What did we ever do before coffee?

One has to wonder if life was even worth living. Seriously. I love my kids and my wife is great, but coffee...ahhhhhh. I bring this up because of a caffeine deprivation incident this morning. It's almost too painful to recall, but I think blogging about it might be cathartic.

We were, as usual running late for church this morning. We'd gotten out of the habit of going since our church switched to a 9:00 service and it's in the next town. However, the priest really came through for us when my wife's grandfather passed away a few months ago and it inspired us to make the effort.

That being said, I skipped a shower so that I'd have time to make myself a pot of coffee in my new Paula Deen Percolator. I know that perced coffee isn't as good for you as drip coffee, but this bad boy makes the most amazing 8 cups of coffee you've ever had. Here's a link to a review of the pot on walmart.com (I bought mine on clearance in the store). The person who wrote the review is an idiot who has obviously never used a percolator before. Ignore her review, find the pot cheap, and begin a journey into glorious, rich coffee.

The key, by the way, which this miserable excuse for a Walmart shopper has obviously not discovered, is to use a coarse grind with a percolator. RTFM, baby. Or just ask someone with half a clue.

I seem to have wandered off-topic, haven't I? Must be the Machine Head in the background - they always get me fired up. That, and stupid people who don't know how to make freakin' coffee.

So back to this morning. I poured my still-boiling coffee into a travel thermos. It's a slick little deal I got for Christmas with a great little pour top, stainless steel liner so I'm not drinking plastic, and a lid that acts as a nicely-sized cup. As we're zipping down our road, bumping over the ice and potholes, I asked my wife to pour me a cup. I could almost taste it. I knew it would be hot, but that was OK. 9:00am is pretty late for my first cup of coffee.

"It's not pouring," she said. I glanced over, horrified at this obstacle to a beautiful, pre-sermon cup of coffee and wondering just what the hell she might be talking about. Yet there she was, holding the thermos upside-down with the pour spout open and no life-giving coffee emerging from said spout. She was awfully nonchalant about this particular development, I thought. The priest is pretty engaging, but without coffee, Metallica could have been singing the sermon and I'm not sure I could stay conscious.

"Try it again," I encouraged her as calmly as I could, realizing that either the heat of the coffee must have either created a vacuum or my caffeine-deprived brain must have hallucinated her first unsuccessful attempt to pour me a cup of coffee.

Panic began to set in when her second attempt proved the vacuum theory. Again, trying to remain calm, I suggested that she just unscrew the top, bypassing the handy pour spout and releasing the vacuum. In her mind, her refusal due to particularly bumpy road conditions and a light-colored mauve blouse was completely reasonable. Right.

OK, time for Plan B. I dropped them off at the front door of the church, citing our lateness and the lack of parking spots. I drove around the block, finding a parkind spot and immediately poured a cup of that delicious brew. All it took was an extra twist of the screw top to release the vacuum. However, as I had already noted, the coffee was boiling when I poured it and it hadn't cooled substantially during the drive. That, of course, is the point of a thermos: to keep things hot. Damn our modern understanding of thermodynamics!

Fortunately, it was 20 degrees outside this morning, so all I had to do was let it sit in the car for 10 minutes and it would be gulpable. I walked into church as quietly as I could, joining my wife in the back and plotting just how I would get out to gulp down said cup of coffee.

I could claim the need for a bathroom break, but she knew I'd gone just before we left. Besides, the church door was incredibly squeaky due to the temperatures. There was no way to leave subtly and the priest had eyes like a hawk. I was in this for the whole hour. If only they gave us coffee during communion.

At every hallelujah, I thought "hallelujah for coffee!" I was pretty proud of myself for staying conscious, though. All in all, I made it through pretty well. Like I said, it's lucky that he gives a good sermon. It's also lucky that he made it quick today.

For some reason, though, as we were all filing out, my wife thought it would be a great time to have a conversation with Noah, trapping me in the pew. We were in the back row, for crying out loud! I was so close to that cup of coffee, thwarted again by my lovely Luddite. She's lucky she's so good looking.

The coffee was cold by the time we got to the car, but that was OK. All the better to drink you quickly and pour another cup, my dear. Do you think anyone would notice if I started carrying coffee in a hip flask? Or one of those hydration backpacks?