Coffee talk

One of the many neat things about Nancy is her sense of playfulness. She recognizes and celebrates it in herself too. She had errands to run yesterday afternoon, and called me to say she'd make a Starbuck's stop and bring us a nice coffee. When she got home, she said that the coffee had tipped over and spilled in the car, and her way of making lemonade from, um, coffee beans was to enjoy the smell of it on the carpet all the way home.

The other way of making it fun was that the small portion that had survived was then presented to me ceremoniously, in Nancy's mother's china teacup. So pretty, and so delicate that you worry you might sip too hard and hurt it. I objected initially to being the recipient of the remains, and as we chatted, I said we could have gotten into her daughter's toys instead and pulled out a little tea set and then we both could have had a cup. We laughed.

This morning when I arrive, I find this miniature coffee service waiting on my desk. You can get a sense of the scale from the spoon. (The note says "Morning coffee?") Nancy had the cutest imp's smile on her face. I giggled and primly drank my cup.