Today I’m thinking about the difference between old school and simply old. Have I reached that point where groovy new things have passed me by? Several things have me wondering. (And p.s. this is not a sponsored post.)
Yesterday my blogger friends, Laurie and Jacqueline, mentioned two different things on Facebook that stumped me. A Wacom Pen and a Kombucha drink. Huh? Never heard of either. Am I’m living beneath an Ozark rock? Please tell me you don’t know either.
Not only do I not know about this pen and drink, I don’t really care that I don’t know. Another sign of life moving on by.
Combine this unknown pen and drink with the shiny yet old school Presto percolator delivered to my doorstep yesterday, and I’m on a old fashioned, downhill slide. (I do still shop via Amazon so perhaps that’s a point on the side of still breathing.)
Do NOT say you don’t know what a percolator is. Even if you don’t. Look it up.
Yes, I have a percolator. It’s electric so not completely dark ages, but sitting beside my fancy Keurig (that turned out to be not so fancy because breaking after only two years is never fancy), it looks very old school.
Keurig and I are parting ways. Yes, we can still be friends. I will be happy to see you at hotels and at the Bat Cave, but on a daily basis, not. You sort of wore me out.
I feel relieved.
Ours was a short love affair, but I take full responsibility. I changed. I came to realize the more I write, the more coffee I drink. Those annoying, expensive cups began to pile up in my garbage. Would Hemingway fiddle with those cups? I think not. Plus, if we are being honest, there was only one brand/flavor I really liked. It was easy to find in Dallas, but nearly impossible to locate in Fayetteville.
On this bright, clear 7 degree Fayetteville morning, I’m enjoying my first cup of freshly ground Arsaga coffee.
The rich aroma fills my house.
I have a steaming pot ready and waiting which is good because my downstairs is only 57 degrees. I cannot figure out the complicated thermostat that is apparently permanently programmed for chilly. (Another sign of aging, but seriously, why can’t thermostats simply have an on and off switch with a lever for temperature control? Yes, I’m rambling = another sign? Sigh.)
So. Am I a coffee snob? Maybe.
I want to buy freshly ground local coffee or grind my own. I want to smell it. And the sound of coffee percolating? Ahhh, lovely.
Mainly, I want a coffee pot that brews super hot, flavorful coffee. Even if it’s old school and not the coolest thing in town.
Grace Grits and Gardening
Farm. Food. Garden. Life.
Humble Pie – Black Coffee