My New Mug

Today has been pretty good! Zack and I met with our  new service group for the first time this morning. We're now at the Galloways' home, and Neisha and the McOmbers go there too, so that should be pretty fun. I went on a return visit in Fircrest and had a really awesome mini doorstep study out of the Truth tract with a 9th grader named Elizabeth who could not be sweeter. She said she would find her Bible and read the tract and highlight things for next Saturday when I come back. I was like, "That sounds excellent!" And then I went on another doorstep study with Neisha, and that lady said she would like to start coming to the meetings. So we were both pretty happy.

At Starbucks, I finally found the Perfect Mug. I have been on a quest ever since I broke the Hello Cupcake mug months and months ago. I have a really cool Eddie Bauer mug that's yellow with a butterfly on it, but it can't go in the microwave. And I have the one we bought in a gift shop at the Grand Canyon on our honeymoon, but it has a crack in it and I really really don't want it to break. So I try not to use it much. I knew I needed a replacement, but since we don't have a lot of room in our cupboards for a huge mug collection, I have to be discriminating. I didn't want to buy just any old mug; it had to be The One. So I've had my eye out whenever I go shopping.

Today, on service break at Starbucks, I found it!  Here's a picture:

I really love the colors (it's a nice greeny-yellow inside), and because the design reminds me of picking blueberries. When my family first moved to this area from Spokane over ten years ago now, the apartment where we were living was right next to an ancient abandoned blueberry orchard. That fall, Tate and I went exploring down the tunnels between the bushes, which over the decades have grown up into trees. At one point, we got lost, and I remember running back and forth up and down the tunnels as the evening light faded, trying to find our way out. Over the next three weeks we picked buckets of blueberries which I made into pies, syrup, or jam, or sometimes we just ate them fresh. I remember Tate reading aloud to me one afternoon when he didn't feel like picking. The book was a biography of Louis Braille, and though I can remember very little of it now, I remember being fascinated by the story, and being glad that Tate wanted to read it to me, because it wasn't a book I'd likely have picked up on my own.

Over the years, I've missed a few blueberry seasons, but Tate and I have tried to go every September. I love the peacefulness of it down there in the shade, with the little birds rustling around and the wind blowing in the leaves. I know I'll think of it when I look at my new mug, and that makes me happy.