Tag: coffee

I am one with the coffee, and the coffee is with me…

There is a certain ritual to the mornings, even now in the middle of this pandemic that has altered the way we live our lives. For me, that ritual includes an alarm at 6am, though I’m often awake well before that, a quick check of email on my phone (so I can be prepared for

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melancholy moments

I haven’t been writing much, obviously including here on my blog. I’ll be real honest and say that living has been hard recently. I have found myself feeling heavy and unmotivated. I know everyone is feeling it. Six months of living in crisis mode is wearing us all down. Then came the news that Ruth

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it’s all on fire

The state of California is on fire, and not just in the “usual” places. The thunderstorms last week were mostly dry, just thunder and lightning, and the lightning strikes hit the ground all around the Bay area, starting fires that are just burning through real estate. Beyond the danger of the fires themselves, there’s the

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pick a peck of pickled peppers

There are times when even an introvert agoraphobe needs some human connection, even if that comes in the form of socially distanced socializing. Yesterday I went up to my mother’s house for some of that human connection, and for an exchange of money for a monitor and home baked bread for some peppers harvested from

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a flower for your friday

This week has been an odd one. Yesterday did not feel like Thursday, in fact at one point I thought it was only Tuesday. On the other hand, I’ve gotten a lot done, and this morning I was half convinced it was Saturday when my alarm went off. Here in California we are locked back

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slow Sunday mornings

Is there anything better than a slow Sunday morning with coffee and cuddly kitties? I even managed a little bit of a sleep in. I mean, I was awake at 5:30am, but managed to hush my mouthy cat and go back to sleep for almost two hours. It was lovely. So much of life right

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to all the dads out there

A lot of people have complicated relationships with their fathers, and I think current political and health matters probably don’t really help in that arena. I have LGBTQ+ friends whose fathers have thrown them away, disowned them, told them to never come back. I have friends who had abusive fathers, drug addict fathers, fathers who

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black lives matter. period.

There seems to be a sense of expectation hanging in the air, at least here for me. Some of that is the fact that after months of unemployment, I will be starting not one new job on Monday, but two! I pretty much won’t have a life here for a while, but neither of them

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a plan for the day

There comes a point in every book where I want to chuck it all in and never write another word.  I start to question my plot. I start to think my characters are crap.  I become fairly certain that the whole thing is a steaming pile of garbage left to rot in the sun. Thankfully,

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