six more random things

Because he makes me laugh and calls me his gluten-free friend, I am taking 23 Degrees's tag-back request to share six more random things. :o)

First, a correction to a random thing in the original post.
I was 2 or 3 years old when the robin egg eating incident occurred, not 5 or 6, and I thought you should know. Thanks for keeping me honest, Mom!!


1. The latte diet took a detour.
I had to switch to decaf because regular coffee was making me break out like a thirteen-year-old. Sadly, even the so-called Anti-Acne Blend that Caleb was good enough to send to me – that he roasted himself at Yaks, by the way – resulted in several facial eruptions of the pimply kind (but that dangerously dark roast is so stinking delicious, I almost didn’t care about the zits). Sometimes I sneak a few fully-leaded beans into my morning grind because 1) it would be tragic and irresponsible of me to let perfectly good coffee beans go to waste, and 2) I’m rebellious & fond of testing my limits.


2. No dish needed.
As far as I’m concerned, this is on my Top 10 List of Things I Love About Being Single. I bought it, no one else eats it, no one else has a right to complain about it, and there is just no sense in dirtying the dish (I do, however, use a spoon). So yes, I am going to be so audacious as to stand in the kitchen & eat Luna & Larry’s Coconut Bliss Mint Galactica ice cream Straight From the Container.


3. Gasp!! Where is my French homework?!
It would be exaggerating to call them nightmares, but several times a year, I have the same dream that I’m back in high school & have forgotten my French homework and my locker combination. The anxiety that attends these dreams is such that I wake up tense, frantic, my heart pounding with dread, wondering how in the world I could be so irresponsible as to forget my French homework (gasp!!). Incidentally, I never forgot my locker combo, & the one time I forgot a homework assignment in high school, it was for a government class (American government to be specific, which did not involve any guillotines as far as I recall).


4. Gladiator love.
When Christin and I were roommates in our senior year at Biola, we fell in love with the movie Gladiator. We saw it no less than three times in the movie theater, primarily because we were so enamored of the character Maximus (aided in no small part by the fact that he was played by Russell Crowe). Seriously … what’s not to love about a fierce warrior who, when asked how long it’s been since he has been home with his wife and son, replies, “Two years, two hundred and sixty-four days and this morning”? Aw …


5. A trouble-maker, even in utero.
My havoc-wreaking days on this earth began before I even exited the womb; just ask my Mom. I certainly kicked as babies do, but I did kicking one better. I became fond of sticking one of my feet up in between Mom’s ribs. She would push it down and I would put it right back. She would push it down again, and I would shove that cute little foot right back into the same place in those ribs. Over and over again. She was still sore long after I was born because I had managed to break three ribs and tear some cartilage. Ow. Sorry, Mom!


6. Car trip countdown.
If you’ve seen my sidebar, you know I’m a fan of countdowns. On one now infamous family vacation to the Oregon coast when I was about 10 years old, I asked my dad how long it would be until we arrived at our destination. He told me, about two hours. And I asked, how many minutes is that? He told me it was 120 minutes. I would periodically pop my head forward to the little digital clock taped to the dash of the old Chevy Citation and announce: 119 minutes! 118 minutes! 117 minutes! 116 minutes! I think it was at about 114 minutes! that Mom had had enough and ripped (ripped, I tell you!!) that little clock right off the dash.

Whew! For now this gluten-free-eating-decaf-coffee-drinking-standing-in-the-kitchen-eating-coconut-milk-ice-cream-French-homework-dreaming-gladiator-loving-troublemaking-rib-breaking-countdowning girl is going to wrap herself in some red flannel sheets and call it a night.

Peace to you all, and have a great weekend!

pre-grad photo of christin & kirsten {may 2000}

coffee photo by kirsten.michelle

the latte diet {a sip or 2 of stewardship}

I cannot believe it's already been a full week since I last posted anything here!! The week has been a flurry of activity at work and in the goings-on in the slice of life I claim away from my job and the blogosphere {who knew such a slice of life existed?!}.

