Coffee Mishap

I just poured hot water into my French press. The problem? I forgot to put coffee grounds in the bottom. It's only 8:30 a.m. and I have a feeling it's going to be a looooooong day.

Vocation

The other day I told Joe I sometimes envied his descriptions of early morning coffee in his office with co-workers discussing theology, politics and the law. I lamented that I filled my head with useless bits of information like which kids don't like cheese on their ham sandwiches and how much milk to pour at mealtime because one child or another never drinks more than half a glass. I grumbled that those were the bits of information filling my head instead of big, important things like legal arguments heard at the state supreme court level that could change the landscape of Wisconsin law.

There was a time in my life, not so very long ago, that I got up in the morning, got dressed in clothes that weren't covered in spit-up stains nor did they have elastic waistbands (don't judge; sweatpants are very appealing some mornings). I went into an office, talked to other adults and worked on things pertaining to what is still today one of my favorite topics to think and talk about: politics. I did that happily for a time. It was invigorating and exciting and it kept me on my toes mentally.

And Joe didn't even think twice about how to respond to my whining. "But Cate," he said, "that's the information you need to have to be good at your job."

And he's right. And in that moment I remembered every moment I worked all those years ago that I didn't want to after I had Madeleine. I remembered every morning that I dropped Madeleine off somewhere and missing her. Every evening that I arrived home with a tired, crabby baby and yet still had dinner to cook and laundry to wash and a house to clean flashed through my head as if it were yesterday. No, I have never seriously questioned my vocation; I'm doing what I want to be doing.

So, during this season of my life I will fill my head with the details that will make me better at my job. I will still whine, occasionally, about people I meet who seem to think I have nothing else to talk about. If someone assumes I am incapable of talking about things other than my daily life than that's their fault for not probing, not mine; I'm quite conversant in any number of subjects.

But still, as this morning's coffee was coupled with a yelling nine-year-old and a crying baby, I still wish that-- just sometimes--I could sit in Joe's office for one, quiet cup of coffee.

French Press

I'm back to using a French press. I was given one eons ago, way back when we still lived in Janesville and Joe was in law school and I was working full-time. I never used it. I was an exhausted new mother of one and I preferred to mainline coffee in the fastest, easiest way possible, and that way was never a French press.

It was purged at some point between Janesville and Milwaukee.

Lately though, I think my taste buds are changing. I do love waking up to the smell of freshly brewed coffee, but lately I've been able to pick up hints of that awful this-pot-has-been-on-the-burner-too-long taste, even when it has only been sitting for thirty minutes or so. And that second cup of coffee? Blech. By the time my first cup is gone, the second cup definitely has that somewhat burned, yucky flavor.

So, with some of my birthday gift certificate* (again, thanks Bob and Alex; I'm still using it!) I bought another Bodum French press. It's a small one (32 ounces, I think?), but it's perfect for me during the week and even ideal for Joe and me on the weekends when we both have a tendency to drink too much coffee without some policing.

I wish it could be instantly made when I wake up, but the difference in taste is worth the wait.



*By the way, my other splurge was for a new, larger electric frying pan that I love, love, love-- so thank you!

Task Mug

Isn't the whole point of a cup of coffee in the morning, besides the caffeine jolt, of course, to have some some time to sit and sip and wake-up slowly and peacefully? To me the taste and smell is so rejuvenating, so energizing and so relaxing that a to-do list glaring back at me from (on!) my morning mug would ruin everything for me. Will this be a hot seller?

First Soccer Game

I the suburb we live in, soccer is a way of life. Every soccer playing family (which has to be most of our community) has their Saturdays taken up with driving all over the village for various games with their various kids. The thought of giving up a perfectly good Saturday to watch kids play soccer has never appealed to me and, so, I never pressured Madeleine to rethink her decision to not play soccer after she decided she didn't want to. In past years I've patted myself on the back for this decision as I would sit in my living room on Saturday mornings while leisurely sipping my coffee and watching neighbors load their soccer playing kids into their minivans and station wagons and head off to various soccer fields around our town.

Well, Hank isn't Madeleine and Hank wants to play soccer. A lot. What was I supposed to do, say no because relaxing with coffee is more important? So today we loaded up our own minivan with our own various children and headed off to a soccer field in our town for a 9 a.m. game.

Here is Hank before we left. See the mile-wide grin? Hank has been asking since his practice Wednesday evening how many days until his game. The querying has been constant; Saturday morning couldn't come soon enough for the little bugger.

Once there, Hanker couldn't wait to get on the field and start playing. Here he is in action.

In Hank's league of Kindergardeners no score is kept, but Hank was well aware that he scored two goals for his team and he was quite proud of himself.

And the girls? They made a new friend and organized their own soccer game on the sidelines. OK, no. Madeleine's not exactly a sporty girl, so she didn't exactly play, but she did coach the little girls.

And my coffee? Eh, don't worry about me. I have a travel mug.

Waking Up

Is there any better way to wake up then when a sunny, cloudless spring day coupled with the smell of freshly brewed coffee greets you following a solid, eight-hour night of sleep?  

Most Caffeinated Cities

Which U.S. city would you guess was the most addicted to caffeine? I would have guessed New York. I would have been wrong.

