Liquid Death

I have a love hate relationship with coffee. I love it, it hates me.  Don't get me wrong, it loves me for the first couple of hours, then it helps me to channel Joan Crawford in the afternoons.  I love the taste, the smell, the expierience of it.  I love the froth.  I love the steam.  I love the warmth. I love the creamy sugariness.  I love the cardboard cups with the plastic lids that are almost single handedly destroying the environment.  I love good coffee.  The kind of coffee made by real baristas who make lovely designs with the froth.



I don't love coffee made by baristas who just got done writing their Animal Farm book report and are now making my coffee.   I don't love that bitter metallic taste in my mouth after I have had 2-3 coffees and no food.  No food because, I have no appetite.  That in it self is almost sacrilege.   I don't love that jittery sweaty feel I get when I get a coffee that is too strong.  I don't like that as I have gotten older, sometimes milk doesn't sit so well in my tummy.  Mix all that with sugar...I am Mommy Dearest by noon.

So I drink Earl Gray Tea these days, just like a crusty old lady.  Add a little honey and lemon, and I am in heaven.  I still get the energy, the warmth, the sweetness, but no jitters.   Unless I drink 5 cups...thats the limit.  Trust me.

I miss my coffee though, and I still indulge now and again.  And I love it even more because I only have it sometimes.  Even that's a little dangerous for me however. I am not known for moderation.  In fact, one might say that is the quality that I grapple with the most.  Like I have stated earlier in my blog, once I get started with something I am consumed.  Earlier in the week I made meatloaf, it was so good I was going to make another one the next night.  My husband stopped me.

So all things in moderation right?  What the hell kind of fun is that?

I would love to say that the work I do is spurred on by pure inspiration and creativey and a burning desire to have and keep a wonderful, beautiful, clean home.  But dang it all if I don't need some help some times.  Sometimes I need Mothers Little Helper, caffeine.  Sometimes I need it in spite of the inspiration, the creativity and the clean home thing.

If only I could know my own limits.  Again though, what the hell kind of fun would that be?

So I am working today, cold turkey. I'm out of my beloved Earl Gray, and unwilling to put myself through the emotional turmoil that my husband Marcus' brewed espresso puts me through.  He drinks his black, no sugar, no milk, just three straight shots.  I call it liquid death.  "Liquid Death this morning honey?" Good thing he has a sense of humor.  He could never have survived me this long without one.

So think of me this morning as you drink your liquid death, and then have another in honor of my loss.

Here's to hoping my work today doesn't end up looking like this...

And aiming for something more like this.