For some reason my husband has recently taken a very strong liking to a certain popular coffee establishment. In fact it has almost become a daily feeding of his addiction.
We've tried to reign in the urge and keep it to a minimum of 2 or 3 times a week without much luck. With the rising cost of gas, I think we will soon have it down to mostly to Saturday and or Sunday.
He's also awakened the java monster that must be fed daily in our daughter. And oh honey does she get her feelings hurt if we don't wake her early Saturday morning and take her with us. Actually I believe it's the grown-up feel of holding the warm cup in her hand and hanging out with adults, you know the social aspect of it all, rather than a true java addiction.
At least for her. My husband is definitely a fallen member of Starbuck's Anonymous. I only get decaf so I am just along for the flavor.
Our son just goes for the breakfast.
I am definitely a morning person. Not many of us actually exist in the world I know, but I love waking up before the rest of the family to putter around the house, read, write, whatever. I get so much done. Apparently NOT writing on the blog has been one of them. Sorry.
This way of starting the weekend together has come to mean a lot to me. Time with my family and my coffee early in the morning.
And then there's the people. There are all kinds of earthlings that inhabit our world, and most of them frequent a Starbuck's. Most of them are at I-10. And I love to watch them all.
My mom used to say "to each his own". But then again, she used to say "said the old lady as she kissed the cow" right afterwards so don't put too many peaches in her basket. But scary enough, I have to agree with her. If we all had the same personality, the rainbow would be boring. Or something like that.
Last Saturday there were several coffee patron's sitting outside enjoying the cooler air and the morning sun. One was an older gentleman, rather distinguished. He reminded me of a character straight from the movies - very stereotypical of of someone from the north and of a certain nationality - one which I won't mention because I mean no, and I mean absolutely no offense. But, I know somehow, somewhere it might get taken. So fill in your own stereotype here.
The other gentleman was middle aged, weathered looking, smoking a cigarette, talking to himself and wearing some well worn clothing that was basically the same color all over.
Dirt brown.
My first impression was that he was homeless. I won't say for certain he wasn't, but as time passed I realized he was very...different. He had something on the table in between the ashtray and his coffee.
And he was petting it.
I kept looking at this greyish, round, computer mouse sized something on his table. I was totally fixated on the object. What would he be petting like that? Was it a mouse? Or God forbid a rat? I couldn't figure out what it was without walking right up to check it out. And since he was on the different list, I figured he might not take a liking to my perusing his personals all close like that. So I just watched and waited for a better glimpse of the...um...thing.
Well, we finished up our breakfast, our coffee and we got into the car. That's when it happened.
The object he had cooed at and carefully petted all this time....stood up, shook itself off, lept off of the table and flew right in to the side of our car with a resounding thud. I'm thinking 'What the heck? Poor thing...'
We (my family) looked all over for the rescued bird and could not find it anywhere. Mr. Dirt Suit simply walked off talking to himself.
So, Mr. From the North took it upon himself to tell us the story. According to him, the dirt clad gentleman had picked up the bird after it had flown straight into the Starbuck's window. (Perhaps the bird had needed a coffee fix too.) Where upon Mr. Dirt Suit had picked it up, rescusitated it, I didn't ask how, and had spent the last hour talking to it and petting it while it recovered.
This seemed to really impress Mr. From the North and give him absolute hope in humanity.
"That is amazing. Isn't that amazing? I tell you, that's just amazing that he would do that. There are good people I tell you. Good, good people."
This did not impress me nor did it give me hope in humanity. However it did make me think,
"Hmm, that would be something to blog about."
We've tried to reign in the urge and keep it to a minimum of 2 or 3 times a week without much luck. With the rising cost of gas, I think we will soon have it down to mostly to Saturday and or Sunday.
He's also awakened the java monster that must be fed daily in our daughter. And oh honey does she get her feelings hurt if we don't wake her early Saturday morning and take her with us. Actually I believe it's the grown-up feel of holding the warm cup in her hand and hanging out with adults, you know the social aspect of it all, rather than a true java addiction.
At least for her. My husband is definitely a fallen member of Starbuck's Anonymous. I only get decaf so I am just along for the flavor.
Our son just goes for the breakfast.
I am definitely a morning person. Not many of us actually exist in the world I know, but I love waking up before the rest of the family to putter around the house, read, write, whatever. I get so much done. Apparently NOT writing on the blog has been one of them. Sorry.
This way of starting the weekend together has come to mean a lot to me. Time with my family and my coffee early in the morning.
And then there's the people. There are all kinds of earthlings that inhabit our world, and most of them frequent a Starbuck's. Most of them are at I-10. And I love to watch them all.
My mom used to say "to each his own". But then again, she used to say "said the old lady as she kissed the cow" right afterwards so don't put too many peaches in her basket. But scary enough, I have to agree with her. If we all had the same personality, the rainbow would be boring. Or something like that.
Last Saturday there were several coffee patron's sitting outside enjoying the cooler air and the morning sun. One was an older gentleman, rather distinguished. He reminded me of a character straight from the movies - very stereotypical of of someone from the north and of a certain nationality - one which I won't mention because I mean no, and I mean absolutely no offense. But, I know somehow, somewhere it might get taken. So fill in your own stereotype here.
The other gentleman was middle aged, weathered looking, smoking a cigarette, talking to himself and wearing some well worn clothing that was basically the same color all over.
Dirt brown.
My first impression was that he was homeless. I won't say for certain he wasn't, but as time passed I realized he was very...different. He had something on the table in between the ashtray and his coffee.
And he was petting it.
I kept looking at this greyish, round, computer mouse sized something on his table. I was totally fixated on the object. What would he be petting like that? Was it a mouse? Or God forbid a rat? I couldn't figure out what it was without walking right up to check it out. And since he was on the different list, I figured he might not take a liking to my perusing his personals all close like that. So I just watched and waited for a better glimpse of the...um...thing.
Well, we finished up our breakfast, our coffee and we got into the car. That's when it happened.
The object he had cooed at and carefully petted all this time....stood up, shook itself off, lept off of the table and flew right in to the side of our car with a resounding thud. I'm thinking 'What the heck? Poor thing...'
We (my family) looked all over for the rescued bird and could not find it anywhere. Mr. Dirt Suit simply walked off talking to himself.
So, Mr. From the North took it upon himself to tell us the story. According to him, the dirt clad gentleman had picked up the bird after it had flown straight into the Starbuck's window. (Perhaps the bird had needed a coffee fix too.) Where upon Mr. Dirt Suit had picked it up, rescusitated it, I didn't ask how, and had spent the last hour talking to it and petting it while it recovered.
This seemed to really impress Mr. From the North and give him absolute hope in humanity.
"That is amazing. Isn't that amazing? I tell you, that's just amazing that he would do that. There are good people I tell you. Good, good people."
This did not impress me nor did it give me hope in humanity. However it did make me think,
"Hmm, that would be something to blog about."
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