A Love Affair with a Coffee Cup
In the spirit of opening Christmas gifts early . . . an old friend was good enough to visit last week, and she brought me the small red Starbucks coffee cup . . . which I now love in entirely unholy ways (although my unholy love for my new laptop leaves little room for new unholy loves). Still, the red coffee cup has worked its way into the room.
It's microwave and dishwasher safe (which most of the "cute" cups I've purchased from Target turned out to be handwash only . . . . grrrrrrr) . . . and it has a little indented around the rim, which doesn't make a difference until you take your first sip - and you realize the coffee cup is hugging your lip.
I love my new cup. Love it, love it, love it. (Thank you, R.!!!)
Starbucks has certainly cornered comfort coffee. Everything from the whipped cream, high carb, soothing music arena to the ergonomic and sensual coffee cup lip . . . . I might have to see if I can find a few more of these "seasonal" red cups before they leave.
In other news . . . Christmas shopping is now 80% done. (YAY!)
Novel writing has been put on pause while I deal with Holidays and actually reading the manuscript so I stay consistent (::cough cough:: Must . . . keep . . . writing novel . . .).
Knitting. Hmm . . . found a great deal on a beginning knitting book and needles at Michael's ($5 for all). Need to make time to meet up with S. for knitting instruction . . . and then additional time to actually . . . um . . . knit.
Nihongo . . . a note which deserves a moment of celebration . . . our informal Japanese study group is about to graduate from the first textbook. HUZZAH!!! Everyone is fairly capable of reading hiragana (which is an amazing accomplishment and the number one thing that terrifies people about Japanese) - so I need to think of some fun activity to mark the occasion . . . hmmmmm.
And Alyssa, my ball-jointed doll (yes, I have a ball-jointed doll), suddenly began crying out for attention, reminding me that I do eventually want to work on a blog project that will be a combination ficitional story and photographic work. Unfortunately, this will also mean spending money on wigs and clothing. . . which is what has kept me from completing the project to begin with. ::Sigh::
No wonder I'm always wondering what eats up all my time!
----------------------------------
Sample of Alyssa Aside . . .
Note: This blog is being written from the perspective of "Mike" - a 24-year-old bachelor who lives in a small apartment.
I don't know much about the little doll that I brought home (and by doll, I mean a real doll - standing 8" high - and not your standard high maintenance blonde wearing a little too much rouge). I'm not even sure why I brought her home, except there is something very sweet about her face. She looks as if she has been waiting for someone . . . for a very very long time.
We were both a little uncomfortable. I mean, what exactly do you say to a living doll? But then she saw the plant on the right-hand side of my writing desk, and her face lit up.
"I just love plants," she said, gently touching a leaf. "Don't you?"
And for a second I actually hoped that I wasn't dreaming . . . that all the odd little things that had happened this day wouldn't fade. Forget how I was going to explain her to my friends an my family. For this moment in time, at least, she was here, and alive, and real.
It wasn't until later that I discovered she has an attitude.
It's microwave and dishwasher safe (which most of the "cute" cups I've purchased from Target turned out to be handwash only . . . . grrrrrrr) . . . and it has a little indented around the rim, which doesn't make a difference until you take your first sip - and you realize the coffee cup is hugging your lip.
I love my new cup. Love it, love it, love it. (Thank you, R.!!!)
Starbucks has certainly cornered comfort coffee. Everything from the whipped cream, high carb, soothing music arena to the ergonomic and sensual coffee cup lip . . . . I might have to see if I can find a few more of these "seasonal" red cups before they leave.
In other news . . . Christmas shopping is now 80% done. (YAY!)
Novel writing has been put on pause while I deal with Holidays and actually reading the manuscript so I stay consistent (::cough cough:: Must . . . keep . . . writing novel . . .).
Knitting. Hmm . . . found a great deal on a beginning knitting book and needles at Michael's ($5 for all). Need to make time to meet up with S. for knitting instruction . . . and then additional time to actually . . . um . . . knit.
Nihongo . . . a note which deserves a moment of celebration . . . our informal Japanese study group is about to graduate from the first textbook. HUZZAH!!! Everyone is fairly capable of reading hiragana (which is an amazing accomplishment and the number one thing that terrifies people about Japanese) - so I need to think of some fun activity to mark the occasion . . . hmmmmm.
And Alyssa, my ball-jointed doll (yes, I have a ball-jointed doll), suddenly began crying out for attention, reminding me that I do eventually want to work on a blog project that will be a combination ficitional story and photographic work. Unfortunately, this will also mean spending money on wigs and clothing. . . which is what has kept me from completing the project to begin with. ::Sigh::
No wonder I'm always wondering what eats up all my time!
----------------------------------
Sample of Alyssa Aside . . .
Note: This blog is being written from the perspective of "Mike" - a 24-year-old bachelor who lives in a small apartment.
I don't know much about the little doll that I brought home (and by doll, I mean a real doll - standing 8" high - and not your standard high maintenance blonde wearing a little too much rouge). I'm not even sure why I brought her home, except there is something very sweet about her face. She looks as if she has been waiting for someone . . . for a very very long time.
We were both a little uncomfortable. I mean, what exactly do you say to a living doll? But then she saw the plant on the right-hand side of my writing desk, and her face lit up.
"I just love plants," she said, gently touching a leaf. "Don't you?"
And for a second I actually hoped that I wasn't dreaming . . . that all the odd little things that had happened this day wouldn't fade. Forget how I was going to explain her to my friends an my family. For this moment in time, at least, she was here, and alive, and real.
It wasn't until later that I discovered she has an attitude.
posted by Andrea Peach | 9:35 PM
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