The Big Blue Chill

Ok, I'm bouncing back from complete blogger lock up yesterday with the assistance of the idea generator.**

Today's topic: Name five things in your freezer

So without further ado, here are the first five things that came to mind while sitting at my desk at work:

1. Green chile

Only a small amount, but those few bags of the good stuff make me ridiculously happy.

Roasted it myself!

2.A bag of really, really good coffee

French roast. Ground for a melitta. Just. Yum.

Honestly, I'm not really supposed to drink coffee. It doesn’t agree with me or my tummy (or my esophagus, actually).

So when I indulge, it better be the ding-dang good stuff.

And this is it.

Served with real half and half and brown sugar, if you please.

3. A bottle of Siberian vodka

Hand carried to The Good Man by our friend who grew up in Siberia and made a visit home to see family. We coddle this one bottle of the good stuff like a colicky baby. It's deeeelicious. Smooth. Perfect.

Best when sipped straight from the freezer.

4. Frozen fruit

I'm a little bit obsessed with making smoothies. Fruit juice, almond butter, a little egg white powder for protein, and a bunch of frozen fruit.

Blend!

Totally addicted. Now...there is a LOT of sugar in there, so I have to limit it to only one or two a week. I could have a smoothie three or four times a day if I'd let myself.

Gah!

I get twitchy when we are out of frozen fruit. There is a Northwest Triple Berry Mix you can get at Costco that rocks the house. Marion berries, raspberries and blueberries.

Yes, please.

5. Several of those blue freezer thingies that you put in an ice chest.

What the hell is that blue stuff made of anyway?

Seriously. I've never had one break on me, but I always wonder what sort of biochemical hazard would occur if one of those bad boys was leaked out upon the world.

Hmm...maybe that's the basis for my new blockbuster screenplay. A truck carrying a load of those blue packs overturns. Through a series of unfortunate events, thousands of the blue packs are burst open.

The blue stuff takes on the world! Freezing things on contact. Sort of "The Blob" meets Medusa meets Outer Limits.

I like it!

**The idea generator has been pretty maudlin of late. Questions of death and dying, faith, etc. It just wasn't working for me. I need fun, silly and weird to get The Muse off the couch.

That's a Travesty!

What's a travesty?

This, this is a travesty!

I know a lot of people really like Coffee-Mate. A lot of people use Coffee-Mate. It's very popular.

A dear friend's husband is a self confessed Coffee-Mate hazelnut flavor addict. He stockpiles it in his fridge.

Weirdo.

Look, I'm here to tell you, this isn't a food product. I don't know what it is, but it is definitely NOT a food product.

The label says "contains milk ingredients".

Uh. "Milk ingredients?"

What in the seventeen kinds of sam hell are "milk ingredients?" That doesn't say "contains milk" or "contains cream" or "contains anything you'd recognize." No!

Milk ingredients. And oil. And a bunch of other things you can't pronounce.

There is a big box of these pods of crap-food in our break room.

It's the only option for lightening a terrible cup of coffee in the late afternoon when you are desperate for a cuppa and the coffee bar downstairs is closed.

Look, I'm inherently suspicious of any sort of dairy product, even a pseudo-dairy product, that doesn't spoil when you leave it out on the counter for weeks at a time.

Except for real butter...and even real butter has its time limits.

What is the half-life on a pod of Coffee-Mate? A billion years?

I personally enjoy a good splash of half and half in a cup of joe.

Or as I call it, half of the half, which makes The Good Man laugh.

So with no half of the half on hand, I used some of this Coffee-Mate "creamer." Cuz I ain't calling it creamer without them thar sarcastic quotes.

It's gross. It's oily. It's chemical-y.

Just. Ew.

So then I poured out the coffee and tried this, also available in the break room:

While sipping at this sort of tangy beverage from a package that does not include an ingredients list, I did a Google search. I didn't net any ingredients, but I found this image which shows the main box that the packets come in. The box says "contains no apple..." and the rest is blocked by the packet in front of the box.

I assume it says "contains no apple juice."

Which means...

This is ALSO not food. This is more chemical crap.

Gah!

I'm not any sort of Birkenstock wearing, tree hugging, raw food eating girl. I like as much red dye number whatever as the next guy.

But even I have my limits.

________________________________

***Note to my readers: I actually wrote this yesterday afternoon. Upon a solid reread today, I was struck by just how much I've been whining lately about the no-cost beverage choices at my new place of employ. I'm still new, and while I do have some work to do, I am also sitting around a lot.

