The French Roast Connection

I don’t mean to collect coffee mugs. You may wonder how can you collect something unintentionally? This is how it usually goes:
While attending an art show, I spot “the perfect mug.” It could be a potter’s one of a kind pride and joy. Or a new sleek design in a chain of coffee shops. When yard sale-ing in the rain, maybe the color suits my treasure hunting mood. Or I spot a rare design from that New Mexican artist I will likely never see again, especially since I rarely travel more than a couple hundred miles from my home. If it is under 15$, I will almost always justify utilitarian beauty.

A mug might be a gift from an old friend now lost, like my rainbow colored angel cup. Or from a parent, like the time my dad went out West and brought me a mug from Montana. It has a crack and absorbs coffee sometimes, but I keep it because he was thinking of me. And when the mug’s included in my morning coffee ritual, I think of him...

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