skating in July

We all have to manage our own realities, right?  Reality...what a concept.  To be honest, I'm not a fan. After all, life throws a lot of crap at us, doesn't it?  Each day there are little things I do to make myself feel calm.  Centred.   At peace.  Somedays my strategies work and other days i'm out of luck.

Don't laugh, but I find that checking my Instagram account relaxes me. Facebook too.  Much to my husband's chagrin, it's the first thing I do in the morning.  I check my phone before i even check on my children.  Why? Because I enjoy looking at pictures of food, fun and flowers.  For me, those silly sites show me the Beautiful in everyday activities.   A well prepared breakfast.  A sweet new baby.  A unique halloween costume.  When i'm not well, watching the world online helps me feel connected.  Helps me feel alive.   I'm aware that social media can be a huge time waster.  For me, it's actually a huge life saver.

 Recently, I learned that drinking coffee also helps me deal with life.  It doesn't even have to be the caffeinated stuff.  Or the pricey stuff.  It's just the delicious ritual of sipping an iced Americano that seems to make me whole again.  Each and every morning.  Even when it's chilly outside.  On days where i feel less than perfect, I'll switch to a chai latte.  Warm.

The need to reapply lip gloss every 5 to 10 minutes is something that might drive the average female crazy.  Doing so actually helps me to keep from going crazy.  I apply lipgloss non-stop.  No matter where I am.  After dinner.  When i'm going to bed.  While I'm talking to a friend.   Not sure if it's a habit or obsession. Perchance an addiction?  I can't handle the feeling of my lips getting dry.  Not even for a second. To avoid this sensation, all of my bags and pockets are filled with different coloured tubes.  I don't discriminate.  I like organic, shiny lip, fruity, or plain glosses.  Expensive or store brand doesn't much matter.   I guess i like to keep my lips supple.  No other real explanation.  Sorry if it bugs you.

Obsessive planning also helps me keep sane.  Or almost sane. Since my mind only seems to allow me 9-10 good months per year, I live in constant fear of not finishing things.  I also fear the time when I'm not able to purchase stuff.  While the tasks or the items may not be vital, i know my life would be incomplete without them.

When i'm well, I constantly worry about having all birthday, housewarming, and new baby gifts purchased and ready to go.  Seriously, I buy gifts months ahead of time.  I keep them wrapped and stored in gift drawers.  Currently I have hundreds of dollars worth of perfectly packaged presents in my home. Candles, toys, art sets, and gift cards.  Before my son was born, his room was the "gift room".  People made fun of me, but i miss that room.   This need to keep a house full of perfectly planned pressies comes from the fact that during certain months, I can't leave the house.  Yes, I actually don't leave the house.  But only usually for a month or two.  Don't worry.  Often this low period comes around the beginning of the school year.  And seriously,  nothing i would hate more than for my little ones to have to attend a birthday party sans present.

Since I now know that post summer can be a bit trying for me, I also plan my kids' schedules way in advance.  It's July 20th and they're both already booked for swimming lessons.  And skating.  And skiing too.  I'm sure the people who run these said programs must think i'm the most keen mom around.  Guess this is why we shouldn't judge.  I book these programs now, because if i don't, the worry about arranging them in the fall could bring me to the ground.  That feeling of not knowing how to figure out what to plan a week is awful for me.  Sometimes even just getting one activity booked is helpful as it give me a foundation.

As i get worse, the feeling gets more insufferable.   Everything is a struggle, including figuring out how to feed the children.  During the majority of the year, I live to cook.  I love to create gorgeous and healthy meals for my friends and family.  This all changes as my mood drops.  When things are getting particularly sad, but not yet quite horrific, you may find me wandering the aisles of the most local grocery store.  Try not to stare, as I'll be the unshowered girl wandering the produce aisle.  My hair will be a mess and my weight might have fluctuated.  I can bet that i'll be in some sort of coat and black leggings.  I may appear to be lost, but please don't stop to chat.  I won't be ready for that.  The idea of speaking to you will make me cry.  You don't want that, now do you?  So carry on.

