Coffee you dream about

This is coffee you dream about. Nestled in College Hill is a quaint little coffee shack that you just have to smell to believe. Each cup brewed fresh, the coffee is so intensely flavorful that I wouldn't dare add cream or sugar. The Fresh Roast Coffee Company, at the corner of Clifton and Douglas, is right on the College Hill running route, which is how my friend Kristen and I discovered it.

We were returning from our Saturday morning long run. After 11 miles, we'd drained our Powerade, but saw a water cooler set up on the street near the coffee shop. A sign said, "If you think our water is good, you should taste our coffee." We refilled our water bottles, grateful for the cool drink on the increasingly hot and humid morning. As we finished our last mile, we decided we should change our Panera plans and instead try Fresh Roast Coffee Co. to say "thanks" for the water. We wanted to support someone who supported runners.

So after our run we drove back to High Voltage. Kristen, who's not really a coffee drinker, ordered an iced coffee drink. After talking with the owner for about five seconds, I mentally nicknamed him the "coffee nazi" and felt quite comfortable ordering whatever he recommended. He suggested his special house blend, which he said was made from coffee from Colombia, Indonesia, and somewhere else, I think. I ordered a "MegaWatt" cup (which is a large. "Watt" is small, or "tall" for Starbucks fans, "Kilowatt" is medium). The order took at least 10 minutes, which we didn't mind because we refilled our water bottles and worked on rehydrating as we sat in his little patio area and watched other runners go by.

And it was so worth the wait. Incredible flavor. Smooth. Hot and fresh (I'll drink hot coffee nearly anytime).

After the next long run, we hardly needed to discuss our post-workout plans. We were back. The coffee was even better than I'd remembered.

Then I went to Colorado and hyperextended my knee. No running for me. A few weeks ago on Friday, I asked Kristen, who is still training for the marathon, where she was planning to run in the morning. College Hill, she said.

"What time do you think you'll be at the coffee shop?"

Somehow it didn't feel right to just drive there, so I rode my bike and met her there--took about 40 minutes. Good workout, good company, good coffee. Hard to beat.

To be published

In February, 2008, Dave took the boys skiing and Laurel and I geared up for a gal's weekend at home. I decided she and I would scrapbook. Being our third child, Laurel's representation in any of our photo albums was woefully inadequate, which was an utter shame, since in my completely unbiased opinion she had been unquestionably the cutest three-year-old ever. Here's proof:

But now she was seven, old enough to do a little scrapbooking of her own, and at the perfect age for "Anne of Green Gables," which my Canadian friends had introduced to me at college. I requested the 10-hour DVD series from the library to watch while we worked, and we were looking forward to our mother-daughter weekend.

As I should have guessed, the request took longer than expected and the DVDs were stuck in transit over the weekend, so we headed to Blockbuster and picked up a bunch of other favorites.

I couldn't resist "Music and Lyrics" with Hugh Grant and Drew Barrymore. The beginning pseudo-'80s music video is hilarious, and I love that Grant, the washed-up star of the fictitious group Pop! is booked for a 1987 class reunion (that's my year!), but I really love how the entire movie talks about the creative process as Alex Fletcher and Sophie Fisher try to put together music AND lyrics. The movie is chock-full of great lines, but the best one doesn't come up on any movie quotes websites. Someday I will have to watch it again and write down word for word when Alex tells Sophie that she has too much talent to let anyone stop her from standing.

Then we took a Jane Austen trip with "Emma," "Pride and Prejudice," and "Sense and Sensibility." On a slower part in "Sense and Sensibility," which has our man Hugh Grant in the male lead, Laurel said, "I keep waiting for him to sing, 'Pop! Goes my heart." I had a good laugh at that.

After reveling in Jane Austen's stories, I couldn't resist finally seeing "Becoming Jane," the story of author Jane Austen's life.

Sometime during the weekend, Laurel developed a high fever, so we were completely home bound. We kept the DVDs coming.

We watched "Little Women," enjoying the story of four sisters growing up in New England during the Civil War. I'd read "Little Women" plus a number of other books by Louisa May Alcott growing up.

