Personal blog of christian
writer & fallible mom
Katy McKenna Raymond
in Kansas City, Missouri
Katy is represented by
Greg Johnson at
WordServe Literary
Read more Katy at
LateBoomer.net
123
Recent Posts
- Try
- Becoming Brenda Starr
- Off Beat
- Scattered
- That’s It
- So I’ve Finally Signed With An Agent. Now What?
- The Spoon
- Sciatica
- Sweetheart
- A Woman’s Train of Thought Has No Caboose
- However much we own, we are all still living on borrowed time
- After all, when restaurants shrink portions, they don’t shrink prices.
- As with everything in life, balance is key.
- Slow down, you move too fast…
- Yeah, I know. I have issues.
Syndicate
E me at katy @ ngenius.com
(No Title)
It's 7 a.m. I wake myself up without an alarm, happy not to hear it, since I feel a migraine in the making. I stumble to the kitchen to put on the coffee. Someone has left Mr. Coffee turned on all night, and he's burnt to a crisp. And smells bad, too. I do not swear. I scrub the caked on, crusty residue from the bottom of the pot, and fill it with fresh morning water. It is a new day. I pour the water through the machine, and set the cafafe on its burner, gingerly. The burner is still sizzling from its all-night affair. Looking back, it's possible I didn't set the carafe squarely on its burner. In fact, it might have been about half on, half off. Nevertheless, I move forward. I grind the Starbucks, add it to the filter, slap it shut, turn it on, and go back to bed. It's 7:05 a.m. The coffee pot is finishing its work, and the noise awakens me. I am happy it's not the alarm, since my migraine is building rapidly. I stumble to the kitchen to pour the coffee. Someone has set the carafe onto the burner at such an angle that none--none!--of the brew has landed in the pot. Not one drop of ten cups. I do not swear. I am momentarily relieved when I see how little of the liquid is on the countertop. What am I thinking? If not here, where? It's 7:45 a.m. Sometime today, we may finish mopping up coffee and scooping up slimy grounds from the inner reaches of the silverware drawer. We will certainly break out the shop-vac and suck up what remains of my morning libation from behind the stove. I retire to my bedroom. It's 8 a.m. Doug walks in and serves me a mug of the stuff. Why he chose the mug with the picture of dice on it, I cannot guess. "For such a little mistake," he says, "it sure made an awfully big mess." We laugh, and hug, and forget to swear. God's mercies are still new every morning.
Posted by Katy on 08/07/02 at 12:56 PM
Fallible Comments...
Next entry: (No Title)
Previous entry: (No Title)
copyright 2011, ngenius media inc.
