Weekend Coffee Share #17

February 28, 2016May 20, 2016 ~ Sahara ~ Leave a comment

If we were having coffee, we would be glad to walk into the warm coffee house. It’s colder outside today than normal! I remark when I see you push the hood off your head, shaking raindrops off. It is wintertime, but I have been so pleasantly surprised by how mild the winter has been, particularly since I’ve heard how nasty it is in the Mid-West. The Wee One and I were even able to go hiking this past week!

Speaking of hiking, a woman walks in pushing a double stroller with twin toddlers. They’re subdued under their blanket, but she still struggles getting the stroller through the front door and between the close small tables. Seeing them all makes me miss the Wee One, who had daddy-daughter time these days I go and write and have coffee with girlfriends.

Today when I left, he was skyping with his parents and showing off her standing up skills. She will position herself standing by something, and then let go, just to do it. She’s not showing off for us, she’s practicing and testing herself. I think she’s remarkable. All babies might do that, you point out; I don’t want to know! I exclaim. My daughter is the most extraordinary creature EVER! I say with a wink and a smile. Of course, you agree.

If we were having coffee, I tell you about talking to my best friend last night and how nervous she is about going on a first date with someone. Do you have first date horror stories? you ask me, and I make a face remembering it. There was one guy I met bicycling the MKT Trail outside of the Columbia, Missouri. We enjoyed talking and raced each other to the Katy trail. He was an Air Force vet and kind of cute, but I was getting more and more uncomfortable as we rode back in. He gave me his number (this was before cell phones) and I raced home reciting it to myself. I dialed the number when we got home, as I had promised I would, and asked for Gary. “Gary?” the guy who answered started laughing. “Who’s Gary? You mean Greg?” Ouch. That’s embarrassing and I hate being laughed at. Then Gary/Greg got on the phone, and it was so awkward and weird, I was happy when we hung up.

Etta James “At Last” comes over the speakers, and my heart clutches as it always does. We both stop talking to sway in time to the song. I had wanted this to be the first song Cohiba and I danced to after we got married, but I didn’t have that kind of wedding reception. We did have a first dance, though, just after the ceremony and then a dinner with our guests at one of the restaurants in EPCOT. As a compromise, we put the song on our wedding video, over the high reel.

If we were having coffee, I wonder aloud is that is why I like to watch people and try to read what’s going on., particularly when I think its a first date. First dates can go in so many directions, it’s like a crap shoot. Even over the course of the date itself, things shift. Still, she’ll come home with a story, hopefully better than the one I just told.

Now Sam Cooke is playing. The tunes in here today are live and on point.

Weekend Coffee Share #16

February 21, 2016May 20, 2016 ~ Sahara ~ 1 Comment

If we were having coffee, your mouth would open at the sight of the bandage on my ring finger. What happened?! Girl, let me tell you, and this is going to get kind of gross. I was using my new mandolin slicer to cut bits of apple for the Wee One, and wouldn’t you know it, I sliced the corner of my finger off.*

You immediately grimace and gasp. It’s not as bad as it sounds but it sucked when it happened. At first I thought I would have to get stitches, but there was nothing to stitch together! And then I thought, how am I going to get her out of her high chair and into a car seat without bleeding all over the place? I was trying to keep it elevated and pressure on it, which meant I couldn’t do anything with her! It also meant I had a sanitary napkin wrapped around my finger, which was the only sanitary wound care thing we had in the house, and looked pretty funny.

Then, she started choking on one of those fucking apple slices! She ended up throwing up a little bit, which got it out, but I was so upset, more than about my finger. I got her out of her high chair and held her for awhile, during which time the bleeding slowed and eventually stopped. I had contacted a friend to come over and help with her, for which I am so thankful. She stayed here and I got a proper bandage.

If we were having coffee, you would ask about the Wee One’s birthday party. It was so much work, man. I didn’t know it would be so much work, but, we had it in the clubhouse of the apartment complex, which is probably why it felt like so much: I had to take everything there and bring it back, which meant packing and unpacking the car. But the Wee One had fun and I’m glad it’s done.

We’re briefly distracted by some kids player soccer in the parking lot outside. I hope that doesn’t last long, you observe, given the traffic that comes through.

If we were having coffee, I would comment on one of the babies at the birthday party: she turned four months yesterday, which is about the age the Wee One was when we moved out here. It was remarkable to hold her and compare between then and now.

She’s a year old now. I can tell that she isn’t a baby anymore, but she’s not quite a toddler yet either. (Though that may mostly because because she’s still not mobile.) I can’t tell if I’m sad or not; I mostly just want to hold the Wee One closer. Which I usually want to do anyway. Also, my first year of motherhood is over. Even with a second, it won’t be my first time through. This special sacred tremulous time is over. Of course, now it’s my first time mothering a toddler, so here’s to that, I say with a smile, raising my coffee.

*It has made typing this week quite difficult!

