Seeking Higher Ground & Following Random and True Directions

IMG_3112. keep your heart pointing trueBoots here on this beautiful summer day . . . pointing my compass and seeking Higher Ground today . . . and keeping my heart pointed true.

It seems as if some days my compass gets swiveled around and I find myself turning around in circles.  I think we all experience this from time to time.  Not knowing which way our compass is pointing or from which direction the winds are blowing or how high the river is going to rise.   There are so many uncertainties in life.

It is when I am out in the wilderness and trying to figure out which way to go on a “gently-used” (read invisible) trail when I most have to rely on my compass.  And on my internal compass — my intuition — as well.  There is something about aligning my intuition with the jittering of the compass needle that makes me feel ultra-alive.  Add to this a tiny and disconcerting sliver of the great unknown that lies ahead . . . you have a pretty good recipe for being in the moment.

Well, I am here now clacking away on the keyboard, so that must mean that I chose the right and true directions out there in the woods.   Still, this is not to say that I haven’t arrived home or back in camp without some mean bruises, scrapes, blackberry scratches, and nettle stings to remind me that lucky as I am to feel “found” again, it wasn’t without some discomfort along the trail.

Like life, we don’t really ever know if we have chosen the perfect directions . . . those directions that lead us to a sense of home, unscathed and happy.  There are always going to be forks in the trail, creeks to be forded, blazes that are tricky to find.

I once asked an old-timer, this tough Bull of the Woods, why blazes were cut so high up on the trees?  He answered me with one word, “Snow.”  Blazes, the recognizable scars you see high up on trees, are marked to establish a true line.  This line is run by what is called a “random and true” line method, ensuring that the trail can be followed through the woods.  Blazes are cut high up on the tree to allow for them to read during the wintertime’s heavy snowfall.

If you have ever been on skis or snowshoes in the forest in the dead of winter, you know how amazingly well a trail can hide in the wintertime.  So, a resounding Yay! for those who have gone before us with the foresight of cutting those blazes high for us — no matter how high the snow gets, we are still able to follow that random and true line.  [And I sometimes wonder if this foresight was learned partially by some tough-love from Mother Nature.]

So, if you are going to be relying on blazes, you have to take your eyes off the ground and look up for that random and true line that will lead you back home.

All of this to say, the change-ability of life is inevitable.  But the compass, if I trust it, will point in the direction that will determine my new destiny. When I think on it, true directions aren’t always going to be the Easy Path in life.  Sometimes it means doing what I have to do, reminding myself on a daily basis that this current paradigm is temporary.  That sometimes life kind of sucks and I feel kind of lost . . . and it’s up to me to get out my compass, line up with true north, and head off on a new adventure that will lead me out of my current temporary into a whole new feeling of temporary.

I listen to this music and see all of the collaborative effort that went into its recording.  It takes a lot of energy to make stuff like this happen.  I respect it. And I also respect the effort that people put into reaching a higher level of consciousness.

Here is some great music for you to check out!  Click on the images/links below.  Have a fantastic day, listen to good music, follow the blazes, and head in your true directions.

Keep your heart pointed true.

Songs Around The World (CD + DVD)

http://amzn.to/2aPFLSX

PFC 2: Songs Around The World [CD/DVD Combo]

http://amzn.to/2aPFpvh

PFC3: Songs Around The World [CD/DVD Combo]

http://amzn.to/2aPFfUK

Playing For Change: Peace Through Music: DVD

http://amzn.to/2aSQf0E

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Hello again . . . Boots is back in the saddle! Oh, and tip your barista!

Greetings to all of you good people!  I, Boots the Badass Coffee Babe, have been away — out on a trail gig — and have missed our coffee connection!  The past weeks, I’ve been out in the woods, away from any form of Internet communication, and restoring my Inner Outdoors Girl.  It has felt great!  And now I am back, so we can catch up on coffee. Tell me . . . What have I missed?

While out on the trail, I ran into a hiker, Niccolo, who was a self-proclaimed coffee connoisseur from Italy.   We got to chatting about travel, trails, and coffee, and Niccolo said that he was curious about a lot of things in America but, once on the topic of Coffee, he asked why American baristas are so under-paid and under-respected.   Now, I might not speak Italian, but Niccolo was certainly speaking my language when it came to this conversation!

