"A tall salted caramel hot chocolate doesn't just HIT the spot . . . it SLAMS into the spot!"
"Necessary Coffee o' The Day Snapshot: say hello to my grande friend!"
"Bold and unadulterated!"
"Mister Jim paying for our liquid gold at SB's in Sioux City."
"Jimmy Valdez conquering Iowa one venti plain house brew at a time!"
"Hanging out at one of the umpteen million Starbucks in NYC, writing one of my 24 postcards."
If you can decipher the what of the above single lines, then you either post a lot of pictures on Facebook or you skim the captions of more than a few pictures on Facebook. (Facebook. Now there's a whole 'nother trend I would reluctantly cop to the partaking of but there's no need: EVERYBODY knows! But for me, it's a fun word forum, folks. A WORD forum.) Oh, and you are a no-holds-barred patron of that fave ubiquitous coffee establishment, Starbucks.
Anyhoo, this particular entry diverges from the usual content for this blog, but as it seems to be in keeping with the whole reticent housewife theme, I thought it best to write at this location.
A friend of mine sent me a link to a blog entry, authored by the son of a friend, who put into words his love for Starbucks. Specifically, his FAVORITE Starbucks. Unabashedly. Unashamedly. And with great photos to boot. Now, he lives in Munich. He's also been to Bali. His shots of said exotic locale establishments are pretty high quality. Since my mother is exercising her Facebook farming rights on my laptop while she recovers from her knee surgery, and ALL of my up-to-date shots are housed in its hard drive, I had to root through my uploaded photos on Facebook to search for MY high quality shots. Alas, there are none. Most arrived courtesy of my iPhone and involved affectionate close-ups of freshly brewed cups of anything and everything, often accompanied by their human caffeine imbibers. From these I gather I'm rather fond of both my husband AND tall soy lattes.
Now, for me, the romance with Starbucks has very little to do with the insides of the stores themselves. Often, my contact is via the drive-thru. In fact, before I became an official coffee drinker, I spent more time sitting and chatting on site than I do now as a gold card carrier who's earned more than her decent share of FREE DRINK coupons for swiping said card 15 times per. For those not in the know, until the early summer of 2010, my hot drink of choice was herbal tea. Once in a great while, I splurged on a soy chai latte at Starbucks; those usually coincided with a Saturday morning away from home with the hubby or a Wednesday night hanging with my 20-something daughter while waiting for the younger kids to finish up with church youth. To the chagrin of one of my friends, I was even known to bring my own Tazo Calm tea bag and ask for a cup of hot water. Hey! I left a tip.
But I enjoyed my trips to Starbucks as it afforded me social time in a lively setting with various members of my family. It was even the festive backdrop for several enjoyable coffee and iced drink runs with my younger brother, Gary, upon his release from a 12+ year stint in prison. (Now, I do have a smashing photo record of those visits.) It's simply that coffee never interested me. Even after that famous comment made by my husband several years back whereby he quipped that if I drank coffee, I'd be the PERFECT woman. Wow! One bold roast steaming drink away from perfection and I wasn't biting. Besides, the one or two times that I did 'bite,' the jitters and nausea were so intense that my entire day was ruined.
On the fiscal front, spending more than a dollar on a cup of coffee, every day, oft times several times a day, seemed the height of financial stupidity. What a waste of hard earned cash! What was wrong with those people who showed up on a daily basis, surrendering to the capitalistic maneuverings of what was basically a glorified coffee and pastry shop? And not very good pastries at that. Get a coffee maker and a bottle of sweet flavored syrup. Wake up ten minutes earlier. It's just a plant seed. (Though being a gardener, I'd like it on that front.)
The day I surrendered to the magic bean, everything changed. Literally. I figured out the perfect amount of calories I needed to consume prior to coffee ingestion to ensure the lovely effects of caffeine without the miserable sidebar issues I previously experienced. Because my body, unlike my mom's or husband's, DOES register caffeine. Soy lattes and those $2 summer treat receipts were my best buddies during my trip to California. They felt good and tasted good. Seeing the trademark store signage set off Pavlovian-like responses in my nervous system. Within a week, I was emboldened enough to try adding extra shots. Forget wimpy weak brews -- I needed to taste strength on my palate. That slightly 'earthy mixed with ashes' aftertaste -- needed that, too! Yeah! Achieving gold card status suddenly became quite important: I wanted to have mine in hand before my mom and brother. I soon discovered cafe Americanos. What could be better than a marriage of black coffee and espresso?! And then those delightful Christmas cups, so red and merry, turned up with the changing of the seasons. Someone told me about the salted caramel hot chocolates. Instant best friend for the holidays! Even better with a shot of espresso. LOADS better when a barista suggested I just alter a [soy] cafe mocha to save some money. Thanks, guy!
These days I tell my friends -- with a real grin, I might add -- that in this one instance, I'm thoroughly enjoying being manipulated in mind and checkbook by a corporate giant. I'm shameless. And, strangely, rather proud of it. For a gal who's often neck deep in serious introspection or serious life problems, its my fun. That's F-U-N. Safer than crack. Healthier than cigarettes.
And if I had to pick an actual FAVORITE location, it'd be the one in Napa. Just a stone's throw from the state hospital. Right there on the main drag, anchoring a strip mall, with the big comfy couch snugged into the far corner with the full windowed view of the parking lot and outside drinkers and smokers, just opposite the counter with its never-ending line of customers. I drove through in the mornings, eager to snatch up my awakening latte before my hospital outings; I entered with laptop and $2 treat receipt in hand for my iced latte after my visits with Gary. There I tapped out some of my best blog entries. I was close to brother. I was experiencing something new and totally outside of my regular cul-de-sac life. And who can forget those hapless surfer dudes who spilled out of that girl's car, along with their multiple beer empties in that cracked Styrofoam cooler, just as that police officer sauntered out of the Chinese place with his late lunch/early dinner in hand? Priceless. And me with a front row seat to the happenings. Stimulating stuff.
Thank you, Starbucks, for my half-year of living caffeinated. I'm enjoying the ride.
CLICK HERE to read the witty blog entry I referenced! DC Allen. Add him to your blog faves.
Hi! :)
ReplyDeleteThanks for the mention. Loved this post.
Christopher :)