Weekend Coffee Share #15

February 14, 2016May 20, 2016 ~ Sahara ~ 2 Comments

If we were having coffee, when I walk to the table, I notice a cherry danish where I would normally be sitting. “Are you expecting someone?” I ask you, half serious. You, silly! you say. You bought me a treat for Valentine’s Day, and now I feel like an asshole because I hadn’t thought of the same thing.

You wave me away when I say that, and point to one side. A side you cut. It was actually half of yours, but you knew I would feel like a jerk and you wanted to get a little chuckle this morning. I’m so glad I please you, I say, rolling my eyes. You notice I’m not drinking out of a paper cup, but a porcelain one. It’s actually quite big and you joke with me about being at Central Perk, from Friends. Oh stop, I say. You’re not that funny. You throw a napkin at me.

If we were having coffee, you ask me about Valentine’s Day with Cohiba and the Wee One. I shrug and roll my eyes. Cohiba and I really think it’s just a Hallmark holiday to make money so we don’t really care about doing big gestures. Instead, we went out for (a very early) dinner as a family, as we usually do on Saturday nights. We talked and made plans and watched the Wee One interact with other kids and learn about gravity by dropping things. You tell me you’ll be having a ‘Galentine’s‘ dinner with friends, which I think sounds like fun. I’ve actually never done that, and I just now realized that I could. You can come to mine next year, you say, if you make the cut.

This reminds me of a really sweet offer a friend of mine made. The Wee One’s birthday party is next weekend, and she said I could call on her if we needed any help picking anything up! Until she said that and I started thinking about it, I didn’t even realize how much having an extra person would help and how much her offer meant to me. You know, being a mother is also teaching me about friendship and being a good friend. Lessons I would not have learned otherwise. Cohiba and I were talking about that at dinner last night, how the Wee One has helped us be a better couple.

That sounds like a pretty nice Valentine’s Day lesson, you muse, and I agree.

If we were having coffee, you would ask me about how the story is coming; am I still working on it? I tell you that I think I’ve set a goal to finish my March. Ooh! I should put that on my 52/52! I say. Have you heard of National Novel Writing Month in November? You squint your eyes and say you think you have. When I do the blog posts every day in November, I’m doing it in lieu of a No, a novel. Have you every written one in a month? you ask me, and I tell you I haven’t, but I did write over 10,000 words, which is more than I’ve ever done before. And I don’t think this story should be a novel, at least not right now. So a 10,000 word story is good.

Well, I’m looking forward to it, you say.

Weekend Coffee Share #12

January 24, 2016May 20, 2016 ~ Sahara ~ Leave a comment

If we were having coffee, we would be meeting later than normal. Cohiba asked if I could take the Wee One during part of the morning, and so you and I arranged to meet in the afternoon. I offer to buy your coffee in thanks for your flexibility, but you wave me off. Its warm enough that we can sit outside, in the sun. Cohiba was right about the winter being better here, I comment to you, thinking of my friends in the Midwest who can’t even think about going outside without the wind cutting their face.

There is a father daughter couple sitting next to us; they look like farmers or ranchers. Their boots are heavy and mud-encrusted, and the brim of his hat is broad. Her jeans, though, are bejeweled around the pockets, which is incongruous with the muddy cuffs and army jacket. Incongruous, but it still works. “You go, girl,” I say quietly as they walk to their truck, and you laugh.

If we were having coffee, I would start to tell you about party planing I’m doing for Wee One’s first birthday. She turned 11 months yesterday! Ack! I had the hardest time coming up with a theme, but I have and I’m really happy about it. Now I’m thinking about decorations and pictures I want to take.

I didn’t realize party planning could be so fun, though! I think its because I’m celebrating something I love so much. I’m also trying to keep it inexpensive, so I’ve been trying to borrow a large number “1” for birthday photos a friend is taking. I haven’t been able to, though, so I’m going to draw something. Do you think that will look stupid? I ask, afraid that homemade will look tacky. Your mom did a lot of homemade stuff when you were little, you say, and you thought it worked.

Now that I think about it, my mom did a lot of homemade stuff, too, and I knew how much effort she put into it and felt special that she put so much consideration into the items. Making things for her is a way to put my love into action, I realize.

If we were having coffee, my birthday is coming up as well, you remind me, and ask if I]’m going to do anything special. I can’t really think of anything yet, I tell you, though I did make up a birthday list, which I usually put off. Perhaps I’ll try to go to dinner with friends? You suggest going paint balling. Seriously? I ask. You went a few months ago, you say, and had a blast. I think I want something a little more low-key.

I might fall back on an old favorite: having a mix Superbowl party and birthday party. I love the Superbowl, and it’s always around my birthday. Would you come? I ask, and you wave your hand at me. “I hate football,” you remind me, smiling.

There are two young kids couple sitting at a table next to us leaning on each other’s laps, looking at their phones, and kissing. We giggle and we try not to stare as we gather our belongings to leave. Oh, we remember those days well, and are glad they’re past.