Leaving me to my own devices is never a good idea.

As I become busier with my job, I suspect the beverage posts will die down.

Hopefully.

The Loneliest Decaf Drinker in the Office

It’s been a while since I was working in an corporate office atmosphere. Well, not that long, but less than a year, and it is amazing how fast you develop new habits.

Don’t get me wrong, working from home was great.

But other than The Feline, I didn’t have any coworkers to render their opinions on my style. Or quirks. Or the number of times I have to use the bathroom in a day.

And I didn’t have to suffer the politics of the break room.

When you get to buy your own coffee, you buy the *really* good coffee. And you make it in a Bialetti. Or a melitta. You make a strong aromatic brew. And you have real half & half on hand.

You enjoy the time and the inclination to savor a cuppa before you dive into the day’s work.

I’m here to tell you, I believe I have found the world’s repository for the absolute worst coffee in the world.

Made from one of those typical office makers that’s seen better days, it’s weak, usually burnt and really sort of dull.

Add to the equation that I can’t tolerate large doses of caffeine, so I am the ONLY person drinking decaf, thus I am the only person making up the orange topped pot. I get strange side looks like “why bother” as I make up the dull brown water.

But today I found a partner in crime. I was making up a crappy pot of decaf with a packet of coffee that is god only knows old (since, seriously, nobody drinks decaf), and one of my new coworkers happened by the break room.

“That really is terrible coffee, isn’t it?” he said.

“Yes,” I replied, not wanting to be too complainy on my first week of work.

“You know the coffee bar downstairs serves Peets, don’t you?”

Wha?

My head tilted like a dog who just heard kibble drop in the distant bowl.

“Excuse me?” I replied.

“Yeah. Right downstairs. Behind the elevators. Peets.” I could tell he used small words since I was making it clear I wasn’t the brightest bulb in the corporate sign.

“Wow, I didn’t know. Thank you,” I said.

He left the breakroom.

I dumped the freshly poured cup of decaf with fake creamer in it (gack) down the drain.

I RAN down stairs and found this coffee bar of which he spoke. I bowed as a worshipper honoring their god and ordered a latte.

Oh sweet mystery of life, at last I’ve found you.

Join Me at The Center of the Bell Curve

Over the weekend, I was playing a new online jigsaw puzzle game I found. Fun!

At the beginning, you are presented options, Easy, Medium or Hard.

I picked Medium.

When I buy salsa: mild, medium or hot?

I pick medium.

There is a really fabulous coffee place here in the Bay Area where they will add cream and sweeten your beverage to perfection.

When they ask me "how sweet would you like it?"

I reply "medium sweet."

My shoe size, 8½ is neither very large nor very small. It's somewhere in the middle. (and always sold out of the good styles)

My dress size is the same as that of the "Average American Woman"

I have medium brown hair. Neither light brown nor dark brown. Just there in the middle of the brown range (thanks to my hairdresser, it's also more brown than gray).

I live "mid-Peninsula."

We live a middle-income existence.

When they took my blood pressure on Friday, it was average. As was my temperature.

I'm even starting to take a look at being middle aged.

My god, why am I so blastingly AVERAGE?!

I wondered, while I did my medium hard jigsaw puzzle, who picks "hard" on this game, HOT for salsa, really sweet for their coffee and lives on those wispy ends of the bell curve of life?

Probably someone like Richard Branson, eh? Or that Steve Irwin guy before he passed. He probably could solve the "hard" puzzles.

Ah well. Actually, sometimes life's not so bad from the fat part of the Bell Curve.

At least I'm in good company.

Name your favorite kitchen gadget

Last weekend, I went to a book signing by Wona Miniati who is a coauthor of The Trader Joe's Companion, a fun cookbook with easy recipes.

Wona made a couple items for the audience so we could see some of the recipes in action.

As she was squeezing a lemon, she began to wax rhapsodic about the citrus juicer she was using, like this one:

She told us that it was her absolutely favorite ever kitchen gadget. She made it sound so enticing, it makes me want one!

And it got me to thinking...what is my favorite kitchen gadget?

Well, besides my Moka Pot for coffee (oh sweet love):

And my juicer (I was just singing to you this morning):

Which aren't really cooking gadgets, they are more for making The Delicious.

