Superior Taste

  I really need to stop with the puns. I wish I could blame my gosh darned boyfriend or annoyingly corny father but I really only have myself to blame. I've fallen into the trap of a well-placed pun. I hate them still, but I've fallen none the less.
  A few months ago I randomly took a trip to Minnesota. I think it was a first for me actually, which is exciting because I've been to almost every state. Finding a state I've yet to experience is a big deal for me. A similarly big deal is when I drink coffee in a new state.
  The nice people I was staying with wanted to show my best friend and I Lake Superior. So off we went on an uneventful hour long ride to Minnesota. My one stipulation for the day was that if I am going to a new state, I must drink coffee.
  Upon arriving the city(I actually have no idea what city it was...minor details) my best friend I agreed that it looked like something right out of a dysutopian novel. After driving through the city we stopped at a tower of sorts. It was a historical tower, dedicated to some Count a hundred years ago or something. Very simple and pointless. Four flights of stairs, every level looking exactly the same. No rooms, barred windows, truly I don't why it was there only that it honored a titled foreigner. That I couldn't understand it made it all the more intriguing to me.
  This is a picture of the view from the top, which brings me to my next point of interest. Above is Lake Superior. In late May.
  "Why is Lake Superior white?" you might ask. Good question. We were asking the same thing on that sunny day.
  The Answer: Ice.
  We were so fascinated that we had to get a closer look.
  It was beautiful.
  There were chunks of ice as big as a car and who knows how deep. The wind blew over the them making the air chilly. Not too far out were ships that looked to me right out of the 1800's. Perhaps they were. Perhaps they sat out there as another tribute to the Mysterious Count.

    Before you reach the water there was a little park area with quirky places to get treats. My personal favorite was the mini ship that sold mini donuts. Delicious mini donuts. That was another first for me- eating donuts from a ship that is on land.

  And then there was the lighthouse. Honestly, what would a trip like this be without a lighthouse?

I hope you are wondering about now about the coffee. If you aren't then shame on you. Count Mysterious would be disappointed. Okay...Probably not. But aren't you at least a little bit curious if I got to drink coffee in a new state? I mean, it's a big deal for me. 

Fine. I'll just tell you. 

  Meet the Red Mug Coffeehouse. If ever there was a time to use the word "hipster" it would be in describing this place. From the weird and slightly disturbing artwork to the mismatchy furniture to the heavily bearded baristas. It was in a basement for crying out loud, how much more indie can you get? 

  I loved it. 

 So there you go. My first cup of coffee in Minnesota...I thought. 

 As I excitedly told the nice coffee man that I've never had coffee in Minnesota before he graciously informed me that we had just barely crossed the border back into Wisconsin.

  Dang it. 

A Person

I don't really know how self portraits work or if there are certain requirements that you have to uphold to make something a true self portrait. My general understanding is that it has to be something of you. Something that you created or thought up about yourself.
If someone were to ask me, "Are you a vain person?" I would want to give a modest and well thought out answer. Something that would make people think that I am a beautiful and confident woman who takes no notice if I am a beautiful and confident women.
But that would not be true. I care about my thin hair and squinty eyes and small stature. I look in the mirror more than I would like to admit, and I put too much effort into my appearance.
I do not say this to fish for compliments or to get people to tell me that I am wrong and beautiful. I say this because I want to be honest with myself and others.
I am vain.
Some days more than others. Somedays I really don't care; I throw my hair up and walk around in a big t-shirt and spandex shorts. But somedays, when the right people are around and giving me slightly superior looks, I am very vain.
Today I am posting a small series of self portraits. Not because I want to flaunt anything or get people to tell me nice things, not even because they have some deep, wonderful meanings.
But rather because I am just a person. And these are just photos from the past year that show a little of who I am as a person. A  flawed, vain, reluctantly poetic person.

Grind and Prejudice

It is a truth universally acknowledged that with a great love for coffee comes a wide array of spills and stains. I've often said that if I ever have children I will not be able to get mad at them for spilling because I will be knocking things over just as much- if not more. 

"Dad! Can you get a towel? Mom spilled her coffee again." 

 If you went through my closet you would have a hard time find a single article that does not have a coffee smudge, stain, blurb, squiggle, splotch or dousing. However, please do not go through my closet because that is creepy...

 I really try though, I do. I try very hard not to spill. It's just that mugs are cooler that tumblers. I know I shouldn't bring the mug in the car but holding a warm mug is like a tiny hug. And when I do have to-go mugs they often spill...on their own... without any real help from me. Also, Starbucks mugs are as tricky as their mascot (which is a Siren, by the way... who are the most diabolical, twisted sluts is mythology...), I swear the mouth hole moves. One minute it's right in front of me, I go to take a sip and BAM! it's on the other side of the cup, drizzling new stains on my innocent, impressionable, untainted, new white shorts. 

I like to the think of it as personality art. 

I am a painting. Coffee stains provide a realism to my art that really can't be replicated. That abstract touch that really captures who I am in. 

It's beautiful, okay? 

So if you see me, and if you see the coffee stain that I guarantee is somewhere on my attire, don't point it out, just appreciate the work of art.