Those shiny aisles filled with my favourite organic apples, leaks and cauliflower suddenly start to mock me.  At that moment, planning for dinner is something akin to climbing Mount McKinley.   No training in the world can prepare me for those days.

Fortunately, i have friends who are well aware of my condition.  They'll pick me up at home.  Walk me through those mean aisles.  One dear love will literally plan my dinners.  She'll push my grocery cart and let me trail along like I'm her 4 year old daughter.  She asks if I have milk.  And eggs.  And bread.  She'll pick up the tortilla wraps.  And the chicken.  Calmly she'll explain to me again and again, how I should prepare my tacos later that evening.   When I get home, I never can remember what she has said, but at least the fridge is full.   For friends like her, I'm forever grateful.

Run. Spin.  Breathe.  Drink coffee & water.  Apply lib gloss.  Have a cookie too. Do what you must to keep the crazy at bay.  Namaste.  xo

Which super hero would YOU be?

I've always wanted to have the power to act like a "fly on the wall".    While i'm a fairly confident  girl, I always believed it would be fun to know what people actually think of you.  You know, to know what they say when you get up to leave the table.  A close friend of mine always jokes when describing her family, "we're very nice people, just don't leave the room".

I'm pretty sure this sentiment is true for most families.  Maybe it's human nature.  Perhaps people are just more insecure than they think?  Not sure about the science, but I do know that people (especially of the female persuasion) are prone to talking about friends behind their backs.

I'll admit that I have done it in the past. But I've tried so hard to refine my ways.  Honest, I have.  Especially living in a close knit city like Toronto.  I find  here you just never know who knows who.  Scary enough, in first months in TO, when I was still in graduate school, I learned this from a total stranger.  He was interviewing me for a job in consumer products.  Halfway through the meeting he says, "TO is a small town.  Be careful not to ever have an affair.  You never know who's watching.  And if you do find someone worthy, be sure to head out to the suburbs.  Never do it in the city".  I was 26.  His words stunned me.  I had no idea why he was saying this. Needless to say, I didn't get the job, but I did learn that even big cities are like small towns.  From then on, I've tried hard not to be unkind to people.  At least publicly.  At least in the city.

The other night, my close friend invited us to her children's birthday celebration.  We were invited to their home for a most wonderful family dinner party.  I dressed myself up in my most flattering black and white wrap dress.  I wore my red TOMS wedges.  I even suffered with a pair of ill-fitting spanx.  My children were appropriately groomed too.  My girl in a sweet striped GAP summer frock and the boy in a sweet Ralph Lauren shirt with blue anchor shorts.  We looked legit.  And our hair was brushed.  The three of us.

My lovely friend was happy to see us and the children took to playing immediately.  I was content to meet the extended family.  Six brothers and sisters and their various partners made 11 in total.  Before I arrived, I told myself to act demure.  Only speak when spoken to.  If anything, play the shy card.  After all, they didn't know how wonderfully charming i could be.

I sat myself down in front of the wonderfully baked fig & brie and waited for the evening to unfold.  The middle brother was a sweetheart.  I found him handsome.  Charming.  His sweet smile warmed my heart.  We seemed to bond over some similar mental health issues and I tried hard to keep that distance between POLITE and FLIRTY.  We chatted about my husband.  He gushed about his ex-girlfriend.  He companied about his job.  I was fully engaged.  I liked him.  Knowing their were many sisters beside me, I kindly ended our chat and turned towards on of the woman.

Seated on my right side was the older sister.  Pretty girl, though not as pretty as my dear friend.  I complimented her dress.  I genuinely adored the blue and white piece.  I acted shocked when she admitted that she was 10 years older than I had guessed.  Her skin was perfect I heard myself say.  And it was.  In five minutes i knew where she lived, how many acres her home was built on, and what she did for work.  I also learned what she had done for a job in the past ten years.  I knew where she vacationed.  I knew where she shopped.  I had seen not only a few pictures of her stunning children, but also recent paintings she had created.  I ooohed and ahhhed in the correct places.  I particularly liked the paintings of the boats.  Truth be told, I enjoyed chatting with her and i thought for sure the feeling was mutual.   I was wrong.