Then we got the message that "Anne of Green Gables" was ready for pick-up from the library, and we were transported to beautiful Prince Edward Island and captivated by the story of a red-headed, spunky orphan girl who finds a home in Avonlea with Marilla and Matthew Cuthbert. We loved Anne's dramatic rendition of "Lady of Shallot," and regretted her refusal to acknowledge Gilbert for saving her from drowning.

By the time we'd worked our way to the final DVD, the boys regrettably were home from skiing. When Anne gets her package from the post office and it's her BOOK, her book of stories about the people of Avonlea, and she takes it to Gilbert, who had encouraged her to write it in the first place, but is now terribly sick on his deathbed until she shows it to him and she tells him she loves him and he gets a new lease on life, I am a complete mess.

"Hey look, Mom's crying!" I look up, wishing Colorado had been a few more states away. Of course I'm crying. Don't they realize Anne finally got her BOOK PUBLISHED? Then Laurel, who previously had been my comrade-in-arms tattles on me.

"She's cried at the end of every movie," the little snitch says.

And I realize we've had a common theme. The climax of nearly every movie was a book being published. And yes, I cried when Jane Austen became a published author, celebrated at a book signing, the center of attention in a roomful of people listening to her read selections from her works. Yes, I cried when Jo received in print the stories she labored on of her and her sisters' lives and loves.

And although I was happy for Jane, Jo, and Anne, I couldn't help wondering, "What about me?"

"When will it happen for me?" And the scary one:  "Will it ever?"

Our Adventures with Tom Sawyer

I've always loved reading aloud to my kids. Now that they're older, I don't have many opportunities to do that, so one of my favorite vacation traditions is choosing a book to read to them while we're on the long road to Colorado or making the endless trek back through western Kansas.

This year I started reading "The Adventures of Tom Sawyer" before we ever hit Dodge City. It is a delicious book to read aloud, with the Southern dialect and lots of conversation. My boys were saying "I reckon" before the second stop for gas.

They liked the classic scene where Tom, forced to spend his Saturday whitewashing the fence, decides to pretend he's enjoying the work and eventually convinces all of his buddies to pay him marbles, beetles, or whatever "treasure" they had in their pockets for the privilege of helping him.

We camped by a lake, so Caleb, who's always loved fishing, took the first opportunity to put his line in. However, Harrison caught the first fish big enough to keep. Caleb, who also loves knives and collects them, begged Harrison to let him clean the fish. We laughed at the parallels to Tom Sawyer, and told Harrison he should have made Caleb include some marbles, or maybe a beetle or tick in the deal.

When a late afternoon shower forced us into the trailer for an hour, the kids asked me to read. When the rain stopped, we continued around the campfire.

Once we were out of the mountains and headed home, we got caught up in the drama of Tom and Becky being lost in the cave. I finished the book around Garden City, I think, with still plenty of daylight.

So we talked about our trip, and I asked each kid what they liked the best. Harrison said he liked hearing "The Adventures of Tom Sawyer." Well, Harrison, I don't know if I'd go that far. We certainly could have saved a lot of money by going to the library instead of hauling all of our four-wheelers to Colorado. But it was nice to hear.

The Dream Vacation

"Wouldn't it be neat to get a couple more four-wheelers? Then our whole family could ride together," my husband, Dave, said.

It was 2002, we were relaxing at our campsite, gazing at the mountains. At the time, we had only his 400EX, so he'd spent his mornings taking one boy out on a ride through the mountain trails, returning to camp for lunch, then taking the other one out for the afternoon. I'd spent the time with Laurel and the alternate boy, exploring around the lake and holding down camp.

 At the time, I wondered how we would ever manage to purchase not one, but two more four-wheelers (I'm practical like that). Dave's the dreamer, and I hang on for the ride. But for whatever reason--maybe I was tired of sitting at camp while they were riding over mountain passes--this is one vision I caught.
Two years later, we went back to O'Haver Lake in Colorado. This time my brother David and his wife, Jenny, and also his friend, Mike, went with us. David brought his quad, and we had acquired a used four-wheeler and brought my Dad's, so if everyone doubled up with a kid, we could all go on a ride.

In the six years since, we've acquired a few more quads and made numerous trips to the Little Sahara sand dunes near Waynoka, Oklahoma. When the boys' interest seemed to be waning a few years ago, Dave considered selling them all. The only reason I didn't agree to getting rid of them all was the hope that we could take them to the mountains one more time.
This summer, we did.