I'd have to say my absolute favorite kitchen gadget, the one I use for cooking all the time, never lets me down, always on my side, my god how did I ever live without it is...my garlic press (this one is exactly like mine):

Oh man, do I love that thing. *Squirt* and there's tasty garlic ready to rock and roll.

I have deep emotional ties to garlic.

It might be my favorite seasoning.

Although...it's a pretty close battle with:

Cumin is the wonder spice. Don't let anyone tell you different.

I believe if stranded on a deserted island with a head of garlic and a bottle of cumin, I could make knockout food to sustain. I really do!

Do you have a favorite gadget or spice? Let me know, I might end up with kitchen lust!

My (new) People!

My personal genetic heritage is what The Good Man calls "your typical Heinz 57 pan-European".

I'm German-Irish-Scottish-French.

And raised in New Mexico, so I have Hispanic roots, too.

The Good Man is Italian-English-Turkish-Lebanese.

Also a Heinz 57, but much different from my own. These are not all cultures I have a lot of background with, so I'm having a ball learning about my new family heritage.

My rock star Mom-in-Law (the Turkish/Lebanese side) has taught me much about delicious Mediterranean food. (I thought I'd had falafel before. I had not. I'd had a poor imitation. There is a HUGE difference).

Man, I can't believe how long I've been missing out on the good stuff!

And of course, I've always loved Italian food, but oh I had lots to learn.

Like coffee. Now, I like coffee. Ok, I love coffee. It doesn’t always love me back (acidy!). I try to cut back, but can't. And it's not even the caffeine that's a problem! I drink decaf!

I was holding strong, but then my Mom-in-Law gave us a peculiar little device called a Moka Pot. Ok, she gave it to us a while ago, but I've suddenly grown an unnatural attachment to it.

It looks like this.

Big deal, right? Just another way to make coffee?

No.

Oh no, no, no.

It's just another way to make THE MOST DELICIOUS COFFEE EVER!

It's way easy to use. Kind of fun, actually, and makes coffee super fast and delicious!

You don't need some fancy high dollar espresso machine! You need this little pot and a burner. And some coffee to go in there.

Details on how to use it from my Mom-in-Law's blog, Musing By Moonlight (used with permission).

__________________

What is more delightful than an espresso (that's eSpresso, not eXpresso) to help move through the day or a caffè correto to end a good dinner and aid digestion? This is an easy-to-learn process using a Bialleti Moka Express, an aluminum stove-top espresso maker. It's well worth the negligible effort. I prefer the moka pot to a machine because I feel more connected to the process and the product, it takes up less real estate in the kitchen, and it's budget wise.

Always, we start with the freshest ingredients: water - clear, cold, and filtered - and freshly ground dark-roasted coffee. My coffee of choice is Peet's Espresso Forte® . Have it ground on #3. Buy it when you know you will use it right away, even if you purchase beans and grind them at home.

The Bialetti Moke Express comes in three parts: the reservoir for water, a coffee filter with funnel for the grounds, and a top piece to capture the espresso as it bubbles up from the bottom. This coffee pot comes in various sizes to make coffee for just two or for up to twelve.

(This is Karen, here's a photo:

)

Directions:

Fill the reservoir with water to just below the steam valve. Put the coffee filter in place and fill it with grounds, tamping them lightly with the back of the spoon. Screw the top piece in place.

Put the Moka Express on the highest heat. Watch it because it is quickly done. The espresso will gather in the top chamber. Serve immediately. Sweeten if you like. If you care to, you might add either a lemon peel or, for a caffè correto(corrected), a little grappa.

Caffè latte: One shot fresh, hot espresso for each six ounces of steamed dairy, nut, soy or hemp milk, your choice.
__________________________

Oh coffee heaven! I like mine with half and half and brown sugar.

I'm starting to like my new genetic heritage! A lot.

(By the by, while I prefer to use Peet's coffee too, since I've been cutting back on expenditures, I'm trying a decaf Italian (water processed) I found at Trader Joe's. Delicious!)

Sign o' the times

Reading a novel by screen writer and now author Chris Ver Wiel, and it's lovely and snarky and the language snaps.

Just 45 pages in, and the main character asks a good question.

These days, ya just don't see phone booths anymore.

So...if Superman needed to change into stretchy pants, where, exactly would the crime fighter go now?

Ver Wiel's answer?
.
.
.
.
.

A Starbucks bathroom.

Ah, a little bit of brilliance there.