I really didn’t know how to answer to this — this not being one of those common questions that comes up when you start Coffee Talk.   I got to thinking about all of the things that American baristas have to be good at and their many multi-tasking duties.  I mean, just look at them.  They pull shots, steam milk, make eye contact with customers, do foam art, remember to ask about someone’s job interview, call back the next drink order to the register barista, and hand off your drink with a smile.   Impressive!

Now that I am back in town, I went to a busy coffee shop and observed the baristas in action.  Let’s take a look at what they have to do to serve an amazing cup of Joe.   A good barista . . .

  1. grinds coffee beans correctly so that the shots aren’t too long or too short
  2. tamps the grind into the filter perfectly
  3. pulls good shots
  4. times shots for high standards
  5. pumps liquid sugar into cups
  6. steams milk to satisfy requests (absolutely no foam, light foam, shaving-cream foam, dry cappuccino foam, bone-dry cappuccino foam)
  7. connects with the customers
  8. rinses shot glasses
  9. fills the bean hoppers
  10. continually re-adjusts the burr grinder to maintain perfect shots
  11. keeps everything clean and shiny
  12. re-stocks the refrigerators
  13. keeps the queue of drinks marching forward
  14. calls back drink orders
  15. works both the hot bar and the cold bar
  16. draws a cute smiley-face on certain cups
  17. asks about the family to the customers they know well
  18. smiles at you when s/he hands off your drink
  19.  . . . and I know that there are many other things . . .

This is a heck of a lot plates to keep spinning — all while maintaining a pleasant demeanor.   Now that I, Boots the Badass Coffee Babe, am back in town, I want to give a big shout-out to all of you baristas who work so hard to perfect your craft and to serve us fabulous beverages that many of us could never dream of making at home.

Just saying!  It makes me think of when I was young, pretty impressionable, flat broke, and just starting to work for someone who was eking out an existence on a history-laden homestead that he had inherited from someone who was as old as dirt.  The history of the place was pretty amazing and this old guy certainly knew it.  He was cocky and demanding and expected me to be his personal barista.   Well, I tamed that idea right out of him.

Sure, I was willing to haul the water from the lake and start the fire in the cookstove.  And I was even willing to grab a mug from the cupboard and set it to warm on the warming trivet.  But make the coffee?  Nuh-uh.  I knew that once I got roped into that lasso, I was going to be on call every morning at oh-dark-thirty to meet this buckaroo’s caffeine demands.

It’s weird to think that I wasn’t a coffee drinker yet.  I opted for healthful options that involved herbs and botanicals that now don’t even smell that good if I now catch a whiff of them brewing.   And this old-timer used the strangest contraption for making coffee.  He said it operated on a vacuum system  that involved some elaborate siphoning.  He expected me to learn how to use it and produce damned-good coffee, but I feigned ignorance (which was genuine) and confounded his expectations by making the very worst coffee (which was a ruse — I was smart enough to figure it out) that he swore — and I mean swore [#@$&*$$@!] had ever had the first day on the job.  I’ll give it up for the guy for having a colorful vocabulary.

I would call this a Big Life Lesson: There are benefits to Being Inadequate . . . this becoming a carefully-executed skill set of feigned ignorance that I happily applied to other areas of my professional life such as how to un-clog the paper in the copier machine on campus, how to clean the yuck out of the microwave in the break room, and how to sharpen a chain saw.   Some things are simply better left to those who feel more inclined toward responsibility.  And to showing others their higher state of abilities.   Thank God for different personality types is all that I am saying.

You’ve got to check out this old timer’s crazy way to make coffee below.   This gentleman’s contraption looked more Frankenstein-ian than this modern and sleek version, but it is the very same concept.  Who would have thought that you could extract coffee via a siphon?  Weird, right?  Go to Amazon by clicking on the images/links below:


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and how about this lower-priced one . . .

http://amzn.to/29SjLCz

AND . . . tip your barista.  As Niccolo pointed out, they are under-paid and under-tipped.   Your barista is partly responsible for your morning happiness . . . why not reciprocate with at least a very nice smile and a “Good job!”

