Saturday Morning Post: Black Coffee

It's 3:20 a.m, Saturday.
I'm alone in the living room of a cabin at Shenandoah Crossing. I'm surrounded by beautiful woodwork, and a rug that reminds me of the Reagan Ranch. Michael is going to be sleeping for the next 40 minutes, so this is my time.

I have a nice, big mug of black Breakfast Blend, hot. I'm so glad they don't have those small hotel-mugs. I need a real cup of coffee. And, since I've started eating mainly Paleo a few months ago, and now I drink my coffee black - all the time - I wonder how and why I ever didn't.

Black coffee is so real, so pure, so exactly perfect.

I'm so glad we are here at this cabin. It's going to rain today, which means no excursions to local wineries or hiking in the National Park or shopping (without money shopping is no fun anyway) in Downtown Charlottesville.

I'm glad it's going to rain.
Because I just want to wear yoga pants all day and drink black coffee, and write.

There is SO much in my head, in my heart, that I'm a spaz at home. I don't have much time for exhaling, and when I do, it's like there is so much built up, an hour of time like this can go by, and I have nothing actually written to show for it.

I have several freelance writing opportunities there for the taking, waiting for me to have/make time. I have two pages of blog post ideas, but nothing to show for it.

Writing is such an exercise for me.
I must warm up.
Then work out.
Then, I like to cool down.
Then, I feel amazing.

It's emotional. It's raw. I have to strip away all 47 of my to do lists and close all my social media, and quiet my mind, then the words pour out.
And there's no greater feeling than the words pouring out.

Because when I have to make the words up, it isn't good. It isn't real, it feels forced, and fake and like coffee with Splenda and skim milk. Which used to be good, but now it's not good.

I'd rather have it black, thank you very much.

We're having friends over for lunch today, and I'm very much looking forward to that. But I want to spend the rest of this time clearing out my mind, so that I am back at that place where I have something to write, something to give.