I keep the good stuff in that vintage coffee can on the bottom shelf, whole bean Abianno espresso from Sweetwaters. I grind it up fresh, very fine.
I knock yesterday's grounds into my compost canister beside the sink. (When it fills, I'll bring it to the compost heap across the way on the garden plot.)
Then I rinse off my Moka, pouring out setting aside the leftovers of yesterday's coffee, maybe for a chocolate cake.
And then I put the fresh coffee on to percolate in the Moka. (This Moka was actually a parting gift from Suzi when I moved out to the country. She bought it in Paris when she was living there. I had used it nearly every day when we were living together in Ann Arbor, since my own had gotten lost in the move from Austin. Suzi, I'm eternally grateful!)
I grab some whole organic milk from the fridge, and warm it on the other burner.
I'm enjoying my sunflowers while the coffee is brewing.
When the coffee has percolated, I whisk the milk until it's all foamy, pour it into a mug (I've had that silly hippie mug with the heart-shaped strawberries and and psychedelic snails since Santa Cruz). First cup is half milk, half coffee. I top it with freshly ground nutmeg. The nutmeg grinder is old enough that it actually says Made in W.-Germany on it.
A glance out the kitchen window: a beautiful day here! (Hanging in the window, there's the evil eye Seda gave me as a housewarming gift in Austin when I moved into my cottage there by the University of Texas campus.)
On other days, we might go into the living room to bask in the bright gorgeous sunlight . . .
(Ba and Marta & Liles might remember that photo of us and Ross from Otis Street on my college graduation day, which I keep framed in my living room to remind me of times when I was surrounded with friends . . .)
And we might sit on the expansive couch there. . .
Or maybe settle in at the table overlooking the water. . . (yeah, never mind that table cloth hiding on the floor. I use it to cover my TV set sometimes, when I'm not overactively using my DVD player and hiding out on the loveseat in the corner there watching romantic comedies.)
But, instead, today, I take one quick detour to my bedroom to open up the vertical blinds to let in the light . . .
(Oh, look, Mom, there's the Wheel of Life thangka I bought in Himachal Pradesh!)
(And here's the vanity table I was telling you about. . .)
Yeah, yeah, okay. So the light is streaming in, and we're finishing the daytime tour, and now it's time for me to settle down in the office, with coffee cup number two, to do some writing.
So, then, um, where *are* those papers from Qualitative Methods, anyway? I took the course only about a year and a half ago. . . .
Not here; this is where I sort junk like jars of foreign change. . .
Obviously, not here -- this is my laundry corner. I'm closing up that folding door now to hide the stacked units.
Apparently, not here, though I keep lots of old papers from past courses in this little corner of drawer-style bins, and I see some files from classes from that same semester. . .
Yes, yes, I remember -- these are all my deadlines and projects that need my attention . . .
Oh, apparently they were in the very first spot I looked, all squeezed into that brown & white floral IKEA box, now unpacked and sitting on my desk in piles, ready to be read and digested . . . So, I'd better get started with that! You can see that my office, too, is wonderfully flooded with light.
