coffee girls

Coffee Girls: Confession #12

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My grandmother passed away a few days ago. She was 82. Such a sweet, mellow, dear old lady. She didn’t live close by, but family would go visit every few months. When she allowed it. We always had to give her advance notice… boy did she insist on having advance notice. Even though she sometimes seemed a little off, she was always interested in everything we did.

What I remember most about her is how much she loved pizza. And dancing. And scented candles. She would have scented candles all over the house. And large fans in the windows. I never could understand why she had such an affinity for window fans… until she passed. She was using them to clear the air. Seems sweet Nana was growing marijuana in the vegetable garden. Growing, harvesting and smoking it. I guess, that explains a lot of things. Way to go Nana! I’m both shocked and kind of proud.

Coffee Girls: Confession #11

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Of course I like coffee! Just not the way YOU probably do. I often brew several types, one right after the other and then set them aside to cool down for an hour or two. Dark roasts, medium roasts, instant, not instant. I don’t care where they come from or what brand they are, I just care about the color they make. No, I’m not a weirdo. (My fourteen year old might think I am, but I’m not asking for her opinion, especially not at this time of the month… if you get what I mean. Or it might be a moon phase thing. Teenage girls, who really knows.)

Anyway, I’m a painter. I paint with coffee! No, I didn’t make it up, coffee (and tea) painting has been around for centuries. You use it like watercolor… only no pigments, just lovely shades of brown. Think of tonalism with a twist (and a smell). There’s a learning curve for sure. How much water, how much coffee, things like that. Also, if you let it sit too long, it molds. I once let one sit, covered, for about four weeks thinking it would age, you, know, like a fine wine. Sweet baby Jesus! The smell ’bout knocked me out. It also looked like something from a sci-fi movie crawling around in there. Wasn’t sure if I needed to call ghostbusters or an exorcist. Also, the dark roasts really stain, so be careful with them. I now have a “coffee painted” shirt, pants, and right shoe.

Coffee Girls: Confession #10

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I made a mistake. A big one. I know better. I really do. It never should have happened. I don’t blame anyone but me. I’m the one who caused it. I recently had a birthday and prior to it, my husband asked me what I wanted and I said two words that never should have been uttered aloud. “Surprise me!”

What was I thinking?!! I love my husband, but with him… direction is always the best course of action. I guess in a moment of weakness I figured he knew me well enough that he would get me a day at my favorite spa, or a couple of two-hour massages at Elements, or gift cards to my favorite stores. Nope… he didn’t.

I now have a year long subscription to Doctor Mushrooms Exotic Magical Mystery Coffees… sent monthly. What the F*@k? Oh well. Happy Birthday to me and lesson learned.

Coffee Girls: Confession #9

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I like crossword puzzles. I just love challenging myself to filling in those little white squares. And, yes, I often have a cup of coffee while doing one.

I was introduced to these brain challenges at an early age by my father. He was a crossword junkie. If there was a puzzle within a paper, he’d be on it like gravy on mom’s mashed potatoes. It was how he started his day pretty much every weekend and on weekdays once he retired. I can still see him in my mind at the table with his morning cup of coffee and the newspaper opened to the crossword puzzle. (I can also still see him with paper and pen in hand on his way to the “throne room”.)

Unlike me, the more difficult the puzzle, the happier he’d be. As a kid, the easy clues would be thrown my way and later, the harder ones. It was a game I loved to play. When I didn’t know the word, mom would find an excuse to leave the vicinity so he wouldn’t throw them her way. She didn’t play this game. Anyway, my dad started me on this path and after all these years, I’m still on it.

