A Hug In A Mug by Liz Flaherty #WordWranglers

Good morning from the buckle! Of the snow belt, that is. I'm sitting in my recliner in the living room because it's still dark and I'm not at all ready to navigate the drifts blocking the way to my office. It is a Good Thing sometimes, being retired from the day job and no longer having to worry about getting to work even when work is only 100 or so feet away. 

While I'm on that subject, thank you to all the essential workers who are out there in the white wilds keeping us safe and well. Especially this morning to the drivers of the big yellow equipment that clears the road for the rest of us. My prayers are in the cab with you today.

We were talking about coffee, weren't we? It has been a part of my life for my whole life. When I was a kid, our small house was heated first with a wood stove and then with an oil stove that took up what seemed like half the living room. The drip coffee pot sat on top of the stove all day. In warm months, it sat on a burner on the kitchen stove. Mom and Dad would heat up what remained in the pot whenever they wanted a cup. The coffee, Maxwell House Drip Grind, was...stout. I'm almost sure they had to cut it out with a knife, especially after they forgot it was heating and it came to a boil.

But, oh, the smell. Even as a kid who hated coffee's taste, I considered its scent to be a gift from heaven. I still do. 

I didn't drink it until I got married, when I found out my new husband, like my parents, drank it all day long. So, I did, too. The habit changed over the years. When I (finally) stopped smoking, I mostly stopped drinking coffee, too, because coffee and cigarettes went together for me.

I became a tea drinker instead, but eventually moved back to coffee. Now I drink Green Mountain Nantucket Blend from the Keurig with sugar-free hazelnut creamer. A lot of it. It is my first pleasure in the morning and a nice dose of the best afternoon delight since...well, you know. I still drink tea, too, although not as much. 

The bonus to being a coffee drinker and a romance writer is the glorious existence of coffee and tea shops. I haven't written in many of them, to tell the truth, but I would if the opportunity arose. Nan and I used to go to a tearoom called the Garden Gate and have two-hour lunches. She bought me a teapot there, and when they closed, she got delicate violet-trimmed cups and plates as reminders. 

Two Duane's and my favorite coffee shops are Jarrety's Place in Rochester, Indiana--also one of our favorite places to eat--and Black Dog Coffee in Logansport, but we are blessed with wonderful venues all around. Nan and I went to one in Michigan one time, practically salivating for a cup of coffee-shop blend and were horrified when it was so bad we couldn't drink it. 

Coffee and tea are not only satisfying and comforting beverages, they also add to stories. Nice to Come Home To had a coffee shop called Ground in the Round. A favorite place in more than one book was the Cup and Cozy. Tea on Twilight was a tearoom in Jar of Dreams. In the book I'm writing now, Have A Cup is at the corner of Main and Bridge Streets in the fictitious town of Fallen Soldier, Pennsylvania. 

And, oh, the joys of being a writer and a reader. Those places in those towns that have been born in my heart and keyboard are as real and warm and satisfying as Jarrety's and the Black Dog. I can sip my Green Mountain coffee or my Harney & Sons Paris tea and think "what if." The beverages and the places that serve them create that situation and place actor Jack Lemmon used to call "magic time."

I'm so grateful.