coffee has always been somewhat a major part of my life. from my tenderest years, our after Mass routine on Sunday included a pot of the blackest (decaf) coffee, liberally supplemented with cream and sugar. later, in high school, coffee came to supplement my increasing daily ration of cigarettes, especially my junior year, when i spent more time at big boy's imbibing obscene quantities of obscene quality coffee and chain smoking for hours than i did at school. this routine continued with only minor variation at college. by my senior year i was drinking six cups a day or more--it was the only thing available between meals. there was no improvement in the quality, either. my friend alex said it tasted "like the color brown." i don't know if i've ever heard a better description of anything.
my daily cup of what the Irish call "white coffee". mmmmmm, cream. |
while the mothers were here over baby time, i had a big ol' cup of coffee every morning, served up to me with first-class thoughtfulness. i hadn't been drinking more than the occasional cup of coffee while pregnant, because it just didn't agree (another difference from Finn), and i thought, especially since it was lent, there would be no need to continue pampering myself. not only that, despite the fact that i've been drinking coffee since i was about six, it doesn't taste quite the same.
but i can't stop.
3 comments:
ah, the differences between being pregnant and not being pregnant. from your friend who has a very similar coffee story to tell.
oops i just left a website that is not mine on that comment, and why? because i have not had nearly enough coffee today. off to find more of it. oofda.
Ahhhhhhh, coffee. I like your pic of the "Irish version." Cream. Yes. That's what I gave up for lent, since Fr. D told me I didn't have to do the hardcore Byzantine fast (nursing momma and all that). But I needed to give up something. Something small, but very precious. Cream. That's right, cream in the coffee. Which is the first thing I had on Easter Sunday.
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