As the night went on and my children became more exhausted, I was sure my perfect appearances were going to pot.  My son busted out his Broadway tunes and began to dominate the evening.  At four, he has a savant memory for every song he hears and the crowd went wild. This lovely family was literally singing along with my boy.  Like he was Billy Joel.  The piano man.   It was adorable, but i was sure they'd think it was my fault that he was so "out there".  So very out of control.

One of the sisters is a school teacher.  She went on about how bright my boy is.  Her feeling was that we should take him out of his current school.  She believed an alternative school would suit him better.   Funny, she didn't even know our situation from this past year.  I told her she was perceptive and thanked her for the kind words.  As i spoke, I kept my legs crossed and hoped my dress wasn't as low cut as it seemed from my vantage point.

By 11pm, my eyelids were getting heavy and I rounded up the children.  Politely, they said their goodbyes and we headed home.  A lovely evening indeed.

Well, you can imagine my surprise when my friend sent this text, "as soon as you left they were bad mouthing you".  Seriously?  Come on!  I was on my best behaviour.

Apparently they didn't think so.  They thought i was "out there".  Me?  Whatever did THAT mean.  They thought I was a know it all, trying to be smart.  Funny, because actually i just AM smart.  They really didn't like me.  Not even their 80 year old mother liked me.  At first my feelings were hurt, but then i realized you need to go to the source.   These people don't like my amazing friend either.  Why?  Because she is a warm, beautiful, accomplished, intelligent, worldly woman.  She has more class in her left finger than they have in their whole persons.  Combined.

When i think back to the party, I try to recall what i could have said or done that was so egregious.  Nothing seemed to stand out.  Save for my son's singing debut.   Clearly they thought i was trying to pick up their brother.  I guess they didn't know that i know better than to do that.  At least not in the middle of the city.   Grow up girls.  Namaste ladies...

Anyone free for a movie tonight?

It's sort of funny.  About 6 weeks ago, I was desperate to find someone to see the movie CHEF with me.  I emailed 7 different local female friends.  Each one had  an excuse.  Most were honest.  Working late.  Up at the "cottage".  No sitter.  Plans for dinner.  Exhausted.   Out for drinks.  Spending the night with my man.  He wants me home tonight.  Ugh.  I think this one was the most annoying, but i digress.

I sent a few texts by phone and then resorted to a posting on Facebook.  Since i have close to 700 "friends" on FB, i was sure that SOMEONE would be free to come see a 90 minute film with me.  After all, the movie is a beautifully shot food picture.  Sounds way better than "hanging with your man" to me.

After waiting an hour, i learned that there was not anyone in the city of Toronto who was able to join me for the evening.  Wow.  Was i disappointed.  As it turned out, my own unreliable child care provider cancelled on me at the last minute.  A movie was not in the cards for me that early summer night.

I'm sure i spent a large part of that Tuesday surfing the internet, checking out Facebook, instagram, Houzz, and Twitter.  I know that i had to sit through copious amounts of pictures of parents sending their children off  to sleep away summer camps.  They posted about tears and sadness.  How would they ever endure a quiet, empty clean home for two weeks?  Days later, these same parents are still posting pictures of every single thing their offspring is doing at camp.  On a daily basis.  Every.  Single.  Activity.

I'm totally annoyed by this phenomenon.  I mean, is there actually a photographer following young campers from archery to swimming to tennis and then volleyball?  Each and everyday?  There are even pictures of these said kids just hanging around and applying sunscreen.  It's creepy.  Often I wonder if the photographer is a professional?  Then i hope it's just a high school staff with a SLR camera?  What makes it worse, is that i know these parents had to siphon through hundreds of pictures online to find their little ones.  Not an easy task.  Believe me, I've done it. And I do adore my friends kids, I just don't need to see every popsicle they eat at camp.

