Stop Touching Things

"Miss! you can't touch the artwork..."
"He means you, too, G-ma"

Monday, January 2, 2012

Drinking Coffee since 1981

Check out this dudes landscapes made from coffee rings.
The G-Ma was a small town farming gal. There are stories of my grandparents sneaking across the border to Iowa to bring back Margerine in 10 lbs blocks. The dairy board had much influence in this state and margerine was illegal... but that's another post.  She served thick slices of tomato for lunch and coffee was always consumed hot and black.

When my sisters and I would visit, there was always the peculator going and the smell of coffee and cigarettes defined my childhood visits to Southern Minnesota.  She had the same coffee mugs my whole childhood. Thick brown mugs with tiny finger holes. These and two tiny white porcelain cups. Too large to be doll cups, and too finely made to be toys. Both these sets of mugs fascinated me during my childhood. The brown ones because of the thick glaze dripping from the the top. The feathery mixture of these mugs led me to start my own collection of Hull crockery.

Even more facinating were the tiny cups. To this day I do not know why she had these cups, or where she acquired them. My best guess is that they were espresso cups that she found a thrift store or garage sale. That in itself adds another layer of mystery. This was 'back in the day' people. What kind of farmers had espresso cups? They percolated their coffee for crying out loud... the worst possible way to make coffee.

If we pestered the G-ma enough, she would serve me or my sister or cousins what amounted to a 1/4 cup of bad midwestern coffee in these cups. My 6 year old brain could not figure out who would drink out of such small cups.

To this day I love coffee. Stong. Black. and in Small cups.