I’m not talking to Mike or even the kids. No. I’m talking to my coffee.
And I’m not even exaggerating. I love my morning cup of coffee with milk, no sugar. It is a sincere, profound, need-based love that I treasure and celebrate every single day.
My coffee loves me to. I can tell by the way it wafts into my eager nostrils, and the way it warms my mouth and belly as the caffeine washes up to my brain erasing the cobwebs and clutter that linger from my night’s sleep. Thank you, coffee. Thank you. I love you.
I can’t drink more than two cups each morning. Too much caffeine makes Michelle jittery and has the “Marcia Brady” effect whereby I start signing up for too many volunteer assignments (come to think of it, this may have something to my recent two year stint as PTA President, but I digress…)
I don’t eat a thing until at least the first half of a cup has had a chance to permeate my cells. Nothing can get in the way of my completely socially acceptable morning addiction.
As I grip–notice the way my hand tenderly yet firmly embraces this warm cup of happy–and raise the mug to my smiling lips, I know that at the very least, the next 3 minutes are going to be A-OK.
p.s. Check me out on Hometown Pasadena all week! The Mangiamo section features my fab (and easy) recipe for summer fruit crisp!