Mary Novaria

John and I had the strangest experience in a Eureka Springs coffee house. As with most caffeine purveyors, there was a lengthy menu of offerings from the "Daily Brew" at the top of the chalkboard to the frothy, flavored frappe fixes. "What's the 'daily brew?' " John asked. "Coffee," replied the long-bearded guy behind the counter. I hesitate to call him a barista because, in my world, baristas are usually friendly, even jokey. Honestly, I thought he was droll. Turns out he wasn't. I mean, isn't the "daily brew" something that changes? Daily? Columbian yesterday... Guatemalan today... Sumatran tomorrow?" "Is it dark...? Or medium...?" John was trying to help out the guy. "All our coffee is medium roast," kibitzed an impatient coworker. She clearly was anxious for us to get coffee and get out. She was really put out that John wanted cream because it meant crossing a portion of the just-mopped stone floo...

People ask writers all the time, Where do your ideas come from? Or, Why did you write about that? From a short piece for a blog or a newsletter to the Great American Novel, the ideas usually come from everyday occurrences that somehow strike us as funny, odd, profound or just plain interesting. Random ideas come to me when I’m supposed to be writing about something else (Squirrel!). I get stumped or stuck or bored or distracted. I start looking around… order a refill on my coffee… critique the art on the walls… notice a little framed postcard talking about recycled materials. The latter is why I’m about to tell you three things about The Roasterie, a coffeehouse here in Leawood (there’s another in Kansas City’s Brookside neighborhood). Before I start lauding The Roasterie, I want to make it clear that I am not a basher of the great big coffee chain based in Seattle. I love their places—on every corner in some cities—so this is nothing against them. It’s just that, as Jon Kabat-zinn...

One of the ways we have failed our children is not getting them into scouting. They never asked and we never offered. While other kids were joining Daisy Scouts and Cub Scouts, our kids were playing soccer and channeling Michael Jordan in the driveway. John’s brother Nick, in his fifties, is still extremely involved in scouting even though his three Eagle Scouts have moved on. Nick still rocks that Scout uniform like a teen and does a fine spiel on Lord Baden-Powell, the revered founder of the Boy Scouts. Clearly John lacks the scouting gene in his family, as do I. I was a Girl Scout drop out. I lasted until 7th or 8th Grade. That’s when I got kicked out for telling dirty jokes. Well, that’s not entirely true. I did get called out by the leader of the Cadets when she overheard me telling a dirty joke to another girl during a meeting in the basement of the local Methodist church. She may even have phoned my parents to tattle on me. So, basically, I slinked away from scouting in shame, u...