Coffee Girls: Confession #8

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I think coffee is so cool. I drink it hot, but I think it’s cool. You know what I mean? I didn’t like it at all the first time I tried it. I was like, this is terrible! I think I was twelve. However, I’m fourteen now and my taste buds are more mature. Most of my friends drink their coffee cold, you know, “iced”. That’s ’cause they like to carry it around and be seen with it. At least that’s what I think. I don’t drink it every day. My mom won’t let me. She goes on and on about too much caffeine in my body. Like I’m gonna pee too much or something. I don’t know. Sometimes she’s so weird. I tell her it helps me concentrate on my homework. Actually, it helps me concentrate on my favorite YouTube channels.

Coffee Girls: Confession #7

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If I tell a bestie that “I really need a cup of coffee”, that’s my code for I’m having a pity party and I need some sympathy. Sometimes this party happens at my place, sometimes at theirs. Depends on how big the meltdown is. These never happen at a public place, like a coffee shop. Goodness no. I don’t have my pity parties in public. That would be embarrassing with the mascara running, and the sniffling, and the squeaky voice… you know what I mean. Why coffee and not something stronger? Well, for me, coffee is so much more sympathetic. The cup is warm and feels like a hug in my hands. It’s also like a little blanket of warmth as it goes down… unless I let it sit too long while I’m telling my sob story. Mostly though, it’s because it’s cheaper than booze.

The Coffee Girls: Confession #6

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There’s a coffee shop that I go to a lot that I haven’t told my best friends about. It’s not an upscale place. Nothing trendy or anything like that. I’m not sure my friends would even go there if I casually brought it up. Most likely they would roll their eyes and at laugh at my choice. It’s kind of an old hole in the wall place. Trust me, you’d never see it on a list of popular places to meet up. It’s dark, quaint, off the beaten path. However, they don’t know what I discovered there.

The coffee isn’t the real reason I stop in. Coffee is pretty much the same in all the local coffee bars in my area. So it’s not the coffee, though it’s good there. No complaints about the coffee. What keeps me coming back is that I discovered this grande, steamy hot South American blend that makes my mouth water the minute I walk in the door. Antonio. His name is Antonio. He could be selling Folger’s in a dixie cup for eight dollars a pour and I’d keep coming back. Don’t ask me where this place is. I’m not telling.

The Coffee Girls: Confession #3

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I like to drink alone. It’s no secret. I am often seen at my favorite coffee shops by myself. I don’t need a social group to imbibe in public. Some people I know, especially those who are really socially inclined, think it’s a bit odd. I understand. Coffee shops are where people go to meet up. Here’s the thing. I’m not a social butterfly and I enjoy my own company, especially with a nice cup of freshly brewed coffee in hand. I don’t need a book or a computer in front of me. I like to sit and think… in coffee shops… where the aromas of different brews and pastries surround me.

I also like to watch the people. Not in a weird way. I observe their demeanor, their coffee choices, and I like to make up stories about what kind of life they might have. It’s like writing short stories in my head, just for me. The baristas where I go, they know what to expect, know my coffee preferences, and after they serve me my favorite brew, they smile and back away. It’s like having special friends that “get me”. The baristas and my coffee… they really “get me”. There’s no pressure to have a conversation. I find it quite comfortable.

The Coffee Girls: Confession #2

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I’m not a morning person. Never have been. My days don’t start with me rolling out of bed with a smile on my face. I want to take my sweet time getting up. However, I have a job and it doesn’t let me work from home. I know there are hundreds, thousands, of others who have to start their day a lot earlier than I do, but still… it’s rough, and at this hour, I’m not too sympathetic to other people caught in this routine.

The alarm goes off for the third time and I drag myself into the kitchen with my eyes still closed. Thank goodness for a coffeemaker that lets me program it before I go to bed at night so it’s hot and ready when I get to it. What a luxury. I sit at the table and inhale the aroma as I try to get my eyes to open and my brain to start up, but it’s hard. It’s really hard. I’m truly in a dream-like state. I want to wake up bright eyed and bushy tailed, but it never happens that way. I always hope the coffee will help. Maybe I’m just immune to caffeine. I’ve never experienced a caffeine rush and I actually envy people who claim to get one.