The Morning Cuppa

How do you take your coffee? Wait--you DON'T? Are you some kinda crazy person? Even my daughter took a sip this week and said, "Ahh...I like that." It's an All-American thing. It should read, "Baseball, hot dogs, apple pie, Chevrolet and coffee," but I suppose that would play havoc with the meter or tempo or some aspect of the jingle.

I digress.

How do you take your coffee?

Back when I was a pup, I took my sugar and milk with 2 tablespoons of coffee. Since this all went into a 6-8 ounce mug, you can guesstimate the amount of add-ins I was using. And, while we're on the subject, what is it with the size of modern coffee mugs? Yes, it's comforting to wrap cold hands around a steamy boat-o-coffee, but then it takes long enough to drink the thing that it's cold halfway through. Boo!

In college, I filled my mug a little more than halfway, added 2-3 teaspoons of sugar, and a large bloop of milk. (That's the technical term. Look it up.) When my kids came along, I stayed just under 2 teaspoons of sugar. When I turned 40-something, and tried the Atkins diet, I actually drank my coffee black for a while. It tasted good, but wasn't satisfying. I dunno. I guess I just needed the milk. Or, to be more exact, the half and half. Or heavy cream. But usually half and half. About 2 tablespoons of half and half go into my 12 ounce mug of African yumminess. Yes, I prefer the African coffees. Or the East Indian. But not Brazilian. But you know that about me, if you've been paying attention.

Today I walked to the frig to mix my morning cuppa, and found -le gasp- no half and half. I was reduced to putting whole milk into my coffee. Now, sometimes that's not a bad thing. When we have raw milk in the house (yes, I'm one of those) whole milk is scrumptious. but we've been having difficulties with picking up our raw milk, and have been reduced to buying the stuff at the store. Although it, too is whole milk, it's just not the same. So my first cup was a meh blend of espresso and whole store milk. For my second cup, here at work, I am using powdered creamer; the generic kind. It has a flavor, but, again, not satisfying. This is what we call a first world problem, my children. I am fully aware that I will live to half and half again. but what does it say about both of us that I took the time to write about it, and you took the time to read? (Insert great big honkin' grin right here.)

(By the way, if you actually took the time to look up that technical term from paragraph 5, you are more first-world than I thought. Second grin.)