Drinking coffee from a pretty mug
Pretty mugs always heighten the experience of drinking something warm and comforting. Some of my favorite mugs are bought from the oasis that is the kitchen section at Anthropologie. Others are gifts I gratefully received. Different mugs serve different states of mind and I relish in the selection of the right mug for a particular cup of coffee. Better, a cappuccino.
The audible friction, a quick pop, and the immediate scent of embers. Of fire. Matches are valuable in that they have an expiration. One moment matches burn brightly, and the next they are gone. The scent lingers on like a fond memory.
I have yet to meet a person who does not like a s'more or some variation of one. Not a huge fan of marshmallows, my mom simply melts some Hershey's over a graham cracker. Others go without the chocolate. I myself like it all; the more decadent, the better. My sister and I roasted leftover chocolate covered Peeps from Easter and it was quite successful. Once I used a peanut butter cup in lieu of milk chocolate. Divine. Huddled around the fire with marshmallow laden fingers there is laughter.
A rocking chair
I am well beyond my days as a child, but I know why children are calmed by rocking. It is fluid and soothing. The pattern is predictable and therefore constantly reassuring. Forward and backward. Forward and backward. While no one is cradling me in their arms whispering "Shhh, baby sleeping", I still have the rocking chair.
Getting a green light
Living and driving in a metropolitan region, stop lights are, well, everywhere. Every so often though, the green lingers a little longer than I anticipated and I can continue on my journey, uninterrupted. My sister touches the ceiling overhead in a fit of superstition to prolong the green as she approaches the intersection. I giggle but it does always seems to work.