Thursday, May 17, 2007

Well, since everyone's doing it:

... posting photos of their coffee mugs, that is.

David, at the World's Fair, asks:

1. Can you show us your coffee cup?
2. Can you comment on it? Do you think it reflects on your personality?
3. Do you have any interesting anecdotes resulting from coffee cup commentary?
3. Can you try to get others to comment on it?

Well, #1, yes. #2, ditto. #3, not exactly. #3 (what, again?) That's up to the rest of you.I know: that's three mugs. One for the road, a small one and a large one for around home. Oldies, all.

I like old things; they have history behind them.

(And now my keyboard has gone stark raving mad, asasdasding lqwettqwerasd asnasd asdpaszxcqweasd no rqweasasdon. I think that's it for tonight. Unless I get this fixed. Anybody know how?
HQWELP!) (Edited, next morning; I think I've got this fixed. For now. Took it apart, shook it, blew on it, dusted it with a paintbrush, put it together. And it's working. Yay!)

Pardon the interruption; back to talking about coffee mugs.

I'm a follower of the 3 Rs; Reduce, Reuse, Recycle. But even better than recycling, is to Refrain from buying new when the old will function just as well (if not better, sometimes.) So, the 7-11 cup has been my companion since last century, 1995 or thereabouts. My son bought it for me, then to match his, now long since lost. It holds two cups of coffee, keeps it hot long enough, fits my car. What more could I ask?

The old "hotel-ware" cups are from the 1960s. They bring back memories of trips with the family, when Dad would drive through the night while Mom and my brothers slept. I never did, but sat behind him with my eyes on the road magically unfolding out of the dark. At some point, he would stop at a truck stop and we -- he and I -- would go in for coffee and hot chocolate. A strange, foreign world that was, with brassy waitresses and chatty truckers eating huge stacks of hotcakes, middle-of-the-night breakfasts. And me, the only girl; the only kid.

The cups were like these; thick, heavy, durable. They held the heat well; on a cold night, I would warm my hands on my cup in between sips of chocolate. I still do that, now with coffee, mainly.

1 comment:

  1. Anonymous12:58 pm

    Oh, I love your coffee mug story! Great story about traveling throught the night and diners with Dad. And I really, really love those old mugs - they are just beautiful. I, too, like old things; they cast a spell for me.

    ReplyDelete

I'm having to moderate all comments because Blogger seems to have a problem notifying me. Sorry about that. I will review them several times daily, though, until this issue is fixed.

Also, I have word verification on, because I found out that not only do I get spam without it, but it gets passed on to anyone commenting in that thread. Not cool!

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