I love coffee. Goodness gracious, I love coffee. Life without the stuff is a bleak, howling wilderness, wrought with perils and tribulations and people biting other people’s heads off. However, with coffee, how the world changes. Awkward conversations are made a little less awkward when you have something hot to hold. Mornings are a little less dreadful when there’s a hot, aromatic drink awaiting. Studying is made a little easier when there is caffeine to assist. Long afternoons at work are doable with an iced latte (or three) on your desk.
But even with all my love of coffee, I’m not a coffee snob, and this is why. Have you ever been out to coffee with someone when all they could talk about is whether or not this coffee has the exact level of acidity it should, and whether the foam is too thick or too thin, and if the coffee plants had the exact number of raindrops fall on them that they should have? That is the person I don’t want to be.
I don’t want to be so busy examining the many cups of joe I drink that I forget to just enjoy them. I don’t want to spend my time at all the coffee shops (except that particular one where the beans were raised by Tibetan monks with 3.687 inch beards who daily bathed the plants with rosewater) thinking about how my coffee could be better than it is. I don’t want people to be afraid to make me coffee, thinking that they know how picky I am about it, and that I probably won’t like it.
After all, isn’t that a bit like expecting every meal to consist of caviar and foie gras? Those are all good and well, but sometimes, a person can enjoy rice and beans just as much. This isn’t to say that I don’t appreciate good coffee. I do, and I really don’t much enjoy trying to drink Folgers. But I would rather focus on the comfort of coffee, and the social enjoyment of sharing hot, foamy drinks, and the wonderful kick of mid-afternoon energy that it gives, than on always having the best of the best.
So here’s to love, and to coffee, and to loving coffee, but loving people more.
I realize that the title of this post is slightly misleading, as I am in fact saying hello, and not goodbye. But titles have never been my forte, as any of you that regularly read me (hello faithful little Rosie!) should know. Also, perhaps you should know that my good friend Merriam Webster says that sometimes cheerio can be used as a greeting, so don’t you judge me, don’t you dare judge me.
I have been busy doing many things. Blogging has not been one of those many things. However, I have spent considerable time having the following adventures:
Seeing The Biltmore Estate in all its glory. It…it was a real castle! I’m cereal!
Having an impromptu picnic on top of a parking deck. In our defense, the view was great up there, and I could yell things at the people below without them hearing.
Eating all the food in the world. Ethiopian. Indian. Mellow belly tea (I know that’s a drink, humor me). Pots de Creme. Homemade ice cream. Celery by the bundle. Cardboardy frozen pizza. An Earl Gray macaron. Applebees, where the waitress thought I was impatiently asking for my food, when all I wanted was a fork. FORK, NOT FOOD.
Staying in dinky hotels and hoping I don’t get bedbugs and watching cooking shows, because food.
Watering my lavender plant and hoping against hope that it won’t die. It’s looking a bit, well, crunchy.
Plugging in my headphones and loudly playing love songs on the piano to myself, so my roomie can’t judge me. Not that she would. But still.
Alternating between spraying on oodles of sunblock and burning myself. Happy mediums don’t seem to be my forte either.
Lying on the beach on a large, Moroccan style tapestry in a white dress, pretending I look picturesque, when really, I can barely keep my hat on my head for the wind.
Eating a sandy picnic on the beach. Hey, I’ll take my Brie and cookie butter however I can get them, endowed with sand or not.
Studying algebra. Wondering about the futility of this exercise. Avoiding studying algebra.
Sitting in my local coffee shop pretending I’m classy as I study fractions and drink grapefruit tea. Failing miserably when about a quarter of my cup of tea gets poured into my lap.
Seeing Charleston, SC for the first time, and stuffing my face with shrimp n grits and fried mac and cheese. Yes, that is a thing. Yes, it is exactly as delicious as it sounds.
Watching volleyball for many hours in the sun. Sometimes, when torn between two evils such as algebra and volleyball, you just gotta choose the lesser.
Getting scrapes on my leg from trying to start Philip’s moped, because I wanna drive it around so I can be all gangsta, yo.
Planning my friends’ futures for them. If you’d like to know yours, you can ask me, and I’ll be happy to let you know.
Wondering why I have a pink spot on one of my toenails.
Watching Emma and eating popcorn all by myself, because INTROVERTS UNITE! (separately in your own houses and don’t you touch my popcorn!)
Getting coffee spilled over my back and lap. This drink dumping stuff seems to be a recurring problem.
Dreaming about living in NYC, and looking up apartments and reading articles about the pros and cons of the city, even though we both know I can’t move there quite yet. But a girl can dream, ey?
Trying henna in my hair, because nobody told me how hard it would be to wash out! Also, all those places that say hair henna doesn’t stain skin, don’t believe them. You’re welcome.
So, as you can see, how could I have written to you all during all that drama? How, I say? But I’ll be back someday, we hope. For now, off to study algebra and spill drinks on myself. Toodle-oo.