A love story

A journey through the soul, told in the chosen format of crappy iPhone photos.

Oh coffee. How I love you so. (Yes, I know the cup is empty. It didn't last long. I slurped that thing through that pretty blue straw and uttered an "aaaaah" when finished.)

Yes, I love you oh so much. Sadly, you don't love me in return. You leave my stomach acidy, my esophagus crying out for relief and my adrenals asking for a nice day off.

It is a star-crossed love affair. And a fairly one sided love.

Ice cream, oh ice cream! Rich, creamy, frosty, tasty ice cream. How I adore you as you caress my mouth with your sugary creamy goodness.

But as much as I love you, you don't love me back the same way. You leave me phlegmy. Also, all that sugar doesn't help my already acidy tummy.

And you always seem to take up residence on my already poochy belly and round hips.

Damn you ice cream, for being so tantalizing and so not good for me!

Cheese! My sweet longtime lover, cheese! You and I go back to the early years. Remember all the grilled cheese sandwiches we shared? Sprinkling you over enchiladas and broiling until bubbly? Remember when I'd just hack off a slice and eat you as you are, because you and I are so simpatico like that?

Truly, you aren't terrible for me when enjoyed in moderation, but how can I possibly enjoy your delicious goodness in moderation! No, I indulge too much in my love and you join ice cream on my hips.

It's cruel, cheese, just too cruel. I mean, after all we've shared!!

Ah full fat ranch. You tempting, tempting fella. You flirt with me. Wink your little bottled dressing eye and beg me to partake.

Much like cheese, a little occasionally, fine. But who can have a *little* and why occasionally?

But you mock me. You taste so yum and then you turn on me and do mean things!

It's not right! I love you so much, why can't you show me a little kindness?

What's this? Oh, hey lettuce. What are you doing here? Hmm, yeah, uh, nice to see you too.

I have what can certainly be described as kind regards for you. I'm sure you're a very nice comestible.

You just don't...turn me on.

But you seem to *adore* me. Oh sure, you treat me so nice, giving me nutrients and not settling on my hips. Providing energy and fiber and you are such a hair parted down the middle, church on Sunday, help little old ladies across the street nice sweet gentle food.

It's just...I don't *want* nice!

I want wild! And passionate! And fascinating and rich complex textures!

I want to run with the bad kids and cut class and down twinkies and potato chips and stick my tongue out at "health" experts!

I want....I want.....

Hey, hey good lookin'.....what's your name? Wanna run around with me and coffee?

Oh, wait, who is that over there? Well hellooooo handsome!

Wanna take a walk on the beach, hand in hand, and watch the sun set? Wouldn't that be a nice way to spend some time together?

I know I'm flirting...I can't help it!

Oh wait, what's this?

Oh crap. That's not playing fair...

Hellloooooo lover!

Today: A Fable

Once upon a time, there was a beautiful princess...we'll call her...Karenita. This lovely princess was married to the most handsomest prince in the whole land.

But unfortunately for our lovely princess, every weekday, she was required to go and toil away the hours at the Imperial Tower of Doom. Gray clouds swirled overhead while poor Karenita was tormented by her oppressors.

There was one oppressor who was particularly a thorn in the side of our beautiful princess.

See, our lovely girl arrives to work in the morning tired and in need of something for breakfast. The princess keeps some food in the Imperial Tower office 'fridge, and also likes a spot of hot tea on the cold gray swirly cloud mornings.

Unfortunately for the princess, there lived in the break room a mean and nasty troll.

No really, this lady is like five foot nothing with a bad attitude and a chip the size of Texas on her shoulder.

For some reason, the Evil Break Room Lady can always sense when Karenita the Princess needs to have breakfast, and makes sure to hustle in there first, blocking the egress for our lovely girl to reach the 'fridge.

While Karenita is there heating up her food, Evil Break Room Lady makes nasty comments about how people don't clean up after themselves (despite the fact that Karenita scrupulously cleans up after herself) and self-importantly restocks the paper coffee cups (it's not her job, by the way, she's a very high paid executive admin) while dropping hairy eyeballs on the princess the whole time.

And then Evil Break Room Lady takes paper towels and cleans the countertops, sometimes pushing Karenita's bowl out of the way while she does. Karenita finds this to be very rude.

It's clear that Evil Break Room Lady doesn't like Karenita, but Karenita doesn't know why. The princess was raised to be kind and cordial and always says hello and thank you and excuse me.

