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.

All or Nothing

That’s the type person I’ve always been. Sitting here covering a blank page with thoughts, this page began as a title sitting in drafts waiting for some love.

When I was taking care of the yard this summer, I’d water all of the flowers whether they needed it or not. My daughter would look at a new plant and exclaim, “Thrive or die!” 😂 While some needed water directly, others would catch the overflow from the rain head and receive a little anyway, but with me holding the hose, there wasn’t a time where a flower received absolutely nothing.

I’ve been thinking about taking some time off from work and received the greenlight from my Team to do so next week. Friends are already asking, “What are you going to do with your week off, or what do you have planned?” My response has been, “Absolutely nothing”. I have some things in mind, but it’s mainly little things I’ve pushed aside while working.

I want to sit on my bench in front of the fire pit with a steaming cup of coffee and tend a fire. I want to drop notes in the mail to friends and have ordered some cards with each person in mind. I might give the bathroom a thorough cleaning because it’s been wiped down each week, but it needs some love. The only thing on my calendar for next week is a date with a man who I’ve put off meeting over work.

I want to find that fine line between all or nothing and sit there for a while. To quiet the mind and let my heart lead the way because the past few month’s personal lovefest has resembled nothing. That’s the thing about love my darlings. It doesn’t have to be all or nothing.

Missing the Wave

Scrupulous. Intentional. Breathing in moments.

That’s how I envisioned last week would be. Daily life landed me far from the mark, and I missed some moments. One moment in particular hurt my heart a little bit, but sometimes that’s what it takes to snag my attention.

I was working in the yard moving plants as my daughter walked out of the house toward her Jeep. I walk up alongside her, give her a hug, and as she backs out, I stroll over to the pathway of stepping stones in the middle of the yard and wait for her to drive by. Except that day, I had a shovel in my hand and was moving one more plant.

This is something new we began doing this year, and it’s become ritual.

Normally, I stand on the path, wait for her to drive by and give her this wave filled with exuberance, like Miss America after drinking way too much coffee. She waves too, but that day when she drove by, I was in the side yard, so I missed the wave. It’s difficult to know how important something is until it’s missed.

A few days later she was leaving the house and we stepped through our leaving ritual. I suggested when she reached the end of the driveway to turn in the opposite direction and drive by the house one lot over that had been beautifully repainted. She sat there a moment and said, “But if I go that way, I’ll miss the wave.”

I smiled and on que began walking toward the middle of the yard to the path. This time, there was no missing the wave.


There once was a guy who named his dog, ‘Stay.’ When he called him to come the poor dog heard, “Come here, Stay.”