Kopi Kampung Kopi Kampung Kopi Kampung Kopi Kampung Kopi Kampung Kopi Kampung Actually, I had a homemade vanilla latte from home today. I’d been neglecting Francesca and she was good to me. She frothed just right.

It’s Almost As Strong As Starbucks

I’m not big on looking at Google searches for how people found me, but today I actually had the time to do it. While I have no idea why the “crawling skin” person would be interested in me, I am most pleased that “shoplift the pootie what does it mean?” garnered me the number one spot. Cool. Starbucks needs to watch their back, too, because “kopi kampung” brought them up in the 1st and 2nd spots, but it was MOCHA MOMMA that was numbers 3 & 4. HA. I’m hoping to knock them out so please leave some Kopi Kampung love for me in the comments should you be the commenting type.

His Kung Fu Is Strong, Too

Recently, my addiction with flickr has helped me find not only great photos, but some great bloggers as well. Currently, my favorite photographer is Ted Foo who has some serious kung fu to his photos. He also introduced me to this as Mr. Rogers has been the topic of late in our house. The video is about 6 minutes in length, but it’s worth it to watch the entire thing for his sincere concern for the state of television in 1969. Every time I watch it I tear up for how it touches me.

First, it’s been the topic because Morgan watches it every single day. I’m grateful for that because Mr. Rogers was The. Coolest. Guy. Morgan doesn’t really have much of a choice since we don’t have cable (or TiVo or anything - it’s a personal family choice so we don’t watch crap).

Secondly, because Ken’s sister used to work for the public television station. Once, while working up on a scaffold she dropped her hammer (or wrench or something made of metal and hard) and she yelled “Ow! Fuck!” (or something really, really bad) and when she looked down she noticed Fred Rogers walking by and looking up at her. Of all the people in the world you wouldn’t want to cuss in front of, I would think Mr. Rogers would rank right up there.

Her Kung Fu Is The Strongest

Since I’ve been handed my ass by my mother in yesterday’s post comments, I figured it was time to make good come of it. Because, seriously, I don’t need my mom to be mad at me. It’s not like I hold the cards on her and can’t make her life miserable while living with me. Sure, we have an extra room, but that couch is looking like a perfect fit for her now. This was paragraph number one, Mom.

There’s something about the impending threat of my mom moving in with us that makes me want to clean things that she would never really care about, but I don’t need to hear anything about the state of my closets or about the dust behind the piano. I’m on it. Mason was given the dustrags and some furniture cleaner first thing this morning from his TaskMasterMommy. Right after he asked to go to the movies and needed money, I knew how I would rope him into doing housework. This was paragraph number two, Mom.

There are a few things my mom and I do well together and one of them is cook. We are on the same vibe in the kitchen and have shorthanded language and like to eat all the same things. No one in the world makes better biscuits and gravy than my mom and I’m going to make her cook it every Saturday morning. Please, Mommy? This was paragraph number three, Mom.

It’s my sincere hope that our family doesn’t try to change things when she moves in, but I know that’s inevitable. We’ll try to live life as normal as possible with regards to hanging out as a family, attending various kid functions, but Kennimus and I will try to have very quiet sex. This was paragraph number four, Mom

Her sense of humor is far greater than mine and she is exactly where I learned to be this wild, mouthy, opionated woman. It’s possible that we’ll even get another tattoo together. I envision a lot of laughter in this house and that’s no different than our every day norm. I even laughed when I saw her comment for the first time ever. But, in truth, what I originally thought when I read it was don’t get cheeky with me, motherfucker.

I’m more concerned about cussing in front of Mr. Rogers than I am my mom.

No coffee today. I’m ok. Really I am. I just didn’t have any coffee. In lieu of a post, I offer a quote from Oliver Wendall Holmes that my mother sent me in the mail: The morning cup of coffee has an exhilaration about it which the cheering influence of the afternoon or evening cup of tea cannot be expected to reproduce.

Last night’s phone conversation with my mother:

Her: Whatcha doin’?

Me: Well, I’m trying to get back to my online class projects, but Ken’s taken over my computer at the moment.

Her: What’s Ken looking at on the Internet? Porn?

Me: No, he’s not looking at porn, Mom.

Ken: (shouting into the phone over my shoulder) No, those are on home videos!

So there is that going on for me right now. Inappropriate conversations with my mother are always fun. It will be on a more frequent basis once she moves here in the next couple of months because SHE WILL BE LIVING WITH US FOR A WHILE. If ever I were concerned about running out of topics to write about, she’ll provide me with plenty.

Being near family has been foreign to me for many years. After I left home and went to college I never returned again. Not even in the summer months. It was far too difficult to pack up my toddler and go back to live with my mom in Chicago so I stayed and took classes over the summer months as well. One would think that I could have finished in under 4 years. I managed to squeeze 4 years of college into 5 and am quite proud of that fact. I waited until the last semester to take my math class and was sorry I did: all the freshman taking that course kept pestering me to buy their beer for them. Wouldn’t you think those stupid rookies know I kept an extra $2 bucks when I gave them their change back?

As if that weren’t enough, my absolute favorite sister-in-law, Chris, called me just now to tell me they are moving to St. Louis. I think I broke her eardrum with my scream. We’ve never been able to do so much as a 4th of July bar-b-que with family because they all live so far away, and now I’ll be able to see her every weekend if I want. Chris and I have always gotten along (after I was done being jealous of her because she’s so smart and beautiful and talented and just generally fucking annoyingly wonderful) and love to talk and shop. She is an excellent shopper. Her shopping skills need to be chronicled. I think she has blueprints to the galleria.

God. I love her.

She’s married to Ken’s older brother, Gale, and they are the closest in age to use as anyone else in the family.

That’s because Ken is the baby boy in a family of 5 kids and there were four kids right in a row one, two, three, four and then TEN years later, there was Ken. So, not only did I marry a Baby Boy, but I married one who is, by psychological standards, an ‘only child’ and quite spoiled.

So stop thinking it’s all that great to be married to Kennimus for a minute, ok?

Because as soon as they move here I will become a widow of sorts. They will golf together, watch pro-basketball games together and generally do All Boy Stuff since they get along so well with one another.

Chris and I will shop during that time. Hopefully, I can suck her in to the inappropriate conversations as well.

My coffee of choice today was sex. To sweeten it, I added a dash of sex. It was very nummy. But seriously, I have a question for those of you who read the Cuppa the Day: is it hard to see it over here? I’m thinking of putting it back at the top of my entries. Do you have any thoughts on that? Or do you just have sex on the brain? Geez.