Do you ever just do something with very little thought, or is it just me? I do it all the time. Mr. FullCup is often saying, “What were you thinking?” The honest answer is actually, “I wasn’t.” Thinking has never been high on my list of favorite activities. I’m driven more by action. Why waste time thinking when you can be out there doing?
I mean, reeeeeeeaaaaaaalllllyyyyyyy.
Mr. FullCup, though, he’s a thinker. I’m sure he’s still thinking about something from kindergarten. Inscribed on his tombstone will be the words, “I’m still thinking.” If he’s said it once, he’s said it a million times. To me.
I get a seriously silly case of the never-ending giggles when someone tells me I’m a deep thinker. People, maybe I am, but maybe I also say things I haven’t thought of yet. Most often thoughts are in my head and out my mouth before I have a chance to think about them. Sometimes, yes, I cover my mouth in shame or abject horror thinking I surely didn’t say that out-loud. But I did.
So what great thing have I done without thinking about? Two actually.
A dear woman of God that I know challenged me to write at least 500 words a day. To that end I’ve been blogging more. Sometimes I have an idea of what I want to say, other days I sit and stare at the computer praying for something to drop into my head. I almost never know the end from the beginning. I always thought that was because I’m such a free spirit, under the complete control of the Holy Spirit.
Maybe to some extent that is true. But I think it is equally true that I’m maybe lazy and too spontaneous.
At any rate, I’ve missed the last two days. I tried, I really, really tried last night to convince myself that meant today I had to write 1500 words. Please.
Don’t hold your breath. I’d hate to be responsible for your death. I mean. I could. But it isn’t likely. (Just so you know, you have now read 350 words.) It takes work to write every day. But it is a discipline and a good one, so I’m likely to continue but please know, I’ll likely miss a few days here and there.
I love coffee. You might know that about me. You might not. It’s important, but not of extreme importance. I love everything about coffee. I love the taste, the smell, the anticipation of the first sip. I love it’s velvety smoothness flooding my mouth and flowing down my throat. I love it black the best.
My favorite flavor of coffee has always been hazelnut. I’m just nutty about that. Yesterday I was at my local Scooters, if you don’t have a Scooters, MOVE to where there is one! I love my Scooters. Not just because my daughter works there, I love the workers and the coffee. Oh the coffee.
The manager has graciously allowed me to called him, Rimi, a shortened form of his last name, and I love nothing more than pulling up to the drive-thru order box and saying, “Hi Rimi! I just need my regular.” And he knows exactly who I am and what my order is.
Yesterday I handed my thermos to him through the window and he asked, “What did you have in here?”
“It smells like hazelnut, was it?”
“Yes, it was.”
Then we had a discussion about his allergy to nuts. This allergy negates his ability to drink hazelnut coffee. And the light begins to burn in my mind. Or as Gru says,
I have developed a nut allergy. I can’t have peanuts (which technically don’t count because they are legumes and not nuts) and I can’t have tree nuts. Bad things happen. Lately I’ve been feeling pretty rough a lot. By a lot, I really mean, all the time.
I thought was because over the holidays I splurged on food I don’t normally eat because of reactions I have. But even with stopping that it hasn’t helped.
It’s the coffee! I never even thought the hazelnut flavor would affect my allergy. (Fyi, I should have shut up 201 words ago.)
Obviously my allergy is not life-threatening. Of course if it had been I might have put two-and-two together sooner.
Like when I was in the casket at my own funeral but then it’d be a little too late.