But anyway, I did manage to finally see CHEF when i was back in NYC.  I loved it.  Went with my sister who had zero appreciation for the amazing production and complained that it was a 90 minute Twitter advertisement.   While I really enjoyed the movie, I realized that although it feels like i have friends all over the globe, in all reality, i probably do not.

So all this lead up to tell you that last night i went on a major UN-FRIENDING mission.  I went ballistic.  It was a wee bit insane.  I don't know what came over me, but I'm pretty sure it was the closest i'll ever get to going on a full blown killing spree.  Actually, I'm completely sure.

The massacre started because last night there was yet another NYC friend bugging me to join a multi-level marketing organization.  Come on.  I've been through this already.  Vitamins, protein shakes, jewelry, clothes, stationery, skin care, etc.  What's next?  And when did Avon-like tupperware sales become the new GO TO career choice for smart and accomplished stay at home moms?  I wish them great luck in their newest endeavours, but if they couldn't join me for a movie, then I didn't want another invite to their wine and cheese "party".

So i de-friended these girls first.  I just couldn't see another BEFORE picture of their old aunts' wrinkly necks.   Two down and I was feeling brave.

I got rid of ten women who used to be involved in the work i did about 8 years ago.  Women i had met through working in the baby industry back when i had a baby.  Often i was sure that these ladies were stalking me or at least checking out my photos on a regular basis. They were not my friends and they had to be deleted.

Twelve down.  Next were the high school girls who i hadn't seen since high school.  For a time, it was fun to see their posts, but heading dangerously close to 40, i was now over it.   I think i got rid of 5 or 6 women with this criteria.

There have been tons of people who never comment on my posts at all.  Never a like for a cute picture.  Never a comment for a serious quote.  That group was going down.  I estimate them to be about 7.

Finally, I just deleted another 26 for good measure.  People who post about religion.  People who post too many quotes about puppies and kitties.  "Friends" who post all their girls nights out and never manage to invite me.  Families who post pool pictures, but never ask us to come for a swim. Women who put up too many bikini shots.  They all had to go.  And fast.

By the end of the day, I felt pretty good and decided to alert my true "friends" about what i had done. Their responses made me giggle.

My post read, " i'm on a mission---un-friending people like mad...Feel good, if you can read this, then i haven't hit you just yet :)

So far, in less than 12 hours, I've had close to 50 people comment on this status update.  People I haven't heard from in years asking kindly that i keep them as friends.

One lady begged to stay, claiming she adores my food posts.  One male friend threatened to block me if i delete him and then poke me unmercifully.  Another friend was curious as to what criteria i used to cull?  

I found their words charming.  I was flattered.  They like me.  They really really like me.  And at the end of this one sided war, I was happy with the hundreds of friends I had left.  

Next time I'm searching for a friend to see a movie with me, I'll see how quickly someone says "yes".   
Breathe, smile and drinks lots of water.  Namaste.

and tonight i feel sadness...

Everything was going swimmingly.  The sun was finally shining, our flowers were growing, and we even had tomatoes ripening on the vines.  My kids had finally finished what could only be described as a harrowing 10 months.  Their report cards were stellar.  And not just stellar, they were outrageous.  Basically that teacher who had tortured me all year was now extolling the greatness of my genius son.  "He is a scientist who puts together facts like no other student".  His fondness for learning would make any educator smile, she went on to say.  Truth be told, reading her kind words made me feel a bit guilty.

But today is another day.  My kids are exhausted and wild due to excessive programming at summer camp.  My husband is away on yet another business trip, his second in 7 days.  When i called my mother for the 3 time this evening, i realized that the reason she couldn't hear her phone because her home was filled with revellers celebrating my little sister's birthday.  Seems that the whole extended family was together enjoying and here i'm stuck.  Not that i feel bad for myself (ok, so maybe a little), but i just feel disappointed.  Dissapointed that my phone rarely rings.  Disappointed that I seem to be the perpetual party planner.  Sad that so few people seem to want to reciprocate my dinner invites.  Sad that i have to board a plane to be in my proper home.

