A New Mug for C.B.

Being a lawyer has driven Conservative Boy to drinking ... coffee, that is.

He managed to make it through high school (when many kids experiment with the dark stuff), late nights in college, and even the intense studying of law school without needing the caffeinated drink. In fact, he thought it—along with the other hot beverages I live on, like tea and hot chocolate—was absolutely, positively gross.

Then, one day after he'd been practicing law for a while, he decided to start drinking coffee. He didn't tell me this, mind you. But one morning not all that long ago I discovered my little coffee pot wasn't as full as it was supposed to be.

Ever since, Conservative Boy starts the morning with a mug of coffee and his signature breakfast sandwich from the toaster. He mixes up a concoction that's mostly sugar and milk with a bit off coffee, comes into my office if I'm working here, and slurps loudly. Then, often without a word, he marches back out of the office to eat his morning sandwich standing by the sink. I could note all of this down to the minute for you, if you'd like. He really is that much of a creature of habit.

From the first day he started drinking coffee, however, C.B. has had one complaint. He doesn't like my mugs.

They're either too small or have tiny handles or aren't hefty enough or are, in his mind, ugly. So he refuses to drink out of the lovely collection of handmade mugs I adore. He won't drink out of the random assortment of standard-size mugs collected over the years either. As long as they're clean, he only drinks out of Christmas mugs, which are closest to the size he deems necessary for coffee drinking.

So a while ago I started scouring secondhand stores for the perfect mug. I'd find one with the right-size handle, only it would be too delicate. Then the next wouldn't hold enough coffee, even though it had some weight to it.

I had actually decided to give up hope when, magically, while My Mom and My Sister and Auntie R and I wandered through Mission Mart, I found it.


THE MUG. The mug Conservative Boy has been waiting for.

It's heavy—so heavy I warned Conservative Boy he may want to alternate arms each morning or risk being strangely muscular only on one side of his body. (It weighs more than my big glass blender pitcher—I kid you not.)

It's massive in size, so much so that C.B.'s usual morning coffee serving only fills it up halfway.

It has the perfect handle for his manly grip.

And it says Rachel.

Hey, why not?