Time is indeed fluid

Standard

‘Coffee Time flows smoothly into Wine Time’

When I was a kid you’d see signs advertising Dr. Pepper in places like gas stations or in the drugstore (where there was a soda fountain and racks of ten-cent comic books). These signs would say “10-2-4,” and it meant that you should give yourself an energy boost at those times by quaffing a bottle of Dr. P.

Kenya dig it? Dude Man loves Dr. Pepper, but he loved Stoney even more. Too bad you can only get it in Africa

Well, around my house these days we don’t limit ourselves to sipping occasions at ten, two and four.

I’m basically drinking something all the time.

Many mornings I reach for my trusty Incest Mug. You can get the story about why it’s called that right here

I roll out of bed, go for a “health-giving walk,” then grab one of my collection of mugs. Which I fill, and fill again. And sometimes fill again again. In between refills I Accomplish Chores. (When I retired, I decided that a Healthy Structure For My Day would be to do things I have to do in the morning and things I want to do in the afternoons.)

They used to call coffee the “Think Drink,” which might explain my winning NY Times entries, for which I received several of these mugs

I must say, though, that hopping up to presoak the whites or write an email to my senator or call FedEx to find out what the heck happened to my wallpaper can make me pretty absent-minded. Yesterday I left my beloved Incest Mug outside on the deck all day. When I found it I thought, “OMG, I’m turning into Dad.” Who famously left coffee mugs everywhere: not only on decks, but behind grills, under rose bushes, and once, famously, wedged into the notch of a tree. (Oh! Excuse me. That last example was what he did with the cordless phone.)

My Dad liked coffee at ANY time, day or night, even when everyone else had moved on to wine

When in The City I cheat and grab a Starbucks. Sometimes, as you can see below, my vente quad skim latte comes spiked with hilarity. Incidentally, I haven’t been in The City since March. I sure hope the barista who calls me “Elas” is doing okay.

Yup. That drink is for me, “Elas.” Reminds me of the story about the guy who said his name was “Marc with a ‘C’.” His cup came Sharpied with “Cark”

Like I mentioned, my Dad would pretty much stick to coffee, and pretty much all day long. Once, when I was fresh to New York and trying to impress my visiting parents, I took them to dinner at Windows on the World. Dad gave the waitress his order, ending with “and coffee.” When she brought his salad he asked, “Where’s my coffee?” She didn’t understand that he wanted that coffee not as a meal-capper, but right now.

This time Dad has his coffee simultaneously with his Rob Roy. And a cigarette

And the Petersons were even more all-coffee-all-the-time than my Dad’s family. They were Swedes, after all. And Swedes, they say, have the highest per capita intake of coffee in the world. (Also alcohol. Though somehow my teetotaling Grandparents P missed that memo.)

My Grampa P and my Mom with their bottomless coffee cups. Note how they are drinking coffee with food — and it is not breakfast food

Nope. What’s new in These Times is how seamlessly Coffee Time turns into Wine Time. Whereas there used to be a break between beverages — a break where one might, say, go to the Frick or the Film Forum or Bloomie’s or either one of the Mets (hmm, make that three Mets if you count baseball) — now there is no place to go, really, except for the kitchen. Where you switch your coffee mug for your wine glass.

Could this be wine my Mom is sipping on that couch while I, clad in sandals with socks, peruse a Doonsebury book? How scandalous

I don’t have photos of myself just hanging around puttering and reading and sipping wine, more’s the pity. But I do have some others I can share. Because why not? Wine is fun, and documenting people having a fine old wine time is almost as fun.

Now in this shot, I know that’s wine. I was Mom’s Scrabble victim. Yes, I had wine too. I needed it

Younger Middle Brother Roger and I sipping wine during the day, pre-pandemic. Well, it was a birthday. At least that was our excuse that particular afternoon

A wine-infused Thanksgiving back in The Days Before Social Distancing. Seeing this (sob) is sending me straight to the kitchen for some wine

OK. All good. Looking at this picture makes me feel (almost) as happy as drinking wine 

Some people might feel a little, well, guilty about segueing seamlessly between Coffee Time and Wine Time. Well, if you’re one of them, may I offer this clever way to divvy up your beverage day parts?

Cocktail Time. Nothing like a Manhattan to break the day into two clean time periods. Oh, if you feel guilty, knit a baby sweater while you sip

Amagansett, New York. June 2020

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