Yesterday I wrote about my paternal grandmother, and I got feedback about it from my mother. She was really surprised about the things I didn't know about that generation. I had to explain to her that I had a child's relationship with my grandmother the entire time I knew her, until she died when I was in my early 30s. We talked a little about the memories we had about her. My mom said she wondered whether that whole side of my family had a genuine coffee addiction, until she worked with a scientist who lived on a steady stream of the stuff, easily twice what my family drinks.
I am surprised it took me as long as it did to start drinking the go juice, considering my heritage. I still remember the very first time I tried it, stealing a sip from my uncle's cup of strong black coffee, that was extra bitter from the awful percolators that everyone used back then. I thought they were lunatics to like that horrible brew. I know they all laughed at my reaction. But the smell of coffee is so wonderful, I never minded when it was constantly present at every moment I spent with my dad's family. I drank tea instead, assuming I would never convert. I tried it once more my freshman year in college, but a bucket of sugar still wasn't enough to win me over to it. It took a strange set of circumstances to hook me in. When the girls were little, we started attending a church based on the man's fascination with its architecture, and his desire to explore it. After services, the younger daughter would disappear from our sides in the fellowship hall (that disappearing is a whole post of its own for another day), and come back with a cup of liquid that was probably 50% coffee, 30% cream, and 20% sugar. She would seriously vibrate on the drive home. Oh, the simple logic of a child. She showed me what was missing all along. I never tried coffee with cream. Since she showed me the way, I have slowly transitioned from drinking it in the same proportions as she, to phasing out the sugar gradually, until this last week, to stay in the good graces of my trainer buddy, I have omitted the sugar entirely. I feel so grown up.
When the girls were little, we tried so hard to find ways to talk over their heads, about things we either weren't sure we both wanted to get, or we didn't want to share. For example, while driving, we would ask each other whether it was a good time to obtain "frozen dairy product" (ice cream), "ground bean product" (chocolate), or anything else we could talk circles around. I think that worked for maybe a year or two, before the older one made it to second grade. There's always a down side to having smart kids with huge vocabularies. But we kept doing it, and to this day, we still sometimes offer each other things like "roasted bean elixir" (coffee).
Now that I have spent the last hour writing about it, thinking about it, I really want a big cup of sweet, blonde coffee. But I have to be able to get a full night's sleep ahead of a long day tomorrow. I must be strong. I must resist. This addiction runs in my family. Believe me, it is a powerful craving.
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