Feet on the floor, a glance at the clock, and I stumble down the hall to meet the day.
(Stealing a bit from Kris Kristofferson there.)
Punch the button on the coffee maker, head for the bathroom, make a U-turn back to the kitchen, reach for a cup, head for the computer with dawn just barely touching the patio.
A cup of coffee ...
I grope for my favorite cup (don’t we all have a favorite cup?), which is usually sitting on the second shelf behind the cabinet door to the left of the sink. It is a paler shade of tan, has a simple handle, and wouldn’t be noticed in a tank of goldfish. It’s that bland.
It’s not that I don’t have choices. Truth is (I’m probably going to get killed for this) we have enough coffee cups to put one in every single household in Colombia, which is where they grow coffee beans.
No, coffee cups are not exactly a passion with the blonde, but dishes are. And most dishes come with matching coffee cups, all the way from my “blandie” to cups fit for Buckingham Palace.
We’ve got green ones, we’ve got blue ones, we’ve got yellow ones, we’ve even got one cup that is a “zoo.” It is huge cup, holds twice what a normal cup holds, and has weird faces of wild beasts that look like something the devil himself might keep around as pets.
The cup legend reads San Diego Wild Animal Park and a handle that nicely fits the paw of man, but not of delicate woman. An inscription on the handle reads Heart of Africa.
I’ve been to the San Diego Wild Animal Park (got kissed by a giraffe there), so I know where that one comes from. The remainder of our coffee galaxy, well, I haven’t the faintest. All I know is they came here off the blonde’s forays into the china shops of America, new and used.
Before my paler shade of tan came (haven’t the faintest), my favorite cup(s) was also a paler shade of tan, but had an orange stripe around the top. Three are left. Over the years I have managed to eliminate five others.
I still use one when my paler shade is not where it’s supposed to be.
There are also two groupings of four that are blue-and-white. One has a pot belly, the other is a non-pot. Those are the ones the blonde uses.
But in my moments of remembrances I still mourn the demise of the cups we had when we first married.
The dishes were (are) called “Desert Swirl” and they were just that; a swirl of pinkish-brownish whatever which, I assume, is remindful of, well, a desert.
We still have a few of the plates and saucers, but the cups left this world a long time ago. I’m pretty sure I am the one at fault. For a guy with great hands, I’ve dropped a lot of “stuff” over the years, including all the Desert Swirl coffee cups.
And that’s about all there is to this little story except for two cups I brought home from Aunt Vern’s up in Ohio.
Both are lovely, sort of middling brown. One has a leopard on it, the other a gazelle. The legend on the bottom of each cup reads: Chase … African Portraits. There is also the claim the cups are “Decorated With 24 karat gold” and are designed by Lynn Chase.
I haven’t the faintest who Lynn Chase is (was?), but I found my mugs on eBay. The asking price was $88.99 for the pair, a $90 bill anyway you look at it.
So, you’ll have to excuse me, if you please.
I’m headed for the China cabinet (the one with the lock) with my inheritance from Aunt Vern. Then I’m going to find that old beat-up tin measuring cup the blonde has around here somewhere.
Then I’m going to have a cup of coffee to start the day …
George Smith can be reached at 256-239-5286 or email: firstname.lastname@example.org