Coffee On A Snowy Day

We recently picked up some new mugs at Crate and Barrel.  They hold 15 oz and fit into my hands like they were molded for me.  I love the scent of the coffee as it hits me, cozy, warm, harkening me back to when I was a wee little girl sneaking sips of my grandmama's cup.  The heat radiates down through my fingertips, warming my hands.  The taste, like comfort tinged with the bitterness that sometimes comes in life. 

I've always drank coffee.  I honestly cannot remember a time when I haven't.  And though we get some odd looks, Nora drinks coffee as well.  We learned quickly that the only way to keep her little paws off our mugs is to tell her that it is "très chaud" (very hot)*.  That usually works.  I drink mine with a splash of milk, though if we're out I'm not above drinking it black.  G likes his sweetened with a bit of sugar.  I always tease him, and he says I'm already sweet enough so I don't have to use any.  Nora likes to eat chocolate covered espresso beans, so she's not particular if her coffee is sweetened or not (I usually make what we grew up calling coffee milk for her). 

It's snowing hard, G got sent home early, and there is a good chance that tomorrow will be a snow day as well.  I love these times.  The quiet city.  The hot drink warming me.  Simple luxuries that make my life beautiful.

*For some things I use more French than English.  For instance, "listen to me", "very hot", "stop", and "it's finished" (my way of telling her the tantrum is done) are almost always in French.