Oh, and one more thing.  I am so excited to be back, I can’t stop adding coffee stuff!

Check out this new organic, Arabica coffee I found on Amazon.  I am going to try it out!  The name alone sells me — Happy Belly — let alone that it is organic, sustainably sourced and Fairtrade!


http://amzn.to/2aro1e5

PREMIUM COFFEE BY HAPPY BELLY

spacerHappy Belly makes artisan, small batch roasted blends like those found at your favorite neighborhood coffee shop, conveniently delivered to your doorstep. From growing and harvesting to roasting and packaging, ensuring our coffee’s freshness and flavor is our main focus.

Life is a darn good event.  Have fun, drink coffee, and tip your barista!!

 

 

 

I can’t feel my face!

. . . before coffee . . . after coffee . . .

Happy Whatever-it-is Day!

Check out these really sweet dog-coffee mugs below.  I think Dean Russo’s art is beautiful and his sweet sentiments about people’s best friend say it all.

Tree-Free Greetings Extra Large 20-Ounce Ceramic Coffee Mug, Sweet Boy Themed Dean Russo Dog Art


http://amzn.to/28SyDoV

Tree-Free Greetings Extra Large 20-Ounce Ceramic Coffee Mug, Wag Heart Themed Dean Russo Dog Art

http://amzn.to/28S5ANc

Tree-Free Greetings Extra Large 20-Ounce Ceramic Coffee Mug, Perfect World Themed Dean Russo Dog Art

http://amzn.to/28Tc0gn

Tree-Free Greetings Extra Large 20-Ounce Ceramic Coffee Mug, Beware Heart Stealer Themed Dean Russo Dog Art

http://amzn.to/28WPesy

Life is a lively event.  Pet your dogs and tell them that you love them, drink coffee, and get to it.

What’s stopping you?

xox Boots the Badass Coffee Babe

 

[image of dogs on beach:  http://barefootcolo.com/%5D

Happy Whatever Day It Is of the Week . . . the Relativity of Friday

Boots the Badass Coffee Babe here.  And aiming from the hip like a shooting star to the center of life’s love and happiness on this Friday morning.

As determined by the calendar, today is Friday.  Or is it?  Do we assign a Day-Feeling to Time?  For some of us, it’s our real-time Friday.  For some of us, it’s our Tuesday.  Or Thursday.  Or Sunday.  We measure the days based on our perception of Relativity & Fun . . . Availability & Freedom . . . Choice & Priority . . . all relative to the Grand Scheme of How Life Flows.

That’s the thing about living a Lifestyle.  It’s different from Work.  And whether or not it’s my Friday or whether or not I am Lifestyling or Working, it’s always a great day to be part of the Human Race.

Enjoy today’s moments.  If you even take 3 minutes and 22 seconds to pause and just partake in some relaxation, isn’t that a rewarding way to extend some appreciating into your Day?  This video by OK Go is just plain fun. [OK Go makes the best videos!]  Enjoy the fancy of it all and Happy Friday-Feeling to you!

This band deserves a huge shout out for their ingenuity and commitment to spreading FUN with their music!  Click on their album below:

http://amzn.to/1V2cjF7

And . . . because the Weekend for Writing is ahead and because I can’t resist adding awesome things that strike my brand of Fanciful, check out this handmade saddle-bag style purse and journaling items.  This next week, we are going to be digging into the 4 Fundamentals of Coffee along with some journaling fun.  Me?  I love journaling!!!!!  And it’s always nice to have a stylish way to transport my ideas from one inspiring place to the next.

I l-o-v-e this bag!

Firu-Handmade Women Vintage Style Genuine Brown Leather Cross Body Shoulder Bag Handmade Purse

It’s under $50!

http://amzn.to/1OuJIvQ

Small 1842 Poetry Leather Blank Book

And this poetry book is only $8.59!


http://amzn.to/2684VA8

Antique Feather Copper Pen Stem Metal Nibbed Pen Writing Quill LL-14

And this ultra-cool quill set is only $29.99 . . . isn’t it super-inspiring to get you writing those sacred thoughts of yours down in your new journal?


http://amzn.to/1V2cTmb

Life is a lively event.

