Nothing beats a good cup of coffee in the morning. Now that I have a Nespresso machine, the kind that makes between a latte and a cappuccino, my coffee is perfect. Just like they make it at Il Cafe Sant'Eustachio in Rome, near Piazza Nuvona or at Cafe Hugo, in Paris, inside the arcade of Place des Vosges. Funny how your mind travels every time you remember a joyful incident or a point of discovery. And several cups of Nespresso fill up my senses.
Saturday is the best day of the week when it comes to resting and doing what you like most: allowing myself to be, without any external strains. There were Saturdays when I would play volleyball from 11am until eight o'clock at night, skipping dinner and lunch, and coming home to crash after a pint of ice cream. Just doing what I felt like doing in that very moment. Sunday is not the same since the preoccupation that the week starts the next day lurks with a sad-anxiety over any diversion.
And then there are the dogs: True, Chance and Cheo. They love Saturday, especially CHEO, the young one of the three white labs that protect my life. When I was young, I loved the story of Jacob fighting the Angel. It gave me hope that one day I will also meet an Angel. And believe me, now that I've got more experience with how life turns out to be, I will definitely fight an Angel and probably win. But, thanks to my dogs, I feel like I met the real angels whose love has taught me more patience, forgiveness and tenderness. How do these creatures love? There's a wonderful novel, "The Story of Edgar Sawtelle", that explains it best.
And here's a little Saturday mantra that gets me up and going:
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