It was chilly yesterday: I made sweet potato and black bean chili for lunch, and we (Maura, Mz, Lucinda, and Laura) had to bundle up to stay warm, water-coloring outside.
I painted this cappuccino for an old high school pal who's in prison. (She got on the wrong side of a bad addiction.)
She wrote that she makes instant coffee in her hot pot, drinks it with powdered creamer and dreams of brewed coffee.
You can't mail watercolor paintings or coffee (or anything that could be mixed with illegal substances) to prison, so I printed a copy for her.
I painted this cappuccino for an old high school pal who's in prison. (She got on the wrong side of a bad addiction.)
She wrote that she makes instant coffee in her hot pot, drinks it with powdered creamer and dreams of brewed coffee.
You can't mail watercolor paintings or coffee (or anything that could be mixed with illegal substances) to prison, so I printed a copy for her.
When I was in the military, I made tea with an immersion heater in a cup, and dreamed of the real stuff, loose leaves, real pot, real kettle. Food and drink are what we most miss in those situations, and we dream the flavor in.
ReplyDeleteA pal who was a Vietnam vet said he and his platoon used to sit around at night and simply name things they missed from home, like "blue jeans," "hamburgers with pickles," etc.
ReplyDeleteNext time I see him, I'm going to ask him about tea and coffee!