But life isn't really so bad.  So celebrate the sweetness.  Namaste

what makes you happy?

By the time the doll baby turned three, they were actually ready for a second child.  Lucky for fertile myrtle, they fell pregnant on the first chilly day in February.  This event wasn’t as sweet as the last.  She was neausis and feeling unwell for three months.  Sadly this didn’t keep the pounds at bay.  Her belly ballooned way too quickly for her liking.  But life stayed happy until about month 7.  This is when that scary reality set in.  Another child.  Another mouth.  More running shoes.  More diapers.  More early morning wake up calls.  Worst of all was the notion that flying to NYC wouldn’t be as easy.  After all, baby girl was the perfect travel accessory.  Not only was she a dream to travel with, she even knew when to take off her little sparkly shoes at security.  How would she ever handle a second kid on that one-hour flight?

Meds were needed to stop the pain.  She was too scared and too angry.  Poor baby bean didn’t have a chance and it was disgraceful.  A fantastic team of doctors came up with a plan.  Baby boy would be born on December 3 and closely monitored by the nurses in the evening.   Breast-feeding would not be expected and mom to be would get at least 7 hours of rest a night.  Labor came and went without the needed epidural.  At the end of the fire, the most brilliant and handsome child graced this world.  His name was to be Javier.  Blue eyes sparkled and his face was intense.  He would be her perfect partner.  The perfect brother to their already darling little 4 year old. 

And so it was written.  He lifted her spirits better than any drug could ever do.  She took to him right away and he was supremely smitten from the beginning.  It was a match made for sure.

Life went on.  Too quickly one might note.  Boy was growing in leaps and bounds and walking by age 9 months.  People were amazed.  Now there were two perfect children walking on this earth.  The two children were hers and life was definitely blessed.  She was in heaven and no one could deny.  The boy was charismatic, funny and charming.  He had so much mommy in him that he was more like a 20 year old than a 20 month old.

He enjoyed playing, running, jumping, cooking, eating… He was from another world.  The home was happy.  Bustling.  Smiles everywhere.  Singing all day and night.  Everyone slept well past 9am.

The weight still carried on.  By now there were about 60 pounds to shed.  It was tougher than before.  She was 5 years older and the pounds were very comfortable where they were.  They were stubborn.  One might even say obstinate.

Back to that Weight Watchers meeting to learn about how to eat.  Don’t eat too much bread.  Stay away from cheese and pizza.  Clearly she could write the book, she just couldn’t seem to follow the directions.  How could she help that she wanted to eat at 2am.  Why was it that dim sum and cheese were still favorites.  Was pizza not really healthy? There was cheese for calcium and pepperoni for protein, no?

So the war waged on and it seemed that she wasn’t winning yet.  The smiles at home were only turned up when the kids were involved.  Otherwise, there was unrest.  When are you going to get back to your pre-baby weight he seemed to plea.  Aren’t you happier skinnier?! Clearly, she wasn’t happy, but was it really the pounds that were making her upset?

Life was easier behind her MAC computer.  When she was typing online no one knew her.  With that shiny screen in front of her, she still looked 25.  Slim and fit, no one truly knows you online and that was just perfect for her. 

In her head she whispered: Run, run, run from your pain.  You may hide it if you stand in the rain.  I’m not thinking rational.  This kind of thinking is fashionable.  Don’t want to walk away, but it’s not safe to stay.  That was the truth.  It wasn’t safe to stay.  But where did she have to go?

