next time I get down Santa Fe way I'll be bringing back some beans.

They say if we fall on hard times coffee beans would be a good thing to be stocked up on, which has a down side to it. I have this vision of the town folk at the end of the lane with lanterns and pitchforks. The once kindly preacher, now leader of what remains of the villagers, will gently say, the first time, "We know you're in there. We're not here to hurt you. We just want the beans." When he asks the third time, with a tad more hostility in his voice, I'll high-tail it out the back door and head for the hills with my stash.

I keep it pretty simple, using ye old Mr.Coffee Maker, nothing too hoity-toity. One day I might step it up. I did the whole French press routine, but found I missed my usual ritual, could never quite get in the swing of the new steps required. Plus, you have to transfer it to a carafe to keep it warm. Then there's the clean-up. Yada, yada, yada. I was glad when it broke. Now, if someone else were to present coffee to me in the morning from a French press I would not complain. I would probably be very happy at that moment for all sorts of reasons. That I shall not go into.

So, that's my coffee story. I have this photo I found online that I just have to share with you. It sort of illustrates how very nice a good cup of coffee (or tea) is, under any circumstance.