Do some carpe-ing diem-ing & free writing, drink some coffee, and get to it.

What’s stopping you?

xox Boots

Open Your Eyes to a Good Day

anytime is coffee timeAnytime is coffee time.  And anytime is a good time to open your eyes.  To look around.  To feel grateful and appreciative. To be inspired by the beauty that is all around.

Today is Thursday and it’s a day to kick up your heels and have some fun.  It’s a day to explore and to laugh out loud and to smile at every single person whom you encounter on your walk in the park.  A day to mention to someone something that they do well — something that might otherwise go unnoticed.  You answer the phone with a very pleasant tone.  You are always so good about replacing the ink cartridges.  I like the way you open the door for people to pass ahead of you.  Thank you for always emptying the dishwasher.  Little things that speak to the bigger Inside Things.  Anytime is a good time to express your appreciation to someone, anyone, everyone.

Have a GREAT & FANTASTIC day today!  Savor the moment.  Please, take 9:39 today to watch this amazing, unfolding TED talk by Louie Schwartzberg on Nature, Beauty, and Gratitude.  It is a life changer.  Truly.  Enjoy.  So beautiful.

Life is such a lively event.  Savor and appreciate, drink coffee, and get to it.

What’s stopping you?  xox Boots

These coffee mugs make me happy.  The art, the colors, the message . . .  all combined give me happiness.  What a message to start the morning with . . . and to carry with you on your way out the door to your next adventure of the day.   Enjoy the journey!

Karma, by Stephen Joseph KA140957 Happy Trails Fox Travel Mug, Multicolor

http://amzn.to/28RNLBI

Karma, by Stephen Joseph KA140929 Happy Trails Sugar Skull Travel Mug

http://amzn.to/28OEwUb

Karma, by Stephen Joseph KA140976 Happy Trails Owl Travel Mug, Multicolor

http://amzn.to/28TdhGY

Spoontiques Positive Affirmations Travel Mug, White

http://amzn.to/28TcWnK

Milky Way Love of the Galaxies . . . Happy Father’s Day

firewood-pileBoots here.  Your Badass Coffee Babe shooting like a star from the hip today and telling it like it is.  With the advent of Father’s Day, I am reminded of many things . . . memories of life-in-general this past year concerning my own father . . . times that now feel to be long ago and quite far away.  I was thinking back to the summer when my father came to visit me up at my cabin and how, bored out of his gourd with no television for a week, he split enough firewood to last me nearly a month.  I can still see that stack of split wood and that look of satisfaction of a job-well-done on his face, happy he was leaving me, his daughter, with the gift of time away from the woodshed splitting block.

These memories of life, love, firewood, and family have an odd way of percolating to the surface.  During my time of living in that cabin, located on that effortful and toilsome trail, I met my share of fathers who wanted to share their love of the great outdoors with their sons and daughters.   You can tell a lot about human nature by the way a parent introduces adversity and misery to their children regarding clouds of mosquitoes, leaking tents, smoky fires, forgotten necessities, and squirrel-pillaged rations.  One father who stands tall in my memory is a man I  call Caroline-y, a father who came huffing and puffing up the trail with his son Bud on one Especially-Rainy Day.

I was holed up in the cabin and feeling pretty darned certain that no one – and I mean no one – was going to be coming up the trail in all of that rain to ask about fishing, boats, horses, directions, or firewood.  No, it was Flat Out Raining — a classic Pouring-Down-Your-Tin-Pants-Straight-Into-Your-Boots kind of rain.  The kind of rain that says to you that you might as well just forget about the woolly sweater, the slicker, and the rubber poncho and just stay inside.