Then again, there were the babies.  Mother of two.  That was her new title.  It was both the best and hardest job she ever had.  Thankfully she was great at it.  Cooked, cleaned and entertained those kids.  A lot.  Sure, some mornings she lamented the fact that they had to eat yet again, but then she’d pull it together.  Off to the market for the organics.  Milk, cheese, and fresh produce.  Only her little ones snacked on avocado right from the shell.  These kids were healthy.  These kids were happy.  They weren’t trying to run from the rain.  They were jumping.  Right in.  And they weren’t even wearing their rain boots.

I’m not thinking rational.  And so it went.  Another day.  Another year.  Another letter.  Another ex.  Live in the present.  Forget about the past.  How can you ever forget when today is just so darn ugly?  Hmmmm. 

But the music kept playing.  Everyday.  Mostly in her head.  Sometime from the iphone.  Running from the life that she had.   Went down to the ocean to meet the candy man…with all the answers to her problems in his hand.  She doesn’t want to change her ways.  Ever.  Why should she?   Only happy when she’s high??  It certainly was starting to feel that way.

worst job ever

Sometimes I wonder which kids grow up to be "parking police".  Is it something they dream about when they were young?  Did they want to become police and couldn't quite make the cut?  Or maybe they want to look like police officers, but they're not stable enough to carry weapons?! Do they enjoy the idea of ruining people's days?  Maybe they like the uniform? Or riding a bicycle around town? Whatever their motivations are, I'm sorry for them.  Truly and utterly sorry.

I can't think of a more useless occupation.  I mean seriously.  No one likes you.  Most people despise you.    I hate you.  You have hardly any real purpose at all.  Most tickets are useless anyway.  I totally get it if you're blocking a fire pump or a bus lane.  Other than that, tickets are just a silly way to collect money.  Sometimes I wonder why the cities don't use your powers (and your biking legs) for good?

So, to the total loser on the roadside cruiser today, Thank you so much for the $60 parking ticket that you wrote as I watched.  I figure (and i believe) that you probably have never had a second date with a woman in your life.  Our aggressive and rude conversation outside that disgusting sandwich shop aptly named BOAR, was probably the first female interaction you've had all day.  All this anger you displayed while I gasped from that large pig head on the sign above.  You even threatened me with a second ticket.  GET a LIFE.

Don't worry parking agent, I'll get the last laugh.  One of these days, you'll be rushing to ticket a hybrid Prius and you'll get knocked over by an 18 wheeler.  Until then, carry on.  And i hope you do some charitable and meaningful work somewhere else.

coffee, tea or me?

I'm seriously fascinated by the coffee world.  I've given the concept some serious thought and i can't recall when it all started.  Sure, I remember my parents drinking coffee at home.  At first from their old fashioned and basic drip machine and years later from their super duper JURA hot rod.  I'll never forget the day my dad came home with that $3000 beauty.  My mother swore up and down that she'd never use it.  She was convinced she'd never figure it out.  After all, it was nearly a computer with way too many bells and whistles.  Then she gave up her fight and became obsessed.  I swear she pays more attention to that machine than she does to her kids.  These days the JURA sits beside her distant cousin, the Nespresso.  My mom has a need for both, or so she claims.  I am not a fan of that little pod machine.  Seems like a short cut that's not quite worth taking. Also, i've done the math, and those little guys cost a ton per cup.

My mom has passed her obsession for coffee right down onto my two kids.  From the time they could speak, she'd have them smell the fresh beans and then press the buttons to create the perfect cup.  My four year old can nearly pass as a barista.  He's mastered the whole event and even chooses to wear an apron around his waist.

I do remember coffee at our home.  Everyone who walks into my parent's house is offered a cup.  From close friends and family to  guys who come to do yard work or plumbing.  My parents treat everyone equally.  LOVE that about them.

As a small kid, I recall spending copious amounts of time in a place called DUNKIN' DIP.  If i had to guess this place pre-dated Dunkin Donuts, but i haven't checked google on the dates just yet.  My mom used to meet her lady friends there and together they'd enjoy, get this,  a muffin and a cup of coffee.  If they were feeling particularly hungry, they'd have a tart frozen yogurt too.  The year was 1983.  Obviously.  Muffins were considered "health food" in that era.

