Please excuse me as I wax poetic on making a cup of coffee. One of my most favourite rituals to perform is the act of creating the perfect cup of coffee. I have a metal kettle that I fill, and put on the stove to boil, because an electric kettle is too low maintenance for something like this. There's something organic about putting the kettle on the stove. If I had the wherewithal to make a cookfire in the yard every morning, I would probably prefer that. I keep my coffee beans in the freezer for maximum freshness, and my favourite thing is when they come in a brown paper bag. This might mean that they are specialty coffee beans, but in reality I bought them bulk from the grocery store. The brown paper bag makes them feel special. I tip a good amount into the electric grinder, then add a good shake of cinnamon and a splash of vanilla to the beans. This is a trick I learned from a girl I met back when I was pretending I might be a cool person. Good times. When I grind the beans, I count to some arbitrary number, because I've forgotten my Starbucks training, but figure I should have some sort of instinctual idea. Smells nice. I like to brew my coffee in a french press, because it taste so good, but more because it makes me feel pretentious. So, the coffee grounds with the vanilla and cinammon (Mmm.) all go into the french press, and by this time the kettle is nearly boiling. The hot water is poured on top. I mix the grounds and water with a wooden chopstick, because the only other stir sticks I have are hard plastic and the idea of sticking plastic in boiling liquid makes me feel squidgy. I could use a spoon, but the french press instructions say not to, because the metal could break the glass. I doubt I stir with that much force, but I've already broken one french press... Put the timer on for 4 minutes, and play with the cats. By this time the kitchen is full of coffee/vanilla/cinnamon smell, and it brightens my spirits. It makes me feel like today will be a good one. Pick a mug. This can be my favourite part. I love mugs. My Mom was recently over at my Gran's and they cleaned out her storage room. Gran had a bunch of stoneware holed up that makes my heart jump for joy. It's just perfect to look at and perfect to touch. She brought it back for me. This mug is so little, but I couldn't resist using it this morning. A splash of ridiculous coffee creamer in the bottom, and then filled to the brim with coffee. There were another 3 tiny mug-fulls left in the pot, and I finally know why Grannies all over use tea cosies. I wrapped a tea towel around the french press to keep it warm.

It takes a lot to overwhelm me. As in "to bury or drown beneath a huge mass; submerge utterly." I generally can break a situation, scene, person down into manageable, momentary parts. I walk into my office at home and see a dozen on-going projects, not a huge mess. Work is tasks which must be done in a certain order for a show to run smoothly, not just getting 74 seats filled. But I was aghast at my physical, gut reaction to entering a Sam's Club Warehouse Buying store today. I'd never been in one. Wal-Mart was bad enough. This verged on insanity. The acres of concrete lit by glaring flourescent lights. The metric tonnes of plastic and cardboard surrounding the actual product. The unhappy faces on the workers. My brain refused to take any more in; I had to literally shut down in order to get what I [thought I] needed and get out. I was there in order to buy concessions for our new show and it certainly was a better deal than I can get at my local supermarket. And they offer a bulk product mix that I can't find anywhere else that is tailored for concession sales. But after so many months of careful purchasing, of searching out local farms and artists, of being fiercely loyal to independent shops, willing to pay higher wages to ensure a better workforce, I drowned in my sadness for the waste this place is inflicting on the world. Yes, cheap goods for my pocket, but at what cost to the world? I decided then and there that as I am going forward with my plans for the theater, I will NOT let the "bottom line" mentality keep me from staying true to my beliefs for a vibrant local economy. I will find a local coffee supplier, I will contact the vineyard right down the road, I will seek out an emerging baker. I will use coffee mugs, even if that means I have to wash them after every performance. Yes, it means more work on our part, but it is worth every minute to NEVER have to step foot in this place again.