Anyone who has spent any time working out in the woods knows that, at a certain point, trying to “stay dry” under a steaming, streaming rubber poncho actually feels wetter than just going with the Literal Flow from the Heavens Above and accepting the fact that you are going to be soaked to the skin anyway.  It might as well be God’s good replenishing water, rather than your own poncho-created condensation.  There is some Measure of Liberation in just going with the way Nature is funneling life’s elements your way.  Sometimes life is best if you don’t fight it and you just go with the Flow.

monarch wood stoveSo, there I was.  Rain drumming on the metal roof of the cabin.  My feet propped up on the oven door and sitting just an easy arm’s length from my cup of Joe that was staying nice and hot on the stove-side warming tray.  It was a day for getting caught up on my reading and for thinking about getting started on some chores that were on the list for Needing Doing that day.

I was dreaming my way through a supply catalog when the dogs came barreling out from behind the cookstove.  They went tearing out the woodbox door– setting up a violent ruckus.  I wondered, Who the hell would be out on the trail on a day like today? 

Now the back door of my cabin didn’t set much more than 10 or so yards from the trail – the close proximity of which didn’t bother me much.  I lived on a lake in the middle of a wilderness area surrounded by Absolute Nowhere that was only accessible by float plane or by trail.  The trail to the lake was steep and had a way of winnowing out those who weren’t interested in mastering some serious elevation gain and the general hiking population, at best, was quite sparse.

The back door of the cabin was also my front door, as I never quite finished building the necessary deck and steps that would connect the Hanging Front Door to Terra Firma.  You can bet that I kept the “front door” barricaded and locked from the inside, not wanting Anybody’s Fool to go through it and then ass over teakettle onto the dirt below, mistakenly thinking it was the nearest exit to the Bank.  (The Bank being the Outhouse, thusly named by my illustrious predecessor.)

I suspected that the dogs might be barking at the arrival of the horses.  Now these horses were a wily lot.  They ran loose on the Rarity of Open Pasture – meaning that their only “fences” were purely topographical features – and it was a rip-roaring, two-dog-alarm  when they tried to sneak in to the homestead through the criss-crossing game trails that led to the salt lick from the Bird Meadow.  These horses were smart — smart enough to resort to covert actions, knowing that the odds were good to pretty-damned-great that they would be caught and captured and then put to work packing supplies up the hill from down below.

The sneaky devils generally came stealing in at nighttime for salt – or at least as stealthily as a one-ton animal can manage.   The dogs barked with the same amount of gusto in the wee hours of the night upon their unannounced arrival, but I never felt obligated to go chasing horses at night – beings as their eyes pick up light much better in darker conditions than we humans can.  The odds were certainly with them escaping against me capturing, what with me giving chase and tripping through the understory with a flashlight in one hand and a halter and oat bucket in the other.  It was quite the scene to be certain, me stumbling and cussing and them flicking their tails and horse-laughing their rumps off.

Well, the dogs were barking beyond their usual call of Advance, dear woman!  The evasive equines are noshing up at the salt lick!  (In case you hadn’t surmised, I had some seriously eloquent canines.)  I had no choice but to remove my backside from my place of comfort by the fire and check out the barking brouhaha.

I looked out the window and saw no sign of the Sneaky Devils up at the barn trying to get a nip of salt before bolting back into the forest.  What I did see were two people, one adult and one kid who must have been about 10 years old, standing in the middle of trail looking puzzled by the anomalous sight of the cabin.  They looked more soaked than two otters who just came in off the river for a spot of dry refreshment.  The father was hacking and wheezing like a dedicated smoker and the kid just looked like a miserable human being who was not rightly into this whole idea of male bonding on this particular day of inclement weather.

I grabbed my slicker from the hook on the back of the door and went outside to ask them if they were lost.  They explained that they were camped down below and saw this trail and wanted to see where it led.  I think that their use of the collective pronoun we was a stretch, as the kid just kept his head down – trying to keep the stream of rain that was coming off his yellow-blonde forelock from getting in his eyes.  I knew that feeling of Rain Misery and I felt for the kid.

I heard myself asking them if they wanted to come get warm in the cabin.  The dad started to say Nah so I added, “I have water on to boil.  I can make some cocoa for your wet friend here.”  They came in and crowded around my table-for-one – a slab of wood hinged to the wall of the cabin that I pulled up and set on those rare occasions when I wanted to eat on a flat surface – generally preferring a chair leaned up next to the warmth of the stove.

