Archive for the ‘coffee’ Category

i sit in a coffee shop. my favorite one in downtown annapolis because it actually does NOT have tourists. it’s a gem to me, this quiet hole-in-the-wall place with a couch in the front window. the couch is covered with a sheet and stained with caffeinated beverages and remnants of scones.

i choose an over-sized chair to sit in near an electrical outlet so i can plug in. my beverage order is taken. i even get a muffin that i’ll probably only eat half of because it’s so enormous. the muffin is placed on a chipped plate, coffee is handed to me and both of these delectable items join my iphone on top of a small mosaic table.

i sit in a coffee stop. i’m wearing my favorite jeans, though it’s over 100 degrees outside today. my jeans that i hardly ever wash because they fit with such comfort that it is as though they are a precious friend, enveloping me in the perfect hug. my hair is unwashed, curls are damp from humidity. my teeth are brushed.

wait.

runs tongue across teeth… tastes colgate.

yup, they are brushed.

but i forgot deodorant.

because i practically ran out the door this morning. this sunday morning. a morning where some families rush out the door to get to church on time… brunch on time… relatives’ houses on time.

i ran out the door to this coffee shop, this sanctuary, to escape.

and i now sit here feeling an overwhelming sense of guilt envelop me.

i have taken time for myself.

**********

my first “real” boss taught me the invaluable lesson of setting boundaries. i say “real” boss because i consider the time i spent working at a women’s crisis center, straight out of grad school, to be my first “real” job… a steady job. the income was crap, but it was a non-profit agency and i have a tendency to forget that one needs money in order to exist.

my emotions and passion had driven me to accept this job in the first place. my “save the world” mentality had entirely taken over and this was the job that was going to prepare me to save the world… from what, i still do not know, but dammit, i was goina save it from something.

anyone who works in a social work environment knows that it is taxing in ways that corporate america is not. i don’t say this to say one is better than the other. they are just simply different and come with different expectations and needs.

clients needs are different. emotions run high. often you operate in “crisis mode” when responding to a client’s needs because usually those needs are immediate. they come to you NOW because they need you NOW.

the day i turned my 2 weeks notice in to my boss, we both cried.

it was hard.

it’s hard to realize that you can’t save the world, no matter how damn hard you try.

she had taught me about boundaries.

she gave me my sharpie marker.

so, i popped the cap off and drew a straight line.

**********

i sit in a coffee shop. i wonder if life is filled with sharpie markers, some with their caps still tightly on, others with ink nearly gone.

i drew a line this morning.

i needed solace.

i knew exactly where i would go.

i drove here, envisioning these words in my mind, beginning this post in my head while sitting at traffic lights.

and yet, i sit here, now writing these words and feel guilty for taking a moment to put myself first.

i check my iphone for a text from my husband, my parents… from anyone who may possibly need me.

no messages.

because i’ve taken out my sharpie marker and drawn a line. no need to put up a sign that says “do not cross.”

the line speaks for itself.

it’s ok for me to say “no” sometimes.

obviously not this guy…

mom is here. jackson is taken care of, NOT BY ME. (((deep cleansing breath)))

this is the second time i have been given this gift… this glorious gift of TIME to “work” (meaning making a dent in my inbox, catching up on my favorite blogs, working on my book proposal… working on the ACTUAL BOOK that i am pitching)… ya know, “work.”

i set out with a smile on my face, my macbook and earphones and await the glory of the coffee that will come once i find the RIGHT SPOT to plant myself for a few hours and “work.”

arriving at whole foods, i pay for my dark chocolate skim mocha and find my spot… near an outlet to plug in my laptop.

i settle myself. snag an extra chair for my oversized, underpriced purse from target that doubles as my diaper bag and today, my laptop bag. i plug in, log on to the wifi network, take my first sip of my beverage and breathe.

the last week + has been particularly stressful and ridden with anxiety that i cannot go into detail about in this forum. needless to say, having this break, this breath of caffeinated air, this TIME ALONE with just me and my computer is priceless.

i check in with some twitter friends who i haven’t communicated with in (HOLY SHIT) 24 hours because my mom has arrived and i was busying myself snuggling with her as though i was the one nearly turning 2 years old and not my son.

and as i check in with my twitter friends, two women take seats nearby… close to my spot.

you see, i’m sitting at a bar, looking out a window… a lengthy bar that offers a plethora of seats for people to enjoy coffee, delicious food and good company.

one woman is telling the other about her latest “fuck buddy” and how her age (46) has caused him to leave her and now she is angry… like REALLY ANGRY just relaying this story to her friend.

she bangs her fist on the bar. multiple times. continuing to talk with her hands, she then explains the moment of him leaving her apartment and hits, bumps, slaps the bar repeatedly.

at first i feel badly for this woman. she’s obviously distraught and confiding in a friend. but then i notice that others around me are starting to notice her. it’s not just me acknowledging her behavior… hearing pieces of a conversation that (in my opinion) should be taking place behind closed doors, on a couch with your friend and a bottle of wine.

she hits the table again.

