Surviving NarcissismLife After a Narcissistic Relationship

Apparently life is not waiting for me to catch up.  It’s time to put an end to my little pity party, round up the soggy wads of kleenex, wipe the mascara from under my eyes and move on.  Ever since the kids could walk, I’ve asked them to go get a kleenex when they see someone is hurt or crying.  It’s not because I wanted them to wait on me.  But handing someone a kleenex when they are crying is a great way to show you care when you don’t know what the hell to say.  It’s better than standing there waiting for the sobbing person to tell you, “Go get a kleenex, already.”  On Tuesday night, Will wised up and brought me the whole box.    There’s too much to do, too much to plan, and too much to anticipate to spend any more time licking my wounds.  Enough is enough.

I can hear Will grinding coffee as I write this.  We got a new shipment of fresh coffee beans yesterday.  The whole house smells fantastic.  Some people like the sound of birds chirping, some like the sound of laughter coming from a group of happy children, some like the sound of  (Susan, turn your speakers down) Eva Cassidy’s incredible voice.  I like all those things.  But for real comfort, I like the sound of fresh beans grinding.  Will has also learned how to make an excellent cup of coffee.  If I let him have a cup, he’ll make me one, too.  You have to pick your battles.  It’s far healthier for an 11 year old to drink a cup of coffee with a tablespoon of half and half, than a can of soda with 12 tablespoons of sugar.  Jenny isn’t interested in coffee.  It won’t be long.

A zillion years ago I worked at a little coffee shop and learned how to layer lattes and roast beans.  That was where I learned to be a coffee snob.  It’s easy to burn beans.  There’s a fine line that you want to get close to, but if you aren’t careful, you can scorch the beans and then you’re toast.  (That reminds me of the precariousness of relationships.)  I’m picky about the mug, the grind, the roast, and the process.  But it is so worth it.  Almost four years ago, the kids and I were driving to Miles City for the Annual Bucking Horse Sale.  We stopped in Harlowton for lunch and I had the best cup of coffee I’d ever had.  I’ve been ordering Ian’s beans ever since, and I’ve never been disappointed.

I grew up Catholic.  I love ritual even if I don’t love church.  I slice my own bread.  I use a waiter-style corkscrew to first peel the foil, and then unscrew the cork.  (Everybody I know has some new-fangled gadget for opening a bottle of wine.  Nothing is as reliable as an old-fashioned cork screw. )  I’m fussy about how long to steep a tea bag and the temp of the water.  And I’m particularly fussy about how I make a cup of coffee.  My process is laborious, messy, slow and inefficient.  (Reminds me of the first stages of a new relationship, but I digress.  Again. )  However, this method produces a damn good cup of coffee.  And I have no problem sharing my method with you.

another tangent…

I have a friend who bakes these unbelievable raspberry tarts.  She will go to her deathbed with that recipe.  No matter how I try to butter her up, she will not share.  I don’t get that.  If she shared her recipe there would be many more happy individuals in the world, with raspberry tart crumbs on their lips, looking to the heavens and whispering her name.  There’s no way that wouldn’t add something positive to her karma.  Now, when I take a bite of one of her tarts, there’s the slightest hint of bitterness that wasn’t there before.  I think that’s what not sharing tastes like.

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So here’s my method for making an outrageous cup of coffee.  Grind the fresh beans.  Don’t roll your eyes.  Don’t even think you can skip the grinding step.  It really does make a difference.  Don’t grind them too fine.  Stop grinding a second before you think they are done.  Set a plastic Melitta filter on top of your mug.  (This only makes one cup at a time, but since it looks like I’m going to be single for the rest of my life, that’s not an issue for me.)  Insert your #2 Melitta filter.  (Or use a little handled colander and a regular drip coffee maker filter and stand at the ready with a hand-full of paper towels to sop up the mess.)  Put in three scoops (about 3 heaping tablespoons) of fresh grounds.  Pour boiling water over the fresh (notice I’m big on fresh) grounds.  If your grind is right, you won’t need cream.  Grind it finer if you like a shot of half and half.  Personally, I’m taking a break from the half and half, because I don’t want a muffin top to go with my coffee.

There’s more to my recipe for moving on, but after this cup of coffee, we are off to the travel agent.  We’re picking up brochures for the cruise we’re taking in May.  Hey, if I’m gonna make lemonade from all these lemons, I might as well do it in the sun, on a ship, where someone else is doing the cooking and the cleaning.