They took off their wet gear — super-soaked cotton hoodies — and I went outside to give their gear a good shake and a wring before hanging it to dry on the pegs behind the stove.  Having resumed their Station behind the cookstove, the dogs gave me forlorn looks each time one of them got pinged by a drop of water from the soaked hoodies.  Truth: You just have to respect the look that a wronged and faithful dog can give you, so I moved the hoodies down the peg rail to a spot that did not promise future misery for the pups.

I made cocoa-for-two and managed to find a bag of wrinkly-looking marshmallows in the pantry that some long-ago camper had left with me in trade for the use of my ax.  The kid didn’t mind that the marshmallows were old and seasoned.  It was evident that he was simply grateful to be somewhere warm and dry.

The dad did all of the talking – giving up a string of bullshit stories from when he lived in the woods in the good state of North Caroline-y.  That’s how he pronounced it: Caroline-y.  He talked about the wood smoker that his Pap (Yes, he even said Pap) used to cure the venison and how they used to chop wood the same way I did.

It was midway through his yarn spinning that Caroline-y pulled a Milky Way candy bar out of his shirt pocket and started to eat it.  Right there in front of the kid.  The kid spoke aloud — which surprised me — as he hadn’t said a word up until then, and he asked his pap if he could have some.  Caroline-y just gave him an appraising look and kept chawing away on his Milky Way while saying, “Sorry, Bud.  Ate yours, Bud.”

The cabin grew a clumsy feeling – like a low-pressure Cloud of Awkward blowing through.  It could have been the way I froze when I looked at Bud, who was looking mighty embarrassed for taking the chance to ask aloud.  I walked over to Bud and plopped an extra handful of marshmallows into his still-steaming cocoa and said, “You’ve got to help me eat these, Bud.  I’m allergic to marshmallows.”

The story really doesn’t go anywhere beyond this point, other than the rain stopping and me handing their more-dry-than-when-they-arrived hoodies back to them and pointing them back down the trail to their camp.  For some reason that line of Caroline-y’s stayed with me though: Sorry, Bud.  You ate yours, Bud.

In the years since, I have worked my thoughts all the way around that Sorry Bud line.  I understand the concept of Real Life Tough Love and teaching young ones the value of not always being handed every darned thing that they might want or demand.  Truth: the kid had eaten his own Milky Way on the trail.  And just because you opt to consume your portion first, doesn’t mean that you deserve a share of someone else’s Delayed Gratification Efforts.  Justice has a way of prevailing in Life when it comes to this.  And it should.

But still . . .

Life does offer us a whole lot of Extenuating Circumstances as well.  Take a Soaking Rain for example.  Or Going Along with someone else’s Genius Plan to hike up to God-Knows-Where in a Drenching Downpour.  Or not being dressed right for the weather.  Or the thought that floats a little higher than Caroline-y’s brand of Sorry-Bud Justice is the one that says Why not say I love you without saying it out loud?  Just hand over half of the Milky Way and everyone wins.

As you can probably tell, my feelings tip to the side of Extenuating Circumstances and saying I love you without using words.  I think that there are always going to be other ways and times to teach the Real Life stuff to our loved ones.  Why not extend the Magic of the Completely Unexpected . . . the warmth and the dry and the hot cocoa in a stranger’s cabin in the middle of a crazy  downpour . . . just for that extra second longer and cut the damned candy bar in half and hand it over . . . all with a smile that says Ain’t life great?

I don’t know.  Lest you think that I am judging here . . . I’m not.  And I am.  I think of that day and I hope that Bud knows that there are people in the world that will have his back, even if it’s only with past-their-prime desiccated marshmallows.  Life has taught me that there’s a whole heck of a lot of grace to offer.  And to be universally fair, I am hoping that Caroline-y gets his share of grace, too.

51302134So that’s it from me, Boots the Badass Coffee Babe, on the brink of Father’s Day 2016.  This is the first year when I do not have the need to send a greeting card or make a phone call to my father, as he passed away this past December.  I think about the years when my Father’s Day cards were late and when I didn’t call on Sunday.  It makes a part of my heart droop to the sad side, and I hope that my father understands.

