sweet vices

Apparently I can no longer function without coffee in the morning.

I blame it on my husband-- he bent to my whim and bought me a Keurig coffee maker for Christmas. I suppose I did twist his arm pretty hard, ohhing and ahhing every time the commercial came on tv. To be able to make one cup at a time (because we never needed more than two on a random Sunday), to have all those different flavors and brews there waiting, trying something new every time....

I do love coffee. I fell in love with it when we were living in London; the stuff over there in Europe, like most everything else, is so much better. So much more real and natural and flavorful. Why do Americans water down and pasteurize and muck up everything? Don't even mention American cheese to me. I'll take a French brie or an English Roquefort any day. And bread? We make "Wonder;" they make fresh loafs of ciabatta and foccacia and rye. The saddest part is that most Americans have no idea what they're missing.

There's a coffee shop on Charing Cross Road down near Leicester Square in London, Caffe Vergnano 1882. It's been almost 5 years, but in my mind's eye I could lead you there, down the windy road, past the Tesco, several theaters, and used book stores. You can smell it as you walk, the bitter richness of coffee mixed with the sweet smell of chocolate and cream. They pour their brews into large glass mugs or squat ceramic cups, an inch of froth on the top of each, from the giant chrome dome-shaped brewer on their counter. Order a mocha or a hot chocolate and they stencil 1882 in chocolate powder across the foam. What I wouldn't give for one of those right now.

I started ordering my coffee black then and continue to drink it black even though until my Keurig I couldn't find a decent tasting coffee to save my life. Even the Starbucks over there tasted better than anything you can get here, or so I thought. The Keurig has reminded me what good coffee should taste like-- rich, strong, slightly bitter but also smooth, smoky or chocolaty depending on the brew. Today I had a Kona extra-bold blend, which was very smooth and light, lighter than what I would usually pick, but good for a change. My favorites so far have been the Green Mountain French Roast and the Caribou Mahogany. I'm almost out and plan on shopping for some more varieties tonight.

The last few days I have been tired at work after lunch, and I think it's because I was refraining from a cup of coffee in the morning. Today I had a cup and am feeling much more awake. I'm torn between worrying that I should cut back (I don't like to be on anything, from caffeine to alcohol to medicine-- it's a control issue) and thinking that I don't allow myself much, so I should at least allow myself to indulge in one relatively harmless thing I enjoy-- a good, rich, dark cup of black coffee.

weekend

I bought my dad a grateful journal for Christmas as a stocking stuffer. My mom told me that she's seen him with it a couple times. I'm hoping that he's actually writing; it would do him so much good. He also found an old diet cookbook while cleaning out my grandmother's kitchen, one devoted solely to eating to improve your serotonin levels. He's been on an SSRI for years and recently his doctor told him that his medicine is helping him to gain weight as it increases his desire for sweets and simple carbs. He's near 300 pounds now. So this cookbook has become his new Bible. He spent all weekend telling me about it and about how he's already lost 2 pounds and thinks this will not only help him lose weight but also improve his serotonin naturally. Here's hoping.

I was in a bad mood last night, but I chose to be happy. I forced a smile onto my face, I skipped to the door to let the dogs out, I hummed a tune, and I planned a good meal for my husband (shrimp paella). At first I felt stupid and unnatural, but then I forgot I was forcing myself and was just happy. It was a revelation. I'm forcing myself again now. If it wasn't for this migraine I've been fighting for three days, it would be working a lot more quickly.

We had more snow over the weekend here than we've had in 20-something years. Over 6 inches on Sunday night, and it still hasn't melted. I worked from home on Monday, but I took some time to go outside and play with my husband and my dogs. Here are some pictures:

distant as the milky way

I woke up in a terrible mood. I've been grinding my teeth at night (I do that when I'm stressed; the last time I was doing it this badly was when we were living in London, barely scraping by financially, I was neck-deep in my graduate dissertation, and my grandfather was back in the States dying of cancer). This type of clenching and grinding eventually works its way down my neck and into my shoulders. My teeth feel misaligned already, and I'm just waiting for the morning that I wake up and can't turn my head. It's happened before, I feel certain it will happen again. Only a matter of time.

I digress.

So I woke up in pain, again, and when my iPhone alarm went off, I noticed I had several unread emails from overnight. One of these was from a particularly angry customer. I spent the rest of the morning agonizing over having to once again come to work and fight these uphill battles, extinguishing fires only to turn around and find more, no rest or respite from the war.

I'm thankful for music today, for the healing and uplifting power it has. Stevie Wonder sang My Cherie Amour over the radio waves just for me this morning, and one can't help but feel happy listening to that song. It encouraged me to keep the good feeling going, so I put on a song that always gives me energy to face anything-- American Girl by the Heartbreakers. By the time it was over, I was at the office, had finished my cup of coffee, and was feeling much better. Well, minus the teeth.

My husband got his Christmas bonus today, finally. We had started to get worried though the boss kept promising it was coming. Enough to cover the windshield we had to buy when mine got cracked by a rouge rock, and no less than last year's bonus, but not enough to make either of us jump for joy. His pay is mostly commission based, and though when he started he was making a good amount, he actually pulled in less than me this year. I'm grateful that even though we're pulling in a good $15k less than we were two years ago, we're still able to live a steady and pretty comfortable life. Thank goodness for our levelheadedness.

But seeing how little we're making also brought to mind all the less stressful jobs we could be doing for the same amount of money. He could be working at his favorite upscale men's clothing store (the man is a clothes horse, so good at dressing others, and he loved working there in college though that was only part-time), and I could be working at a local art gallery. We would both be on the town square, we could eat lunch together, people in town would see us around and think "where do I know them from..." the way we do with people we think of as town characters, or townies, and we would be more fulfilled and less stressed. Alas, neither of those places is hiring, just like everywhere else, and even if they were, I highly doubt that it would be as perfect as I imagine. No where is. Not to mention how painful the ripping off of my current job band aid would be. Ouch.

I have a favorite massage therapist in town, and I need to get in to see him. His next appointment outside my work hours isn't until Tuesday, though. He's gotten too popular. I guess I should have kept my mouth shut about him. But I am glad to see he's succeeding and thankful that at least someone is doing well in this economy. I wonder if I called him if he could sneak me in. I guess it's worth a try.