Coffee: Americano, Caribou Coffee
My mother’s mother had a thing for erasable pens. She liked the blue ones. She’d buy whole packs of them and use the ink on crosswords. They were BiC brand and never erased as well as advertised.
I’ve always been terrible at crosswords.
It’s funny the things you remember about a person. I remember her watching NASCAR. I remember the way she’d powder her face with a compact. She was one of those old ladies, the kind that try to put themselves together every day. A long time ago, when my grandfather was living too, and they had a house in Colombia, SC, I’d know to expect a batch of brownies when we visited. And she was the only person in the world that could get me to eat a steak rare.
You’re a list of quirks and contrivances when you’re gone. That’s all you are anyway, only when you’re living you can string those quirks together into neater packaging.
In college, I’d buy cheap ring binders and black see-through BiC’s. Not the erasables, just the regular. I still buy the BiC’s because I like the way they write. I like how insignificant it feels to hold them. Maybe I got some of that from her.
Novel Count: 12,764
Currently Reading: Killing Commendatore, Haruki Murakami
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Pens: Communication Essentials.Tagline on BiC’s Stationary splash page