Monday Coffee Klatch: To All the Books I've Loved Before

Just for variety, I want to introduce you to a coffee shop I don't love. This place is a back-up coffee shop for me. The coffee is ... okay. Croissants are good. Apparently, their specialty is churros, which I haven't yet tried. 

On the plus side, they have comfy seating and a super-convenient location if I was going to meet someone. 

But really, I only come here when I've walked down to my favorite place only to find that it is closed for some random reason, which, as a mom and pop shop, is a respectable choice even if a little inconvenient for me sometimes. This place is around the corner and a few doors down, so I haven't wasted my walk.

Less cute view, wimpier coffee, but comfy.

Now, regarding The Books That Got Away!

I've complained before about losing books due to moving overseas. It's one of those critical, difficult decisions. They're heavy, they take up space, and with internet access, it's hard to convince yourself the physical book is critical.

In years past, I've given away a LOT of books.

Sometimes I tried to make sure they went to someone who would really appreciate them. If I had a whole collection by an author, I'd post online: Does anybody love this author? I've got the complete set and I'd be happy to send it to you! Because if someone loves the books, I'd much rather see them go to a good home than break up the set.

I've also donated plenty to thrift stores, and later to the library where my sister worked.

And honestly, I'm glad most of those books found new homes.

But every now and then, I wish I still had certain ones.

The recent culprit is Gregory Maguire. After watching Wicked and Wicked: For Good, I found myself wishing I still had my collection of his books. I'd read all of them at least once, and they're wonderfully written, although VERY different from the light, funny version presented in the stage musical. Maguire's version of Wicked is dark.

Those I could replace fairly easily, since I could get them electronically and put them on my Kindle.

I also had a biography of Alec Guinness that I'd ordered through a book club. I never actually got around to reading it before I gave it away. Now, every time I watch a movie with Alec Guinness in it, I think, I wish I still had that book.

I know I could replace that one, too.

But then there are the books I can't really replace.

I once had a hardcover edition of Beowulf, with a new English translation on one page and the original Old English on the facing page. I think it was published sometime in the 1990s. I love multi-language books. (I have several English+Chinese ones now, and used to have a copy of Faust in English+German.) I think the dual language gives me hope that I'll up my linguistic game.

But for me the biggest loss is my original Star Wars trilogy written as Shakespeare plays. My sister gave me one of these lovely hardcover books for Christmas or my birthday three years in a row. They were beautifully illustrated, and the language was part of the fun. (Sci-fi iambic pentameter except Yoda, whose lines were written in haiku.😄) I could probably find electronic versions somewhere, but I don't think I'd enjoy them nearly as much that way. 

Because sometimes it's not just the book you miss.

It's that book.

The particular edition. The illustrations. The feel of it. The memory of where it came from.

The hard fact is that when you have to reduce your possessions to what is genuinely practical, you sometimes end up giving away things that weren't practical, but were precious.

Have you lost a favorite book to time or location or circumstance? What do you miss about it?

Friday Fiction? No

I have a story almost ready to post, but my internet is giving me fits today. The story is handwritten. I can't even put it in blogger. 

I'm sending this from the app on my phone, but I'm not about to try accurately writing a story with one finger on a cell-phone keyboard!

This is the second day of it. I might be screwed. Send good vibes and prayers at this trying time. 😉

Wednesday Poetry Corner: Petrichor

Smell of petrichor,
Grey above the green palm fronds,
Nature's gifts abound.

(Haiku written by me on Aug. 26, 2026) 

 

Coffee Klatch - Beer Edition!

Coffee and books are a natural pairing. Give me a quiet garden, delicious coffee, an uninterrupted hour or two in the morning, and I'm happy.

But sometimes it's evening, and coffee isn't what I'm after. Sometimes I want a beer. And I want to take my book with me.

There's something comfortable about reading at my local. My usual seat faces out toward the street, where I can catch the breeze, watch the world go by, and enjoy being out in public while staying in my own little world.

No Kindle in this picture, but you get the idea

 

Which brings me to one of my favorite inventions for an international traveler: the e-reader. I happen to use a Kindle these days, but I'm not particularly loyal to the brand. The important thing is that it holds a library without weighing anything like an actual library.

A big advantage of bringing your e-reader to a bar? Anonymity.

A physical book invites conversation, and as much as I enjoy bookish chats at times, I do not crave that kind of attention in a bar. With my Kindle, nobody knows what I'm reading, and nobody asks.

Now, I know a lot of women feel self-conscious about going out alone, so allow me to suggest one more big bonus of the e-reader: it acts as a sort of social shield! Bar, restaurant, coffee shop, wherever you are - with your Kindle, you're not alone, and you don't look it. You're reading.

Nobody questions it. 

At least, I don't think they do. I'm too busy reading to notice what anyone else is doing. And maybe that's the point. 