That’s the thing about my dad.  Even now in these Days of Loss, he lets me know.  There are days when I can feel him extending me the bigger half of a Milky Way candy bar that isn’t rightly mine to have, and I accept it with a hungry gratitude and a thankfulness in my heart.  If there is anything I have learned this past year it is this: Life turns on a dime.  And it spins on an axis that is provided by our parents who bring us into the world so we can learn about the dizzying gift of extended grace.

ardoch main streetIt feels odd and strangely marvelous to think that I have stood on the same planet all of these years past with my father, streaking through the Milky Way together . . . and I wonder.  Like looking up at a cloudless sky at all of its nightly glory, it’s hard not to wonder.  I stand out under the starlight and I see the faint remnants of our galaxy and I send Milky Way love to my father, a man whom I didn’t always understand yet I loved all the same.  And I know he loved me.

For all of those Milky Way moments of grace and love and forgiveness that you extended to me, I thank you, Dad.  From the bottom my heart and to the ends of the Universe.  Truly.  I wish you a Happy Father’s Day.

This song is the BEST.   Please, take a moment of quiet to listen.

Happy Father’s Day to all of you fathers out there.

Remember . . . life is a lively event that will spin on a dime.

Share your candy bar, drink coffee, and get to it.

What’s stopping you?

xoxox from your Badass Coffee Babe, Boots


http://amzn.to/2670R30

Dad, I raise a mug to you.


http://amzn.to/23fBdY0

A Cup of Coffee, Freebird Boots, & Lynyrd Skynyrd

Good morning, People!  Yay for Thursday!

Grab a cup of coffee, scroll to the bottom of this post, click on the music link courtesy of the good Lynyrd Skynyrd, and check out these Thursday boots.  The Sadie boots and Mabel boots are especially cute!

Life is a lively event.  Pull on some boots, drink some coffee, and get to it.

What’s stopping you?

good morning coffee cup

These boots need no special occasion . . . they are for everyday fun.  Happy shopping!

Freebird Women’s Sabra Boot

http://amzn.to/1WOgMkU

Freebird Women’s Sadie Boot

http://amzn.to/1UwILna

Freebird Women’s Mabel Boot

http://amzn.to/1PuXDNd

Freebird Women’s Phoenix Low Boot

http://amzn.to/1sHhOmd

Freebird Women’s Belle Boot

http://amzn.to/1UwK7y6

Freebird Women’s Chief Boot

http://amzn.to/1UwKlFE

Freebird Women’s Sammi Boot

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A Love & Happiness Saturday morning to you!

saturday. love and happinessLove and happiness . . . this picture makes me feel good inside.  It makes me think of a rundown little honky tonk in a tiny town . . . one of those towns with crooked streets and more taverns than there were bakeries, grocery stores, and churches combined.  It was the place where my sister, Ranger, and I used to go dancing every Friday night.  Friday night dancing . . . we wouldn’t have missed it for all the Joe in Latin America, Africa, and the Asia Pacific combined — the music was just that good.

At the end of every night, the band would be casing up their instruments and the music man, Dan the Band Man, used to plug “Love and Happiness” into the speakers to quell our demand for “More!  More!”  His intent, I am guessing, was meant to settle us foot stompers down from a rousing rendition of “Congo Square” or “Love Shack.”

Well, after a night of dancing in this establishment, I can tell you that a Saturday-morning-after-Friday-night-dancing cup of Joe was just what I needed.  This place was a hoot and a half, and I am feeling a story coming on.  Yep.  I can just feel it.

For your Saturday fun and enjoyment, here is some music for you to enjoy.  I am dedicating these two tunes to Dan the Band Man and to Orville Johnson, who can play the best cover of “Congo Square” I have ever danced to — wishing them happy music and good coffee.

Love this version of Al Green’s Love and Happiness!

. . . and I have to add Sonny Landreth into this mix . . . so awesome!  All you have to do is listen to the first riffs of this song, and you know you are going to love it!

 

Life is a lively event.  Listen to music, drink coffee, and get to it.

xox Love,

Boots the Badass Coffee Babe