Karenita believes that Evil Break Room Lady must be very unhappy with her menopausal lot in life, and all the hot flashes must make her cranky. Karenita thinks Evil Break Room Lady envies her still productive ovaries and plentiful estrogen.

The princess tries to be understanding, but it's kind of hard when someone gives you the equivalent of the finger with her face every morning. Karenita is just trying to make it through the day.

The princess has tried to be nice, to make conversation, to say "yeah, it's really bad when people leave water everywhere" but none of this works. Evil Break Room Lady has just determined that the princess is a lesser form of life.

And this doesn't make Karenita feel very nice as she starts each day.

In other news, the nicest person to Karenita in all the Imperial Tower of Doom is the janitor. The janitor thinks Karenita rocks and will make it a point to wave vigorously from across the room and say hi.

Karenita likes Mr. Janitor. He's a good man with a sucky job and he does it with life and verve and kindness.

So there's hope. Maybe Karenita knows she's not such a bad person after all.

And they all lived crankily every after.

For my own good

So in trying to feel better physically and mentally, I've made the choice to give up most of the sugar in my diet. Caffeine too, including decaf (it has some caffeine).

I'm ok on the caffeine part. That's no problem, I've never really been able to have that much and when I do, I feel like crap.

Oh but giving up the sugar. It's killing me.

I hear that quitting cigarettes is about the most difficult thing ever. I've never been a smoker, so I can't compare.

But I can say that Demon Sugar is whispering in my ear right now. "Just one cookie. It won't hurt. You'll feel so much better! That headache will go away! You'll have a little lift! Come on! Just one chocolate bar, what can it do?"

Gad, even this image makes me drool.

I gotsa problem!

Alternate spelling, alternate universe

You may recall from a post a while back that I use my secret agent 007 stealth first name when I order coffee and they ask for a name to write on the cup.

My secret agent name is Lucy. I use that name because it's:

1) easy to pronounce

2) easy to spell

3) heard clearly over the whooosh whooosh sounds of an espresso machine

I copied this from a friend (who has my same real first name), even borrowing her own made up nom de bebida, because of the ease of use.

Until this past week at the Honolulu airport.

They asked my name. I said Lucy. They nodded and wrote the name. I got my beverage and it wasn't until I was on the plane that I noticed.

You can't make this stuff up.

Y-y-y-y-y-ou w-w-w-wanna k-k-k-know w-w-what's e-e-e-vil?

This. This is what is evil:

That there is one each vanilla flavored iced coffee from McDonald's.

So, you know, I'm really not a McD's fan. I won't eat their food. Blech!

But recently SOMEONE, who shall remain nameless (and has the initials TGM) got me hooked on McD's sweet tea.

Damn, that stuff is good. Addictive too. Crack tea, we call it.

So this morning, in need of a "little something" to get the day started, I rolled through the drive through and decided to try an iced coffee.

I ordered a "large" thinking in Starbuck's sizes, and was SHOCKED when they handed this bucket of liquid out the window to me. It takes two hands to keep it steady!

So as I drove to work, I began sipping away at this beast.

You can see how much I had. Less than a third of the cup and suddenly the jitters set in.

I'll admit that I'm more sensitive than most to caffeine, but DAMN.

I had to put this into the fridge at work. If I drank the whole thing they'd have to hospitalize me!

It's tasty, I'll give 'em that, but not as addictive as the tea.

Fair enough, I tried the c-c-c-c-c-coffee. It should come with a prescription and a warning label!

: jitter :

Schadenfreude

–noun
satisfaction or pleasure felt at someone else's misfortune.

Yup. American society, in general, seems to love them some schadenfreude.

Some coffee fans get grim delight in Starbucks woes

Really? Why?

I mean, if you say to me, "Well, I don't really care for Starbucks coffee because it's too strong/weak/bitter/strange for me", then great. No one says you gotta like everything.

But if you say "feh! F--k 'em because they became so successful"…well that's just mean. And elitist.

So while the coffee snoots are busy scribbling bad poetry in their local coffee shop, feeling superior that Starbucks seems to be faltering, they seem to forget it was the coffee snoots themselves who made Starbucks what they are.

Starbucks used to be the low-down cool thing. It used to quietly be the "in" thing, where the coffee snoots went for a cuppa and conversation. Starbucks was filling an unfilled need. Or they created a need.

That is capitalism at it's finest!

