I was a young, impressionable college student who didn't even realize she was looking for the seasonal
coffee cups of her dreams.
Then I saw these.
It was love at first sight.
The love grew over the years with the addition of a Christmas cup from one of my students at my first teaching job,
a Valentine's cup as a new mom
and a set of springtime cups that I shared with my husband, to his overwhelming delight.
I bought this ego booster for myself when I started home schooling:
and dear Mrs. A got me this little harvest beauty.
I thought my joy would be complete with the addition of a WINTER as opposed to Christmas cup
but the joy only increased when I decorated my own little lovely with my favorite flower.
I was happy in my cups. I marked the changing of the seasons by bringing out the appropriate little cup, filling it with coffee and thinking how much better it tasted from a cup that corresponded to the calendar.
I would think the same thing as I refilled the chosen little cup, and refilled it again.
That is when the seeds of discontent were sown.
Slowly my eye began turning to big, muscular mugs. I began to purchase them.
I would still get my pretty cups out as decorations and for guests who hadn't yet turned to the dark side. But the cups would sit, empty, while I avoided their gaze and filled the full-capacity mugs.
I'd like to say this story has a happy ending. That I saw the error of my ways and returned to the cups of my youth.
Alas. Once a coffee lover tastes from a mug, there is no going back to her cups.
Because beauty isn't so important.
It's what's inside that counts.