i hope she was wearing her helmet

i’m drinking my first cup of coffee on a too-early morning. but not just any coffee — it’s zamboni coffee.

when mo and i first became a couple, we set out to find the World’s Best Coffeemaker, that being the sort of thing i always envisioned newlyweds doing. after an exhaustive search (googling “World’s Best Coffeemaker”), we acquired the zamboni.

the zamboni had everything you could hope for in a coffeemaker — its name started with the letter z, and it had an elephant on it.

we were the perfect threesome. i didn’t bother asking mo which of us she would choose if it ever came to that. duh. the years went by like late-night refills at a dank 1970s denny’s after a missed deadline.

and then something happened. mo and the zamboni had a falling out. i never asked what happened. one day it was just gone. no note, no nothing.

we ended up with an espresso gizmo and a motel coffee pot and an Evil Keurig, but the joy the three of us had shared was lost.

and then.

i was hanging out with mike and laura a couple weeks ago, and the zamboni’s twin was sitting in a pile of Stuff. they had gotten a zamboni shortly after we did, since it’s the World’s Best Coffeemaker. but they’re moving and have Too Many Things. i snatched it up.

i smuggled it across the border and set it up at home. mo stared at it the next morning, thinking something was odd, but she hadn’t had her coffee yet, so i don’t think she’s certain the zamboni was ever gone.

now the three of us are back together. it’s a spring morning and i’m drinking a second cup. mo is telling me about a dream she just had in which BK, our cat, was riding away on a bicycle with another cat, which worried her because she didn’t know if BK could find her way back. mo has great dreams. catnip, i suspect. i figure bike-riding cats have gps, but it’s her dream, so whatever.

we drink more coffee while discussing lyle lovett’s cowboy boots. The zamboni sits contentedly, waiting for the next round. mo needn’t ask me which of them i will choose if it ever comes to that. duh.

BK basks in the sun, plotting her escape.

i hope she wears her helmet.

About gary

no sock monkeys were harmed in the making of this blog.
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