There are plenty of reasons to go out alone. You don't need an excuse or companion. All you need is a good book, drink of your choice, and if you're lucky, a seat with a breeze. 

Fiction Friday - Need To Know

"Have you seen your sister lately?"

Beckett hid his instinctive "freeze" response by looking up as if in thought. "Not really. Why? Should I have?" He turned a passably curious look toward his mother. She was preparing dinner and he had come into the kitchen to grab a can of Monster from the fridge before returning to his work in the basement.

His mom wasn't actually looking at him, but said to the vegetables she was washing, "I know she's old enough to do what she wants, but it's been a few weeks since she's called. I thought maybe you ran into her during one of your campus runs."

"Nah, sorry." He shook his head and closed the fridge door, anxious to get back to his fortress. He should have graduated last year, but got a lucrative job with a digital company and now worked more hours than he studied. One class per term, with a hard push over the holidays, and he should get his degree next spring. 

He was almost out of the kitchen when his mom added, "Well, keep your eyes open for me, will you? I know she has friends around there." Beckett raised his can in a toast of agreement, hoping she saw it. He didn't dare turn to face her and risk giving up the game. 

Sascha was on the run. He hadn't lied to his mother. Not exactly. Personally, he hadn't seen her for a month, but since becoming a Gatekeeper for the "Hidden Kitty" underground movement, he was aware of her progress through coded second-hand messages.

Neither Beckett nor Sascha liked keeping their mom in the dark. She had always been a supporter of Sascha's... difference. But when laws began changing against different innocent segments of the population, her head had stayed firmly in the sand. "Just because they've outlawed this one type of person," she would tell Sascha, "Doesn't mean that someone like you is in danger." 

Sascha disagreed and wasn't willing to risk it. When they came after a group, they came suddenly. When they started coming for people "like her", it would be too late to formulate a back-up plan. 

Fortunately, Beckett was still active at the university. Sascha had graduated and moved on, but had heard about a rebellion growing there. Together they found the right people who could help her.

As she prepared to go into hiding through Hidden Kitty's network, they realized their mom would not only be a liability to Sascha, but would herself be in danger. They had to keep her out of it. During the weeks of Sascha's prep, Beckett had become more involved with the organization. Now he was in a position to send and receive the coded messages. 

Sascha was safe at the moment. Mom was worried. Beckett could stop the worry, but at the risk to countless others in positions like Sascha. Small price to pay.  

Wednesday Poetry Corner: Indiscriminate

Indiscriminate -
Days of downpour, sun, drizzle...
Beaker traumatized. 🙀 

(haiku written by me on August 17, 2026)

As I said, we don't get as much rain here, but it is unpredictable.

Well, was unpredictable. Then I realized that Beaker disappears shortly before the rain starts. I don't know how he knows, but shortly after he hides under a bed, the tin roof begins echoing. He'll come out when it's quiet, but with such spotty showers, sometimes he races off to hide several times a day - heavy or light rain, either way.  

He's more accurate than my weather app! 

Monday Coffee Klatch: Odd Combinations

I don't remember what made me try salted coffee the first time, but it quickly became one of my favorites.

Salted coffee sounds weird, right? Ew!

Now, don't go dumping a bunch of Morton's into your coffee grounds. That's not it at all. The coffee doesn't taste salty. The salt is in the salted cream.

Less "Ew!" and more "Oooh!"

And not just a little cream, either. A nice, unapologetic dollop of it, floating on top of coffee that's already been lightly sweetened with condensed milk.

My favorite salted coffee back in Hoi An tasted almost like salted caramel. A sweet and creamy treat for the tongue. Definitely more of a once-in-a-while cup o' joe.

At the nice places, there's a bit more production to it. Coffee on the bottom, creamy layer on top, smoothed out and finished with a dusting of cocoa. 

It's pretty. It's indulgent. It's utterly unlike what the name brings to mind.

...Because at no point does it taste like "salt + coffee."

Which got me thinking about other combinations that shouldn't work, but somehow, for me, they do.

Like Stephen King and Terry Pratchett.

In the past year I've fallen into a pattern of alternating between them. Have you read either one?

King, of course, is known for horror. Pratchett is, well... fantasy, absurdity, social commentary, and a view of humanity through a cracked lens. They couldn't seem more different.

And yet, I've discovered two things they have very much in common:

They both have a VAST catalog.

And, once I'm reading one of theirs, the story just carries me along.

Since The Shepherd’s Hut by Tim Winton, I've gone King > Pratchett > King: 

Revival, The Light Fantastic, and now The Sun Dog. 

When I'm out with my Kindle and finish a book, it's easiest to pop into a familiar style. I guess that's what I like in my go-to authors: that confidence that there are plenty more good books where that came from.

So, who's your go-to author? Or do you bounce around like me? (I do have others, too.)

I'd love to know whose book you pick up as "comfort food" for the brain. I'm always looking for my next book.