“i told him ‘that’s it!’” she exclaims.

and now i’m irritated. so, like any good blogger who is attempting to make headway through their inbox while also on twitter, i begin tweeting about her.

so the earphones are in and the music is blaring and i decide that my inbox and any sort of REAL THOUGHT will have to be put on hold until this woman is gone because NO ONE AROUND HER can focus on anything but her ranting.

i look for other seats… no other outlets are available. i need an outlet because my battery is low… not too terribly low, but low enough for me to not risk moving my seat.

i stay. i decide to blog about her. just to rid myself of this angst and document this experience of THE ONE DAMN TIME I GET OUT TO HAVE COFFEE AND COMPUTER TIME IN PUBLIC…

pink is blaring gloriously in my ears… “child be still…”

I’M TRYING!!!! I’M REALLY TRYING!!!!!

there’s a tap on my shoulder. i’m jarred from my writing. i turn and meet the face of an older woman who is already mid-sentence with me. obviously i cannot hear her because MY EARPHONES ARE STILL IN MY EARS, yet she is talking to me.

i mute my itunes, pull out an earphone and turn in my seat to face her.

OLDER WOMAN: (points at my laptop) “is this one of those little laptops, like the small ones?”

ME: “um… well, it’s a macbook, but i’m pretty sure there are smaller ones out there. are you shopping specifically for a mac?” like i give a fuck.

OLDER WOMAN: “i don’t know, but i know there’s a smaller one and i didn’t know if this is the smallest there is or if there are smaller or what you would recommend?”

ME: (thinking to myself… do i look like i fucking work at best buy?) “honestly, it probably all depends on what you would be using it for. i would suggest researching one that is not only the size you want but offers the programs and applications that you would use the most.”

she pats my shoulder, points over to her husband whose standing 10 or so feet away with their coffees, waiting for her and probably burning the palms of his hands while holding their coffee.

OLDER WOMAN: (points at my macbook) “i think we can get smaller than this…”

she walks away.

and then i tweet this.

lesson learned… just stay at home, lock myself in my bedroom and put in earplugs. i may live a solitary existence for the remainder of my life and never again enjoy the glorious splendor of a dark chocolate skim mocha from whole foods, but at least i’ll get some peace… til the magoo awakes.

cuz i almost lost mine this morning. yes, my cooter came THIS CLOSE to dying a horrific and blistering death this morning thanks to scalding hot coffee and sleep deprivation.

if you saw my tweets this morning, you may have experienced the aftermath of my near-cooter-demise…

mind you, i am not currently covered in lower abdominal boils, nor are there any pinkish, tender areas of said cooter region… but HOLY CRAP YA’LL it was traumatizing, and most definitely NOT how one wants to wake up in the morning, especially a monday morning.

because, mondays suck. no matter what takes place during your day… if it’s a monday, it sucks. sorry, but it just does.

if the week began on a tuesday, tuesdays would suck. alas, it begins on a monday, thus mondays suck.

back to my cooter…

i’m lucky enough to have one of those fantastically hot husbands who gets up before i do in the morning and brings me coffee in bed. ((((swoon)))) i know, and i love every second of it, especially when he brings me a dark chocolate covered biscotti along with the coffee.

paul knows i need AT LEAST one cup of coffee running through my veins before i can begin to contemplate my day with the magoo. on special occasions, like president’s day, or mondays when paul needs to get to work early because he has a class to teach at 7:55, he’ll add not one BUT TWO shots off espresso to my coffee.

a friend of ours once told us this coffee beverage is referred to as a “hammer head,” but we prefer to be crude about it and create out own names using both the words “hammer” and “head” on an individual basis in order to create such inappropriate names.

it’s fun.

so, this morning, paul gets up with his alarm… he shaves… and then proceeds to make my “jack hammer” out in the kitchen while i continue to sleep peacefully. he places the delicious beverage on my nightstand along with a dark chocolate covered biscotti, and then wakes me up…

BY SHAKING ME VIOLENTLY BECAUSE OTHERWISE NO ONE WILL BE ABLE TO WAKE ME FROM MY SLUMBER!!!

once paul sees me adjust myself from the position of fully laying down to sitting somewhat upright and sipping my coffee, he goes to the bathroom to shower and continue his morning routine.

little did he know that i would fall back to sleep while sitting up…

AND SPILL FUCKING COFFEE WITH FUCKING ESPRESSO ON MY FUCKING COOTER!!!

i mean for christ’s sake, i close my eyes for ONE SECOND and the coffee mug goes…

give me a break!!!

so my lower abdomen that houses my c-section scar, thereby giving me two bellies, is scalded through my tshirt. and then i raise the tshirt and see BELOW…

and the underpants (don’t worry, they were boy-shorts, not granny panties) were soaked…

my cooter was MAGENTA with fury.

i lept out of bed, but this of course meant that i spilled that much more of my “head jack” on the bed, wasting that much more of the lusciously caffeinated beverage and soaking our sheets.

the now 1/4 cup mug of coffee is placed on my nightstand, the dark chocolate biscotti still awaits tantalizing my taste buds, and i disrobe. i strip down, leaving my coffee-soaked tshirt and underpants on the sheets and light blanket that have been covered in the “jack hammer” that paul made for me to enjoy.

i knock on the bathroom door. paul opens it.

HIM: “hey.”

ME: “move over. i spilled the fuckin coffee and i’m soaked.”

HIM: “that sucks.”

ME: “no shit. move over.”

HIM: “are you hurt?”

ME: “well, it didn’t feel good.” (then showing him my MAGENTA pink abdomen)

HIM: “dang.”

ME: “yeah, thanks. shampoo please.”

and thus began my monday… how was yours???