sprinkles

In the battle to not go back to bed after my 4-mile run this morning, making coffee at home was the first good decision I made (well, after showering that is)... but believe me, you know it's gonna be one of those days when even the decision to make coffee is a struggle.  I so badly wanted to just run to the Starbucks or Bread Co down the street, plop down my $1.71 (or possibly more because let's face it, if I go into one of those places, I'm gonna want a pastry), and head out for my morning errands.  But this summer has been the summer of thriftiness and so after sitting in my kitchen for half an hour, debating with myself to either make coffee or give in to a morning nap, I decided to just suck it up and make it myself.  And I found out if I put enough coffee in the coffee maker, I can actually make a pretty decent cup.

The last couple of weeks have been good, but not in the traditional sense of the word... emotional sedation was the term I think I used in my last post?  But that all started to wear off after my counseling session yesterday.  And it wasn't so much of a counseling session as it was a grieving session because let's face it:  the only times I'm grieving these days are randomly by myself (usually in the car if something on the radio triggers it) or with my counselor Lynn.  Of course, yesterday's session stirred up all sorts of emotions that had sort of been numbed for the last couple of weeks... not intentionally, but just because it's not insanely healthy to grieve every single day.  Where I come from, we call that dwelling.  So I haven't been dwelling, but the struggle to make coffee this morning wasn't just a battle of wills... it was one of tiredness and ache for someone else to deal with things for me, even if it's to just make my coffee.  But you know, I did it.  I ran four miles, it's 9:25 am, I haven't gone back to bed yet, and I made my own coffee.  Not to mention that I somehow managed to resist the gluten-filled pastries of Bread Co.  So maybe there's hope for the rest of the day...

Speaking of gluten, yesterday while I was in Columbia, I had lunch with my dear friend and mentor, Dr. Budds, after which we went grocery shopping together, which was like something out of the movies.  If they ever make a movie about my life, I really hope they include the scene where Dr. B and I go to the supermarket together.  There we were, walking through the Columbia Gerbs when we came to the donut case.  Of course, this is even funnier if you consider the fact that Dr. B is a diabetic and I'm gluten-intolerant.  So we stop in front of the donut case, not to buy... just to look.
I ask him, "What's your favorite kind?"
"I like the ones with the chocolate frosting on top," he responds.  "What's your favorite kind?" he asks back.
"I like the ones with sprinkles," I say, admiring what looks to be a custard-filled long john with white icing and colorful sprinkles covering it.
"I'm not surprised," he replies, which makes me laugh out loud.  Dr. Budds has always thought of me as a Pollyanna figure, which may have been true at one point but really isn't the case anymore.  We're two cynics in a pod, he and I, although we try not to let it affect our sunshiny disposition, as he often likes to put it.  He sighs, "Let's go look at the pitiful things they have for diabetics..."
I laugh again and hesitate to leave the donut case, following him around the corner to the area where they keep cookies as hard as rocks and pies laced with Splenda.  After picking out a red velvet cake, we walk by the florist's area, apparently another favored section of the grocery store for both of us.  We look at the selection, talk about our favorite flowers, notice which ones on display look good and which ones aren't as attractive.  Like I said, straight out of a movie. 

What was more ironic than anything though was realizing that we both go through this routine of the pastry counter and the floral section whenever we go to the grocery store, yet in separate cities and without knowing the other one does the same thing.  This makes complete sense though, since we both have a sugar tooth we can't indulge and we both have a knack for gardening and botany.  It was one of those experiences I'll never forget... quite honestly my favorite part of the day.  It still makes me laugh when I think about it.  And as weary as we both are right now (him from being an overworked university professor and me from the emotional turmoil of my family and personal life) it was one of those healing moments:  funny, sweet, ironic, and affirming.  It's important to have people to pal around with, even if they've got forty years or so on you.

Maybe it's one of the reasons I make a terrible 21-year-old...