Preparation

I think one of the great things about being married to Tim is that I have gained a handle on preparation.

I didn't own any snow boots until he came into the picture. Actually, not until now. Six years in Chicago awful winters, and I never wore snow boots.

Each day at the office, I'd get low blood sugar and start shaking, barely making it home before I collapsed, face-down into a pile of cheese and crackers. It wasn't until we explored the South Beach diet that I was able to control that, and arrive home each night not feeling like death.

Now I don't leave the house without an energy bar (homemade), a nail file, hand lotion, and enough layers to deal with whatever the weather throws at me.

I make granola a few times a month so we have breakfast (and snack food for when the low blood sugar sneaks up on us). Our cabinets are stuffed full of canned vegetables and falafel mix, so if we come home without an idea for dinner, we don't have to go out.

Preparation has bought me a great deal of calm, and I love it.

Content

Katie and Hannah came over for brunch this morning, and it was just lovely. Good food (roasted garlic and red pepper quiche, and raspberry cream cheese coffeecake), good friends, good weather (68 and sunny!) . . . There is nothing better.

Tim and I decided we couldn't do as much entertaining as we used to in Alabama, because it got expensive (of course, I would often go overboard with it all), but I think even if we can't afford to go out to eat, we still can afford to have people over. My home is finally cozy and cute, and I love to share that.

And there's no better way to start a morning than with people you love. (Of course, an even better way to continue the day would be to lay around with them and watch cheesy teen movies, but I do have to study.)

Coffee

One of my coworkers won a gift card to Starbucks in a monthly birthday giveaway, and since her preference is sweet tea to coffee, she gave it to me.

I'm not a coffee drinker, though I'd like to be. As a former Starbucks employee, Tim knows his way around a bean, though, so I let him use the card to purchase a half pound. His choice was Yukon blend. The name means nothing to me, but when he opened the bag and poured in a few tablespoons into our French Press, I stuck my nose into the glass and breathed in heaven. Just the smell itself sloughed off the stress and strain of the day, and evaporated whatever tears of frustration (of "Oh my god. I still have 8.5 more weeks at work." Yes, my countdown is down to weeks, and soon, days.) were still lurking behind my lids.

I was transported back to Unicorn Cafe, age 22, and everything that time encompassed. All the newness of Chicago and a new cafe where I worked to make friends. It reminds me of smokey coffeehouses with open mic poetry readings and intense conversations.

With milk and vanilla honey, it was like silk on my tongue. I have always had fantasies about waking up in the morning, putting on the kettle for coffee, then lingering over breakfast with a mug. It doesn't quite fit into my view of life that I consistently wake up 9 minutes later than I should, and race around getting ready and hoping I'm not late to work. And somehow relaxing over breakfast/coffee/newspaper on the weekends isn't such a treat, because it doesn't feel like a special stolen moment the way it would during the week.

I think, though, that if I drank coffee every day, it wouldn't be such a special, ritualized treat for me. Maybe it should stay that way.

Wine. Herbal cigarettes. French hiphop. Good night.

I think my favorite drinking takes place by myself on our porch on a beautiful spring night, a glass of wine in one hand, a (legal) herbal cigarette in the other hand, and MC Solaar's "Prose Combat" album on the stereo.

It's a great way to center the moment and brush aside the earlier stress of the week, let everything blur, and melt into the music.