Category Archives: Travel Mug

The Sassy Sundries: My Week in Review

Phew! That was a week. Well, it’s time to return to the Sassy Sundries, my on-again, off-again weekly tally of events personal, political, and nonsensical. It’s a stolen idea, and I’d point you to the Dig’s web site, but they are going all Office Space on it right now. One hopes that the new incarnation will load faster and bear no resemblance to their ghastly new glossy covers.

Without further ado, here are the week’s Sassy Sundries:

WTF!!?? W, who as governor of Texas wouldn’t commute the death sentence of a man whose public defender SLEPT through his trial, and who supported the execution of the mentally retarded, and in some cases, the innocent (exculpatory evidence be damned!) thinks that a few years in the clink for a guy who lied about a matter of, I don’t know, national security, is too much? I wish that the brazenness of this Administration still shocked me, but it doesn’t. Minus Five

It’s W’s birthday today—an insult to good Cancer folk everywhere. The New Yorker has several illustrations for your enjoyment. I remember hearing somewhere that Morrissey sends the Queen dead vegetables on her birthday. Perhaps we need a similar tradition here. In any event, I’d like to wish W a very unhappy birthday. Minus Two

Anyone who has been reading this bloggy thing knows that my personal life has been one big, scary rollercoaster of late. I’m hanging on. You all have my gratitude for your support. Even for situation/Plus Ten for friendship

It looks like Rupert Murdoch will get his hands on the Wall Street Journal. The paper’s conservative editorial page is about to go fascist. Aren’t free-market conservatives supposed to resist monopolies? Here’s to hoping that something will intervene to stop the deal. Minus Four

BBC reporter Alan Johnson freed. World rejoices. Plus Five

It’s been twenty years since the Beastie Boys released License to Ill. I don’t think I can stay awake until Brooklyn anymore. But I’m still crafty. Even

OK, this is overdue, but the Roberts Court ended its disastrous first term, overturning precedent after precedent with Orwellian glee (racial integration is racist!). W has a legacy after all. Help us. Minus Five

Attempted suicide bombings in the UK set everyone on edge. Minus Five

Fourth of July a bit of a snoozeroo with the miserable weather and all. The big excitement came from being able to watch the Boston fireworks in bed. Plus Two

Thought I lost my all-time favorite travel mug. I found it sitting on the kitchen table and laughing at me. Not having to give up my attachment fills me with relief, but I have much to think about with new mantras from blog pals. Plus Ten

Total Plus: 27
Total Minus: 21

Last Time’s Total: + 18

Zen and the Art of Letting Go of Travel Mugs

UPDATE: Oh hurrah! Oh joy! I found my mug! Phew. I really wasn’t feeling all that Zen.

Rainy, sticky, bleak sadness—today feels just like a Monday (sorry, Dive, not all of us carry a Freak Flag for Mondays). Even worse, because I’m convinced that I lost my favorite travel mug to stupidity. Part of me holds out hope that I just left my mug on the kitchen table, but deep down I’m certain that I left my faithful friend on the roof of my car and drove off without it. My efforts to be Zen about this and realize that attachment to material possessions leads to suffering have me rolling my eyes at myself. Gimme my damn mug back, Universe!

If I have indeed lost my dear mug, it will be the end of an era for me. In my rant about Starbucks (see earlier link), I shared that my travel mug came from Coffee Connection, the late, mourned Boston coffee roaster taken over by Starbucks in the early 90s. I’d never really held onto a travel mug before, but I kept that one as a symbol of my resolve to resist the McDonaldization of coffee. Until coffee permeated its plastic pores, I used the mug for everything from coffee to booze to water to life itself. That mug was my appendage as a graduate student—people rarely saw me without it. Even my inspirational Nietzsche mug failed to displace its prominence in my life. That mug traveled with me to Montana and came home with me again. I’ve taken the mug to rock shows, anti-globalization rallies, and peace vigils. It made the transition from backpack to brief case, allowing me to start my work morning with something other than bland, flavorless, inorganic colored water. Although Fluff has accompanied me on my exotic travels, my travel mug has been my faithful friend through the drudgery of day-to-day life.

Over the years, the Coffee Connection logo faded from washing, and the handle for the lid chipped off. The lid has scratch marks galore, and I prefer to ignore those studies about the linings of travel mugs as terrariums for unknown life forms. Ugly as it became, my mug is my friend. Its heft and feel are as familiar to me as my own hand. And so although I know that I shouldn’t form attachments to material things, I have a very strong attachment to my travel mug. I want it back. I want to go home and find it sitting on my kitchen table, laughing at me. Or, at least find it, unharmed, close to where I parked my car. Alas, I fear I may have to accept that I finally lost it, find a new mug, and start a new chapter.

Anyone know any good mantras?