I am awake; I'm out of bed and moving about. I am most definitely looking forward to sharing some of the goings-on of this week with you in the near future. But for now, some of it is going to be tucked away in a file with big red letters reading TOP SECRET stamped on the cover. It's just a little bit mean to bait you with that information, but I won't lie: it keeps me entertained!

I've had much on my mind lately, and while what you're about the read is not the most exciting on my list {not by a longshot}, it is something important to me; so I want to share with you the results of this recent project/experiment I've undertaken.

As the title of this blog suggests, I like lattes. I enjoy them quite a bit. One might even say I love them.

Each sip of a good latte is a taste of heaven for me and not a single one goes unappreciated. When I get that cup full of hot espresso and steamed soy milk, I wrap my chilled fingers closely around the cup and let its heat radiate outward, translating itself into hands that are hungry for the heat it offers. Tensing my muscles in anticipation, I inhale deeply, put the lid of the cup up to my lips, slowly take in that first sip, savoring it in my mouth for a moment until I finally swallow. My muscles release and a deep sigh of contentment escapes my lungs as it slides down my throat and nestles into my belly. Mmm …

These tastes of heaven and sighs of contentment come at a price, however. I have yet to find the coffee shop that gives away its beverages for free {NOTE: if you find one, I am willing to relocate}. These cups of contentment add up in a very objective, dollars and cents kind of way. The price seems so innocent, so benign when it’s one at a time. But collectively, that’s something else.

This past Tuesday, I grit my teeth, logged on to my credit union’s website, and went through the past two months of bank statements to see how often I was making purchases as well as to gather some hard data around exactly how much I was spending. I've known for awhile that it was time to take the long view regarding my latte habit. The number wasn’t as much as I feared, but it was enough to make me reconsider whether or not this was the best use of the money with which God has entrusted to me. Seeing as I’ve been averaging a little over twenty pit stops per month (gasp!!), the answer to this one was a no-brainer: I didn’t have to banish lattes completely, but my behavior and habits would need to change.

I was already at least partway set up for success: I had a French press my brother gave me around Christmas-time that was gathering dust in a kitchen cabinet I can only reach with a stepstool. For the cost of about two lattes, I recently purchased 10 oz. of a wonderful, fair-trade organic coffee. For the cost of about half a latte, I purchase a container of vanilla soy creamer. Add a little squeeze of the agave syrup already in my possession to sweeten it, and I was good to go.

So for the cost of 2.5 lattes, I’ve already had 5 cups of coffee. The French press version with soy creamer mimics my favorite pricey drink quite well and even if I had used up all the coffee beans as of today {which I have not, of course}, I’ve already saved myself the cost of nearly three lattes and the savings will only compound with each cup consumed of the French press version, assuming it is standing in for a would-be latte purchase.

My new morning pick-me-up has already paid for itself in less than a week. I enjoy it every bit as much as the real deal. A bonus on top of the dollars saved is I’m also reducing waste in the process. I am guilty of being one of those consumers who goes through the drive-through and gladly defaults to the paper cup. I now take my coffee with me in a ceramic tumbler that is easily rinsed and washed once I’ve gulped down my morning brew. Sounds like a win-win to me!

If I reduce my consumption of lattes to average out to one or even two lattes per week, I'm in a position for an annual savings of several hundred dollars. While over the course of a year a few hundred dollars may not seem like much, the advantages far outweigh any loss I might incur as a result: I'm mindful of a particular spending habit, I'm reducing waste, and the dollars I save can go toward something else {a trip? another writing conference? helping finance a philanthropic or missions project?}. When offered to the almighty God who took a few loaves and fishes to feed a multitude, who knows what He might be able to do with a few hundred dollars?

I guess we'll see!

On a side note, the name of my blog will not be changing. French press & rainy days just doesn't have the same ring to it! :o)

latte photo by kirsten.michelle