Chicagoans eat more chocolate and drink more cola than other U.S. urbanites, and are among the top consumers of energy drinks and coffee.

Tampa, Miami, Phoenix and Atlanta rounded out the top five most caffeinated cities, while residents of San Francisco, Philadelphia, New York, Detroit and Baltimore consumed the least caffeine.

New Links

For those of you not paying as close attention to my sidebar as I do, let me highlight a few recently added websites that I think are worth paying a visit.

1. The Grammar Vandal. This blog is highly enjoyable. It's witty, interesting and educational. How can you top that? It has, however, made me incredibly self-conscious when composing my own blogs. Please, please, Grammar Vandal, don't examine my blog too closely; I'm certain there are mistakes aplenty!

2. Delocator. Enter your zip code and this website will help you find locally owned coffee shops, bookstores and movie theaters. Hey, I like Starbucks just as much as the next girl but I love my local coffee house more, and always like to encourage local entrepreneurs.

3. Mathematically Correct. Lots of essays and links relating to the "new, new math" used in many (most?) school districts across the country. This type of math curriculum, which our local public school uses, was probably the catalyst for encouraging us to investigate other schooling options which eventually led to our decision to home school.

A Bottle of Java

Some people might say I get a little crazy in the morning before getting my first cup of coffee. Mowing down anyone who might dare to get in my way, I race down to my Black and Decker as quickly as humanly possible. And until I've had that first sip it's better just not to mess with me.

It's because of my coffee madness that I started giving Elisabeth a bottle of milk in the morning. Quiet! I would say to myself as Elisabeth chased me around the kitchen yelling, "Up, up, UP!!!!" You can't blame her, really, it's not like she understands about the importance of caffeine. So, I gave her a bottle once or twice. It made her happy and, more importantly, it made her quiet and content for ten minutes.

But now it appears genetics have taken over and Elisabeth has become somewhat, um, manic about the morning bottle. Gee, I wonder where she gets it from?

Do you see the bottle I've just poured up there? She wants it now, darn it! I feel your pain, Elisabeth. Brew, coffee, BREW!


This isn't funny, Mom! Stop taking my picture and give me the stinkin' bottle!

Ah, heaven. That first sip of coffee... er, I mean milk.


I may not be able to stomp my foot and cry like a one-and-a-half-year-old toddler, but sometimes I sure want to.

No Blogging

There will be no blogging today. Well, unless you count this post, which I guess you should since it's here. So there will be no blogging today after this post. But wait, that doesn't make any sense either since as a matter of course I usually post no more than once a day.

My small readership made up mostly of friends and family (though I welcome anyone who might be interested) might ask me why. Well, I'm simply not in the mood. I have nowhere interesting on the Internet to send you and nothing interesting to tell you.

Unless I talk about the fender bender I had this morning which was, pathetically, all my fault and, to be perfectly honest, quite embarrassing. So, no, I don't want to talk about that (though I will calm any fears: everyone is perfectly fine; all that is bruised is my ego).

Coffee. Yes, that's what I need to improve my mood and spirits. Coffee and a four year old son who listens. Hmmm. I guess the coffee will have to suffice.

It's Baaaa-ack

Starbucks has re-introduced its most tempting, delicious drink ever: the Cinnamon Dolce Latte. I got hooked on them at about this time last year and then, mercifully, Starbucks took them off the menu and both my trips to Starbucks and waistline decreased.

I didn't know whether to jump for joy when I pulled up to the drive-thru menu this morning or step on the gas and drive far, far away. But, thankfully (or maybe not...) there was a white van in front of me and a black SUV behind me, sandwiching me, trapping me in the drive-thru lane.

So now I know they're there. And for a limited time. I'm doomed.

Coffee, Six-Year-Old Style

Look who joined Joe and me for our morning coffee!

Madeleine ended up in bed with us for about half the night so when we woke for our routine morning coffee (usually sans kids) Madeleine got up with us.

She is well aware of the wonders of coffee and foamy milk and, being so informed, appreciates a warm mug of foamy milk.

Although it was well earlier than her usual rising time, Madeleine snuggled in on the sofa with Joe and me, drank her foamy milk and chattered on ceaselessly about school, friends and whatever else came into her head.

Coffee

I love coffee. Not in a coffee press, slow-roasted, organic coffee bean sort of way, although I appreciate all of those things. No, I love coffee in such a way that is more about the caffeine content than the flavor. Don’t get me wrong; I won’t tolerate bad coffee. Instant coffee is useless (unless using it for baking) and most cheap brands earn a nose crinkle from me on a taste test.


I was raised using a coffee press. My mom maintained the coffee was better. I think she was right, but I’m not that much of a coffee connoisseur. I don’t use one; it’s too much work for me. I use a cheap-o, regular automatic, drip coffee maker. Why? I can set a timer. I wake up in the morning to that sweet, pungent smell of freshly brewed coffee and in those wee hours of the dawn that smell, coupled with the quiet of the house before it awakens, is sheer heaven on earth.

All coffee lovers need this, a milk frother.

Adding about a third to a half of a cup of foamy milk, after it’s been heated in the microwave, is as close to Starbucks as you’ll get at home. The milk ends up quite stiff and frothy and it mixes with the coffee so perfectly that the first sip is always a reminder of how perfect, or close to perfect, an excellent cup of coffee can taste.