Mugged.

The last week we played host to my mom for a week long visit.  As anyone knows, sometimes when families get together, there are guaranteed tears, huffs and other assorted disgruntledness.  Luckily though, we made it through unscathed!  No fights, no unnecessary tears and no one disowning siblings or sons. 

However…there was one serious faux-pas.  The use of another man’s favorite mug. 

It should not be surprising to anyone who likes their coffee or tea, or any hot beverage served in a cup or mug.  Chances are, anyone who regularly drinks any hot beverage will attest to one mug winning their affections above all others.  Perhaps it is an unexplainable phenomenon, but it is a fact.

Cups are like jeans.  The more you wear a pair, the more acquainted you become with them.  Certain pairs fit you better, are longer or perhaps tighter.  As you build your relationship with your jeans, inevitably one pair is favored above all others, and are the ‘go to’ pair for any special occasion or when you just need to feel good all over.  The same with mugs. 

Some mugs you know you will love immediately, just because.  Others, it is a gradual process.  They feel right.  The handle has a perfect fit to your hand…as if it were custom made.  The rim is perfect.  The weight of the mug is perfectly balanced.  Sometimes, your drink just looks good in that mug.  Yes, and sometimes a mug becomes a favorite because of the simple fact that it is always there.  Like a trustworthy friend, they never break, leave or disappear on you.  You learn to love it because it unconditionally loves you.

I am not ashamed to say that in the moving process, I was quite concerned about a few certain mugs which are very dear to me.  When we unloaded boxes and I got to my mugs, I did hold my breath and unwrap the assorted vessels and was quite pleased to see that they all made it unscathed, especially my favorites.

Plain and simple, and no need to steal.

My super favorite mug is a large simple, plain white Starbucks issue.  No logo, no frills, just a great mug.  I spotted it left behind on a tab le at my old local drinking hole.  I walked in and told the staff on duty, “I am gonna steal that coffee mug left out there”.  Much to my surprise, one of the clerks looked up and simply replied, “Just take it-you don’t need to steal it.  It is OK” that cup has been my regular drinking partner ever since.

I was given a Paul Weller mug as a gift a while back from my brother.  This is my stand-in fave, or I drink from this if I am feeling a bit spunky or special.  I have another special mug which has been in my life for quite sometime, my Spiritualized mug.  I bought it when I saw them open for Radiohead way back in ’97.  This mug is so special, it has been semi-retired, and only used for very special occasions (like my ultra-fantastic Laughing Cow mug).  The Spiritualized mug is special because it not only looks good, but it is perfectly balanced and feels great.  It has also stained nicely too.

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Shortly after we arrived in Mexico, my father came to visit (see early blogs).  This was my first encounter on foreign soil when a family member may have gone too far.  It happens innocently enough, but one morning as I came downstairs I see my Weller cup sat next to my dad, and I had yet to have anything to drink.  It could have easily been a mistake, but upon asking whose mug that was, Dad simply replied it was his.  I said nothing, but I am sure astute observers would have seen my brow furrow and a look of disdain on my face.  Why is my dad drinking out of MY Paul Weller mug?  There is a whole cabinet full of mugs, but he takes that one.  Dad doesn’t even know who Weller is-much less The Style Council or the Jam!  That is off limits for him!   On the Brightside though, I let him use it.  I smiled and enjoyed the sight of my dad drinking from a Weller mug.  You don’t see that everyday…unless you have extremely hip dad or perhaps he is an old ‘punk’ or mod.

Now, unbeknownst to me, it seems as if Tonya had adopted my Spiritualized mug as her mug of choice.  She had mentioned it recently, and I had noticed morning after morning, she sat with the blue and white mug by her side as she ate her breakfast and answered emails.  The feelings she had for the Spiritualized mug were made clear one day when my mom made the transgression.  She grabbed the wrong mug, and did so repeatedly.  To make matters worse, she also grabbed the Weller mug!

One day while in the kitchen, Tonya lowers her tone and grimaces as she tells me, “Your mom is using my mug.”  She caught me off guard, and I asked her, “Which mug is yours?” In a split second she spits out, “The Spiritualized one!  I can’t believe it; she keeps grabbing it and using it.  I even tried to hide it, and she found it!”

Tonya and the Spiritualized mug.

I understood Tonya and what she was feeling.  I knew exactly how off balance her days were now, how life was truly out of balance.  Bad enough that she can’t use her favorite mug, but seeing an intruder just set it down and use it like it is just a mug…what a horrifying sight for anyone to behold.  What do you do though?  I didn’t say anything to dad as he swelled from my Weller mug, so what can I say to mom as she yabs and laughs while carting around the sacred Spiritualized mug?  Can you ban your parents form using your favorite pop star mugs?  I just tried to console Tonya and told her to keep an eye on mom in case she got crazy, and do not let her break either of those mugs!

Today we took mom to the airport, and she was set off safely back home.  Once again, the Spiritualized and Weller mug were their accessories for breakfast.  In a brief moment though, as the dishes were in the sink, Tonya muttered to me that after today, she would have her mug back.  I know she is looking forward to rekindling her long lost love, and perhaps tomorrow each day will be a brand new and bright, shiny affair.  Yes, things will get back to normal…at least for a few hours. 

Imagine the fear that shoots through both our hearts like giant icicles knowing that not even 24 hours later Tonya’s daughters will be here visiting for Thanksgiving.  Now, there is no need to hold back if some kid grabs your mug, you just lay into them and tell them off, citing the simple fact that half-assed indie bands from Chicago and Boston don’t have mugs with their logos emblazoned on them.  This is big-time stuff, you get relegated to the chip and cracked posse-weak and lazy, just like the music they make!

Meet my new (old ) friend.

Perhaps it is best that before the kiddoes arrive, our two mugs are nuzzled safely away, far from the reach of those grubby little fingers.  Luckily, through all of this, I have come to recognize my newly found constant.  I have come to the realization that there has been a certain mug that is always there for me, sitting quietly behind the more popular choices and big band names.  I am happy knowing that come what may, my new friend is patiently waiting on me to take his handle, and have him join my day.