Tag: Life is too short for bad coffee

The Letter Opener

The coffee bar was loved by my daughter and me. We know a variety of ways to create a cup of the magical brew, so beans and gadgets deserved a dedicated space. When she moved out, I sent half of it with her. She took her favorite parts and left mine with me, so there was a lot of empty space.

Sitting in my corner, I look at the table to my right, and its contents describe me. It’s where I sit most mornings after my walk to enjoy that first cup of the day. I’ve been trying to take a picture of this item lying in place, but it’s so shiny it confuses the camera. My corner is also where I sit to read letters from friends, so that’s where the letter opener resides. I never knew I needed a letter opener until I met Dawn.

Dawn mentioned in one of her letters that she sat down with her letter opener and a nice cup of tea to read mine. “That’s the proper way,” she said. I didn’t have a letter opener, but Google could locate one for purchase. An online search revealed one made by Reed & Barton, and that seemed proper to me. The box it came in was so elegant it was difficult to leave it out of the box. Every time I’d use it, which took time to learn the proper way, I’d put it back in the box. Once I started receiving letters more frequently, the box found its home in a drawer, and the letter opener became a tool of everyday life. My daughter told me not to leave it laying by the front door. “If someone broke in, it would be like handing them the weapon,” she said.

The camera wasn’t sure what to focus on.

My gratitude is overwhelming for the souls who add light to my path with letter’s written and received. The love shines as brightly as the letter opener.

Feel the Music

When leaving the house, I like to leave music playing for the animals. I know I’m not alone in this because my neighbor, Hercules, does it for his pets and possibly you do as well. The other day I came home and left the music playing softly in the background while trying to wrap my mind around work, but this song came on and snagged my attention. The beginning reminded me of when Shania Twain said, “Let’s go girls”, but Kane Brown has a deeper voice when he says, “Let’s get it”.

It’s a fun song and who knows, maybe one day I’ll love a man like I love coffee and Chemex. It could happen! 😂

Kane Brown-I love you like I love country music.

The Right to Write

You gotta write everyday and I just learned Morning Pages don’t count as everyday writing. Those pages are simply there to catch yourself thinking.

One of my most loved writer’s is Julia Cameron, and I’m going through her course, ‘The The Right to Write.” Listening to Julia’s sage advice is similar to listening to my Mother if she would’ve written. This course was given to me by my son for Christmas. He asked what I wanted this year, and I know how much he usually spends on me at Christmas, so I told him about the course. The course has more meaning as a gift.

I imagined sitting and watching hour long videos, but that was only in my mind. Julia is smart in making each video one minute or so long, and breaking each lesson into tiny clips, which leave you hungry for more.

Not everything you write is meant to be published. I believe that’s the beauty of the Morning Pages. I can lay exactly how I feel to the page. Julia expressed the importance of writing them by hand, instead of typing. She described typing on a keyboard instills speed and accuracy, but writing on a page by hand brings depth. Those ‘first thing in the morning’ thoughts run deep, which I’m grateful not to publish.

Everyone has a Writer in them, but writing wants to be released everyday. If you need a permission slip, here it is my lovely. You have the right to write.

The Coffee Bar

I’ve written quite a bit about coffee, so it seems fitting to highlight the coffee bar, it’s magic, and staying in that magic.

In the post Wide Open Spaces, the coffee bar was dismantled to allow room for a work related project. That was in September and the project was complete mid October, and then it became simply space. I’d walk by and try new things with it, but it always looked cluttered, and nothing seemed to fit. We didn’t know what to call it, and I’d refer to it as ‘what used to be the coffee bar’. That was a weird mouthful of words.

Then, one day my daughter referred to it as, ‘the coffee bar’, and I knew immediately what she was talking about. It was destined to be.

The Coffee Bar

Reassembling it this week, I saw where I crossed the line before. What began as a coffee bar, fell over into a beverage bar and housed coffee and tea. Our hot tea collection has grown this year, so I left it in the kitchen on the tea cart. Everything on the coffee bar relates only to coffee, well, except for the flowers. 😊 The top level remains empty for creative space.

