Milk, No Sugar

Mug Love.

Even on the roam, crashing on couches, 

and living out of a suitcase...

my own coffee cup is in tow.

I'm picky, and it's rare when a mug

"speaks to me"

not just by it's aesthetic--though that does matter. 

I test it, see how it weighs on my wrist, how comfortable the handle is and so on.  

This weeding process is crucial because once a new mug comes into my life, 

I'm in a monogamous mug-relationship. 

Everyday. Each morning. The same one.

Something that can easily last a few years, if not longer! 

This quirky behavior of mine hasn't changed since...well...

when I first began drinking coffee on a daily basis. 

Given, I've picked up a few others along the way.

You know...during those "nesting" periods at a new homestead, 

when you feel the pressure to fill those empty cabinets...

For all those guests I entertain, right? 

pssshhhh!

Those few "non-special" cups sit dusty and unused in the back of the cupboard.

Although, if a guest does come over for coffee, 

I never serve them coffee in one of my "special" cups!

Goodness, no.  

We would have a direct case from

Indiana Jones and the Last Crusade...on our hands.

If someone were to drink from one of my "chosen" mugs, 

they'll perish right before my very eyes. And nobody would want that to happen!

Now, to the shocking number of Mugs in my life

over the past decade....

Three.

Even saying this number aloud shocks me! 

Sheesh, maybe I should shop around more?!

Anyhoo, on this most recent vagabond chapter in my life, 

I had to leave my current crush behind in a storage unit.

sad, I know.

While any cup serves fine...

 The ritual of coffee is that much better 

with one that's "special" 

So, the other day I went rummaging at our local thrift shop. 

Replaying "Choose Wisely" in my noggin', 

if by chance I were to discover my next

"Holy Grail"

One immediately caught my eye.

It passed each test with flying colors. 

But, I chose to ignore my personal oddity and

save the measly four dollars. 

I was inevitably filled with remorse. 

The very next day I hurried back to the shop, eagerly searching for 

MY mug, hoping that no one else had snagged it...

It was there. 

I purchased the handmade delight. 

And introduced myself to number four, 

with a pipping hot cup of Chai. 

I never said I was normal.