I came down to the coffee shop hoping to write. Last night I felt fanciful and full of reverie, I felt impelled to write, but I was in bed, and sufficed to head to the coffee shop today.

Of course, it took me too long to get out of the house, and after the half hour drive here, I don't feel like going through with it... Writing.

So I watch the few people here. The only live ones are a couple who met here for coffee, there is the excitation and light on their faces of discovering romances. As they turn toward each other on the loves seat, sipping their ice rage coffee drinks, I notice neither of them wear a ring. The light of puppy love is some how refreshing to my imagination in a couple, dare I say? past their prime. The other two men sit alone sipping tall house cups of undoubtedly strong coffee. They strike me as being pastors, because who else would be studying alone on a Saturday?

That simple observation makes me miss Derrick and Clint that much more. How much easier would my task today be sitting across a table from them at Caffeine Dreams writing my sermon as they work another chapter to a novel or some other worthy work?

Speaking of the Great CD and Big Dog and Double "D" I wonder what they would think of this, place of my choosing today... Bay City Coffee and Tea has a whole lot more atmosphere than Espresso Express, but I admit I don't understand their business model. I thought they were going for the quality niche because all their drinks were overpriced, but they recently started serving the Big Train Ice Rage drinks my two love birds were drinking earlier. (They are currently enjoying an awkward interruption by the woman's daughter's piano teacher.)

We served the Ice Rage at Sehnerts, it annoyed me because every one came in to order this "great new thing," and we had been serving blended iced lattes forever. I wanted to tell them I could make them something better. This powdered excuse for a drink has no business being a part of coffee culture. It belongs in the convenience store next to the candy coffee capuccino machine! Sorry for the rant, but I may have to find another place to hang around if this coffee shop is headed down the slippery slope of profits over culture.

How does all this relate to the clay in the potter's hand? Finding the answer is my task for the next hours, I scrapped my initial attempts at it. The potter was crazy. I had him saying:

"You see this vase, how beautiful it is? It is beautiful isn't it? Don't you find it beautiful? Yes? Well, today I am going to make a vase more beautiful than this. It will be so beautiful, you've seen nothing like it, it will put this vase to shame. Compared to it this vase will be ugly. Puh, I spit on it. I will smash this vase, it will be so ugly!"

Not like the omnipotent God of wrath and love who's hands we are in.

At any rate now that I am warmed up and my cup is empty, I will get another AA and get back to work. (Ah the pastoral life!)