I have had this cup for so many years. It looks like it would be hard to drink from but it’s not, although you do have to interact with it with intent and decisions about angles and lip placement. It’s not a cup you take for granted.
It was made by Anne Christiansen although I may have spelled her name wrong. She was kind of famous around here. People used to line up for her twice yearly sales and leave with big boxes of stuff and not because it was cheap. She was a very quiet, unassuming woman who always seemed surprised that anyone would really buy her pottery. She moved away to teach somewhere. I often wonder what kind of pottery she is making now. I also would like more of it, having broken all of her bowls and most of her cups over the years, as happens eventually to things that you use many times every day.
It could be a beautiful cup to drink my morning coffee from but I don’t. Drink coffee. Ever. Well, there was that once in college, but there were extenuating chemical circumstances . . .
I have always thought it was because my mom drank so much coffee that I turned against it. She would make a big pot in the morning and drink several cups a day. I don’t think my sister drinks coffee either. Really, I don’t like the taste of it, or even the smell. Lucky for me, then, Craig doesn’t drink it. In fact, he is slightly allergic to it.
All of my kids became coffee drinkers as teenagers. Probably because they thought it was some exotic beverage they never saw at home.
I’ve been told that I don’t drink coffee because I have immature taste!!? (Maybe that explains my childish love of chocolate.) One day a group of friends thought I should be drinking coffee and tried to stage an intervention, by making me order a latte. I played along and stirred the milk and coffee around and around the cup with the thin popsicle stick and warmed my hands around the cup. You know, just looking the part.
There is a coffee place a few blocks away that roasts their own coffee and at about 10pm the aroma wafts all over the neighborhood. Neighbors comment on the warm, friendly smell of the roasting beans. I don’t tell them that I shut my windows until the wind changes. It isn’t very popular to be anti-coffee, which I’m not, really.
I’m not a coffee curmudgeon. I go out for “coffee” with people all the time although I order herbal tea. I appreciate the smiley faces the barristas draw on the latte foam with chocolate. I enjoy the Italian names – the Frappiccinos and the Macchiatos and the Cappuccinos.
Most people I know depend on the caffeine to kick start their days or keep them moving through the afternoon. If I have any caffeine after 3pm I am awake till at least 3am.
So it is now 2:30 am and counting. I had some tea with a friend today after dinner and even though the restaurant listed the tea as non-caffeinated, I grew suspicious when it slowly occurred to me that my friend had not been able to insert a word other than “uh-huh” for the previous 10 minutes.
Can you imagine what I would be like with coffee?