Hot Chocolate and Other Treats

Lots of links to fun things I enjoy

For breakfast I drink a mug of hot chocolate. And don't think it's some Swiss Miss sugar packet with dehydrated marshmallows. In fact, whatever type of upscale hot cocoa you are picturing, mine is more fancy than that. I use the most expensive milk known to man. It comes in a real, glass bottle (!) which you can return to the store for $2.50 per bottle. In other words, I'm paying an extra $2.50 per quart for this milk. The chocolate mix is from Italy and it's dark (read: not for children.) I put both of those bougie ingredients into a milk frother called a Miroco. As in, "Tah dah! Now this milk is delicious hot chocolate! It's a Miroco!" Then I heat up my hand crafted ceramic mug with an automatic hot water filter that's built into our leather-finished granite countertop. And when the hot chocolate is done frothing in the Miroco, I pour it in the heated mug and go sit with Jeff, who's drinking equally elaborate black coffee. If avocado toast can be blamed for an entire generation not having any savings, The Driskill's morning beverage habit is somehow (probably) responsible for the affordable housing crisis.  

my version of a 401K

Jeff likes to sit and talk, and talk and sit in the mornings. Because he works at night, there isn't a lot going on for him in the mornings. And unless I'm out of the house at work or playing tennis, he uses secret tractor beams to pull me onto the couch with him. His love language is quality time: drinking coffee/cocoa together, smoking cigars, reading, taking long walks to nowhere. 

Unfortunately my love language is "LET'S GET SOME SHIT DONE ALREADY!" and also, "CAN I THROW MOST OF YOUR BELONGINGS AWAY?" 

This past week we coincidentally both had breaks from work and, as you may remember, both of our children have moved out for now. So, we had a quiet stay-cation where we watched a couple seasons of Reservation Dogs on HULU which we highly recommend. Jeff worked on his vintage pickup truck (a 1970 Chevy), and I read a lot of essays and books. One day I made us homemade pizzas. We also enjoyed a dinner with friends, but did very little else, which was nice. 

Good things I read: An incredible piece in The New Yorker following one woman's years-long, tortuous journey to a prison camp in Syria; Steven King's memoir, On Writing, which is as incredible as everyone says it is! Samantha Irby's Quietly Hostile, very funny accounts of living with OCD and IBS. Her books are not for the faint of heart and best digested in smallish increments. Tommy Orange's new novel, Wandering Stars, which is eye-opening and enjoyable. His style is different from what I'm used to, but not hard to stick with. I'm easily frustrated by many older novels written in outdated prose, or translated works with long, compound sentences I have to reread over and over. This to explain that, although I love reading, I'm not a big smarty pants who can plow through a historic biography in one weekend, or someone who gets excited about reading the classics. 

I love easy-to-digest, good stories with great characters. And for me to read more than 3 pages in a row I need my surroundings to be very quiet. I need to be cozy and not shirking any responsibilities. Also there cannot --no way Jose-- be any mosquitoes present. 

Mom sent me the Stephen King book which inspired me to want to work on my mystery novel. But I'm also scared of it because it's so much work. I've been writing and editing it for many years now and it's still pretty rough. So, I don't hold out much hope for it to be done anytime soon. Stephen King mentioned a few times how he finishes his first drafts in a few months and that doesn't exactly make him relatable. 

So I'm writing this letter to you instead.

I sat down to write about my hot chocolate because I think it's fascinating how people don't really know what we each eat for breakfast. One day in a group of 4-5 ladies who see each other on a regular basis, we got on the topic of breakfast and each shared what we'd eaten that morning:

A reheated piece of pizza that was on the counter, coffee and half a banana

Leftovers from dinner out a few nights ago (not heated)

Nothing 

Coffee and a few cheezits

Hot Chocolate and an orange (that was me)

The saying goes, "Be kind to everyone; you never know what they are going through." I'm thinking we can add "...or what they had for breakfast" to that colloquialism. And if my friend's breakfast choices surprise me, imagine how shocked we'd all be to find out what drugs people take or how many miscarriages they've had or what they fight about. 

Learning these details has got to be part of the appeal of reality television. You get to be a witness to parts of life that are usually not exposed. We all know the shows are not really real, but they still have serious fans. Where do they get the cast members? Who is volunteering to be on these shows? 

I can't imagine much worse than starring in a reality show, having my life manipulated and displayed under those ugly fluorescent lights. What could be worse? Being crushed by my own roof after a huge earthquake? Having to eat a cheeseburger without pickles or ketchup? Finding out Donald Trump got elected again? Yuck. These are all too terrible to rank them. 

What about a travel show where we got to go around the world tasting chocolate? Maybe I would agree?? But they'd make me bleach my teeth and stop swearing probably. 

Two other things I've gotten into recently: Olivia Rodrigo's new releases on GUTS (spilled); and the NYTimes connections puzzles where you group 16 words into groups of 4 categories. Zane and I sat up in his room doing those for a long time when he was home for spring break. 

What are you looking forward to in your week ahead? What was your last fight about? Or, if you aren't ready to answer those questions, how about this: What did you have for breakfast today? You already know my answer!

Thanks for reading.

Love, Shannon