Life is tricky, and we need to stay in our magic. Tell me a magical part of your life. I missed the coffee bar whenever I walked by and saw it empty. Now, I get to stand there once again and feel the magic of the coffee bar.

She’s That Neighbor

When she told me she was moving, I was happy for her, but sad for me. We didn’t have to see one another everyday to know we had each other’s back. She was my neighbor.

When we had the snow and ice storm earlier this year, she texted me for a Chemex filter. I placed some in a ziplock baggie, and made my way through the snow to her back door. I loved the fact that with everything we could run out of, the Chemex was a priority.

That day confirmed, she’s that neighbor.

I’ve written about ‘M’ before in Just Say Yes and that Blogpost was written through inspiration from her. I can’t fault her for moving because she went back home to be near family, and it’s a joyous occasion when we know where home is. Thursday was my birthday and she revealed herself in a magical way.

I noticed a car parked in front of my house. A woman stepped into the yard smiling brightly, and holding a bouquet of flowers. I stepped outside to meet her and she asked, “Are you Barb?” I nodded my head in agreement, not fully certain what was going on. She strolled down the path to stand in front of me, held out the bouquet and said, “Happy Birthday from M!”

She remembered my birthday and asked a friend to bring flowers! I felt her presence in that moment. Today, she lives in Kentucky, but we chat every week. I believe we’re closer now than when she lived behind me, but that’s how it happens. People like her move into your heart, not just your hood.

Now, she’s in a new neighborhood where she’ll make new friends and soon they’ll discover. Not only is she a forever friend, she’s that neighbor.

Prop Yourself Up

My feet were resting on the step as I placed the piping hot cup of Joe beside me on the wooden planks. I was watching the day begin sitting on the front porch, and not even in a chair, but on the porch itself. My gaze shifted to the Hibiscus that showed me something yesterday that I needed to keep in my memory bank. This beauty was still propped up.

The tomato plant was done producing for this season, but I wanted to reuse that planter it was in. I saw a slender piece of bamboo in the middle of the plant, and for some unknown reason decided to keep it. Laying it on the porch, I dug the retired tomato plant up and placed a new plant in the planter, leaving the piece of bamboo resting on the porch.

Afternoon thunderstorms were coming in, as the wind began blowing through the yard. That’s when I noticed the Hibiscus hanging over the edge of it’s planter. Two branches that were connected had broken free from one another but could still flourish on their own. One just needed some support to help it stand up straight again.

I remembered the little stick of bamboo from that morning and grabbed a twist tie. I stuck the bamboo into the dirt beside the weighted branch, stood it up and attached it to the stick with the tie.

It was like a gift to take in the morning in such a simple way. Not knowing at the time why I kept the little piece of bamboo, it’s purpose was revealed hours later. The Hibiscus was saying, “Hey Barb, You know how to prop yourself up.” This is true, but I’m at a point in my life where I would welcome a stick of bamboo.

The Perfect Cup

I’ve drank some sad coffee this week, and it was of my own making. One morning I made a cup of instant just to use the frother, and it was too strong. I misjudged the balance between the oat milk and grinds.

I moved on to the French Press, thinking I wouldn’t get it wrong, but there again it was bloody awful. I didn’t weigh the grinds and just took a wild guess, before placing them in the press. There was not enough grinds for the amount of water heated, so it poured out and resembled muddy water.

I had all the tools at my disposal for good coffee, and had received beans from three different coffee roasters. My daughter walked by the coffee bar and asked, “You got enough coffee?” My response was, “Yes my darling I’m trying to decide which one I like best, and have it narrowed down to two.”

This one resonates at the moment considering all the rude boys I’ve encountered while learning to date again.

Wild Gift Coffee, Austin, TX.

By Wednesday, I needed to savor a really good cup of coffee. This is when we go back to what we know, and I know the dripper will produce the perfect cup. I chose a cup from the coffee bar and measured the grinds and water specifically for that cup. That first sip was soothing and everything running through my mind for the day ahead melted away, as I embraced a moment of bliss.

It took constant practice to make what I classify as the perfect cup. I can’t control every part of my day, but I can control how it begins, and every step can lead to a sad cup or a perfect cup. Make it a priority and choose the perfect cup.