A Year of Blogging: September 29, 2011

September 29 is 'National Coffee Day'. It is also 'Poisoned Blackberry Day'. That one made you go 'huh?', didn't it? I have to admit, I was curious. Why *poisoned* blackberries? Why not just blackberries? During the 1700's, blackberries were thought to cause more deaths than any other fruit that came from a vine or bush. Apparently, people roam around on September 29 looking for blackberries that will kill people instantly. So I'd beware of anyone offering you something made of blackberries today. Poisoned Blackberry Day was so odd I just had to mention it! Now on to coffee. I do not drink coffee. Not any more. I used to drink coffee. I started drinking coffee when I was around 12 or 13 years old. Mom and Dad always drank coffee. They each had a cup in the morning, and Dad took a thermos of coffee to work with him. On weekends, they had a couple of cups each. I don't quite know how I started drinking coffee. Grandma Wager was concerned about me drinking coffee. Mom asked 'what? Is it going to stunt her growth?' (I was well on my way to being 5'9" by this time, so Mom was being sarcastic.) I drank coffee every morning. I have never been a morning person, and in high school, I was a bear. Or a tiger, actually. I had the somewhat misfortune to be born into a family of morning people. Perky morning people. I have always been a night owl (something my father always blamed on the fact that I was born in the evening). I'm more pleasant at 10pm than I am at 8am. This has improved with age. Having to be to work at 8am forces me to be a little more pleasant a little earlier. My parents get up and start conversing with people. My sister is hard to get up, but once she's up she's peppy and ready to go (so are her children too....). I was the person who wore nightshirts that said 'I Don't Do Mornings' or 'Morning People Suck'. I woke up, and trudged downstairs, eyes barely open, into the bathroom. My father took delight in my grumpiness. He stood in the kitchen, planting himself in front of the bathroom door. When I stepped into the kitchen, he boomed 'Good Morning Sunshine!' and tried to hug me. Most times I answered him with a grunt and pushed him out of the way. As I stumbled into the bathroom for my shower, he stood in the kitchen dancing around, waving his hands in the air, and singing 'Oooh! I've got a tiger by the tail this morning.' It thrilled him to repeat this every single morning. As I said, my family is disgustingly perky in the morning. The shower woke me a little bit, and when I got out of the shower Dad asked if I wanted my coffee. Now that's a silly question. He poured the coffee for me, and when I was dressed I went into the kitchen. He'd try for another hug and usually, that time, I'd give him one. I still didn't want to talk though. I fixed my coffee, grabbed whatever I felt like having for breakfast, and went upstairs to do my hair and makeup. After I had my coffee, I could converse with others. I liked my coffee light and sweet. That means with extra milk (or cream) and lots of sugar. I think I put in 3 or 4 teaspoons of sugar. Grandpa just looked at me and shook his head as I shoveled sugar into the coffee. I drank coffee until I went to college. Yes, until college. Most people start drinking coffee when they go to college. I stopped drinking it. There was a perfectly good reason why. The milk came from a machine! One of the more idyllic parts of my childhood was that we had a milkman. Charlie the Milkman came right to our door. My parents were using him before I was born, and he remained a fixture at our house until his sudden death seven years ago. He came twice a week, on Mondays and Thursdays. If we weren't home, we left a note on the door and he left the milk in the back room. He kept track of what we ordered, and once a month left a bill with the milk. The next time he came, Mom had a check for him. Charlie owned the Sunshine Dairy. He had a big green truck with a big sun with large, finger like rays extending over the side of the truck. When I was really little, the milk was actually packaged in Sunshine Dairy cartons. As I got older, it was Crowley's I think. We always called it 'Charlie's milk'. If Charlie arrived during dinner time, Mom fixed him a plate and we added another chair to the table. He was a fixture in our family, and well-known in the area. Everyone knew Charlie the Milkman. I grew up drinking milk with almost every dinner. Dad grew up near family farms, and grew up drinking milk. He insisted that we drink it as well. The only night we were given a pass was if we were having pizza for dinner, then we were allowed to have a soda with our meal. Dad still often had milk, even with pizza. I had never encountered powdered milk until I went to college. The first few weeks I didn't really notice. I was so busy settling into my routine and adjusting to living in the Midwest, that I didn't pay a lot of attention to the milk in the dining hall. Sure, it came out of a machine, but I figured there were cartons of milk inside the machine. One day I saw them replenishing the milk, and they were using a powder. I was shocked! I called my parents immediately and told them the milk came from a machine. This revelation ended my coffee drinking. I couldn't drink my coffee without milk, and I wouldn't drink the powdered milk. I tried going to a nearby store and buying cartons of milk (I had a larger than average refrigerator in my room, so I could hold a half gallon of milk), but the milk tasted funny. It didn't matter what brand I tried. It just wasn't the same as Charlie's milk. Charlie commented that Mom and Dad's order increased significantly when I came home for break from college. Dad told him he might as well park the truck in the yard. I explained to him that the milk in Indiana just wasn't as good as what he delivered. I asked him to consider moving to Indiana, but he said no. He was flattered that there was nothing like Charlie's milk. Yes, I guess I was spoiled. It has only been in the last ten years or so that I drink milk again. But I don't drink it as often as I used to, and when I do drink it, I have to add Hershey's syrup to it. Even after all these years, it's still not the same to me. I tried drinking coffee again after college, but the caffeine upsets my stomach. I haven't had coffee now in about 10 years. The smell of coffee brewing makes me hungry. Which is awkward, because Erich is a big coffee drinker- there's always a pot of coffee on in our house!