In the olden days, even before I was short . . . the milkman delivered milk in glass bottles with cardboard caps. The milk was straight from the dairy just outside of town. It wasn’t homogenized. That meant that it would separate. The cream would rise to the top.
The cream is the wonderful part.
One teaspoon of real cream in a cup of coffee is better than any famous coffee shop can offer. I used to drink real cream in my coffee every morning. But now the store where I live doesn’t carry it. I suppose that’s better for my health. I’m not so sure about my well being . . .
Believe it, compared to one teaspoon of real cream, anything at Starbucks is second best. And Starbucks is also a wonderful part of life to me.
This weekend, I’m going to find some cream. Maybe it won’t be the kind that goes in coffee, but it will be cream just the same.
I might just read a novel.
Or I could take two naps on Saturday.
Maybe I’ll sit at the window and watch the lake.
I’ll watch a favorite movie.
I’ll handwrite a letter to a friend I miss.
I’ll do one thing that’s not electronic, something that is in no way related to working or moving a project forward. I’ll so something that is good for my well being — one teaspoon of rich cream.
The cream is the wonderful part. Can’t have a life without that.
Don’t forget the cream this weekend.