I can still smell that shop.  They also had killer mousse in edible chocolate cups.  I was thrilled when my  mom allowed me to have one of those puppies.  Mmmm.  I can still taste that waffly cup today.

And i remember coffee in diners.  Real NYC and NJ diners.  Where the take out coffee came in those retro blue and white patterned cups.  I love those cups.  My parents used to let me indulge in the stuff.  Starting from a really young age, I think.  They'd call it "coffee milk" and my mom would add a couple of drops of sweet coffee to my 2%  milk.  Back in the 80's, it wasn't organic.  But i digress.

When we'd go out for lunch or brunch, my parents would always order coffee.  I loved the establishments that served their cream and milk in those small tiny plastic cups.  My favourite was to open a teeny cup 1/2 way and then dribble some coffee right in.  Then i'd gulp back 5 or 6 minis and i'd be good for the day.  I must have been 6.  The neatest thing is that BOTH my children do this today.  Must be genetic.  They also live to eat butter straight from those plastic pads.  My kids rock!

So, coffee has become quite the thing.  Back in the very early 90's, my parents took a trip to Alaska by way of Seattle.  They came back raving about the coffee.  Coffee shops on every single street?  Coffee?  And there was born Starbucks.  Who would have known?  Sadly they weren't wise enough to invest that year.  Not in Apple stock either.  What did they know?

I've always considered myself someone who drinks the stuff for the "taste".  I never actually needed the caffeine and I was always fine with decaf.  I couldn't even tell the difference between the two.  That was pre-kids.  Now i feel lost and foggy without a dose of caffeine before 10.  Sadly, it seems the more i drink, the more i require.

We have a lovely coffee machine at home.  Not quite a JURA, but a pretty sweet piece.  We buy great coffee.  No starbucks allowed.  At present, we are good with Ezra's pound.  Delish.

Strangely, as much as I claim that it's economical to use my home goods, I find that i'm drawn to coffee shops.  I meet friends to chat at different shops.  Business meetings are always easier with coffee.  Today i even interviewed a potential baby sitter at my favourite local spot.  This felt easier than cleaning the kitchen for her.

Most days i go for coffee alone.  It's my treat right after i drop off the kids.  I run down the street on autopilot and the baristas always know what i want.  Iced americano with room for cream.  Lots of ice.  Take-out cup and a straw.  I guess it's nice to be a regular.  Makes me feel sort of warm and fuzzy inside.

Lately, i seem to be spending a lot of time at one particular establishment down the street from our house.  The owner is a young Jordanian guy.  Coffee is his passion and its awesome to watch him prepare a drink.  He jokes that my americanos are made with love, but i don't actually think he's kidding.  I also don't think i'm the only recipient of his amor.  The guy just loves coffee.  He loves every part of it, and he won't serve a less than perfect cup.  Sometimes his love causes a bottleneck in his production line, but his guests love his coffee and his smile isn't bad either.

Sometimes when i sit at this said shop, I watch the other consumers.  Everyone has a style.  Each person has what i believe is a coffee ritual.  Some people prefer decaf others like 2 shots of espresso.  Fat free milk, soy milk, almond milk?  When did milk becomes such a difficult situation?  And then there's the issue of cups?  I can't drink out of a "stay in" mug.  Not sure why, but i prefer to sip from a to-go type.  Maybe i always want to keep my options open?  My mom assures me that I learned this thing from HER mom.  She didn't believe that a cup of coffee was a cup of coffee until it was served in a TO-GO cup?! Family ties.

I'm not super picky about the brand of coffee I'll drink.  For a dollar, I'll swallow down a medium iced from McDonalds (hold the sugar please!).  Lately, however, I'm learning that i'm becoming more of a connoisseur.  Last week I had to spill out a perfectly good iced coffee from both Starbucks and Dunkin Donuts.  I'll never be a fancy wine drinker, but i think this CUT COFFEE stuff has me converted.