So suddenly they go from being good to being dirt because they are worldwide? And making money? So neener neener now that you've come upon hard times?

As a Starbucks stockholder, I see this retrenching as a good thing, actually, for the long term health of the company.

It blows that people will be out of work and stores will pull out of neighborhoods, but I honestly believe "getting back to core competencies" is the right thing to do in this down economy.

Ah, that's just me being rational again. I hate it when I get like that…

(note to my favorite New Mexico Barista: Hang in there friend!)

Forbidden love.

I have lust in my heart.

It's a new lust, a fresh start.

This fascinating new thing caught my eye just less than two weeks ago when we moved into our new building. Ever since, I can't stop thinking about our encounters.

They leave me giddy. Happy. Jittery.

I'm lovestruck baby, I must confess.

And the object of my adoration is this strong, powerful, steely beast.

What's that, you ask?

Why, it's a coffee machine. But not just ANY coffee machine. Not the typical office industrial device that pushes brown water out of tired dried up grounds. No.

Gaze toward the top of that lovely thing. You'll see two plastic hoppers that contain WHOLE beans.

You select size, leaded or no, and push start and it takes beans, grinds them RIGHT THERE, and brews one delicious cup of coffee.

Now see, I'm not actually supposed to drink coffee.

For one, I can't handle the caffeine. High blood pressure and tired adrenals and just, I can't take the buzz.

So ok. Decaf.

I also have terrible reflux. And coffee, even decaf, is terribly acidy.
Problem is that I *love* coffee. And giving it up is difficult.

I usually limit it to on the weekends. Some decaf with breakfast or maybe an iced decaf from the local purveyor of deliciousness on a Saturday afternoon.

Last week we moved into the new office building and everyone was raving about this new coffee maker. I was like "feh!" Office coffee? No.

But when I arrived my new cubicle was not configured correctly and also my network didn't work, so for the first hour of my day, I stood around while people fixed the problems in my workspace.

So while waiting, I toddled down the hall to try out this new thing.

When I sipped the fresh ground, fresh brewed concoction, even with the crappy dried up powder creamer they have, I was like "hey…that's tasty!"

Tuesday, I brought in a real mug and a carton of half-n-half. Added a splash to my fresh ground love and siiiighed. So. Tasty.

I tried to keep it to a cup a day habit.

But this week slipped away from me. Suddenly I was having two in the morning. And another mid afternoon for a little "lift". Then I was drinking a cup on my way out the door to go home.

The Good Man commented on my coffee breath, so unusual for me!

It's probably time for rehab.

But I just…can't. All day long I hear the distinctive clicking of my new crush. It calls to me. Beckons me to the sea of warm half-n-half sweetened love.

If loving you is wrong, I don't want to be right.

Did I mention my crush also brews hot chocolate?

A nod to my oldest niece for the imagery of forbidden caffeinated romance. Thanks! How you drink a chai with espresso is beyond me. I'm scared to try, I might further my addiction.....:)

Nom de Bebida

Or, what's in a name?

I have a friend at work. She and I share the same first name. So imagine my surprise when one day sitting across the table from her, I noticed her Starbucks cup had the name "Lucy" scrawled across the side.

I asked why. She said that Lucy is easy to spell so it ensures quickness at the register. Plus, she isn't always comfortable with her real name being shouted out across a busy work morning crowd. As a single gal, she's safety minded, and I respect that.

I liked the idea and being all incognito appealed to me. And since she and I share "Karen Power" I decided to adopt Lucy as my Nom de Bebida as well. Every time I'm asked for my name, I feel like a super undercover agent giving my false name. I'm SO stealth.

I've used it so much, that when The Cute Boy™ and I go for coffee, he'll tell them my name is Lucy. I've only been "busted" once when I didn't have enough cash and handed over my credit card right as I was being asked for my name. I said Lucy just as he looked at my card, and then looked at me like I'd gong luh-luh in the head.

So this morning, I went into my favorite coffee establishment. I guess I've been hitting the coffee a bit hard lately, because the barista recognized me and said "Good morning, Lucy!"

I smiled and gave a hearty "Good Morning" in return. All these people think my name is Lucy. Why does that give me a secret thrill?

I wonder if a lot of people have a Nom de Bebida? I wonder if I know anyone who is a barista that I could ask?

Happy Friday to all my incognito friends…Long live the secret coffee schlurper!






Photo by Karen Fayeth