Coffee Love

January 5, 2008

I referenced my coffee addiction yesterday, so for today’s 200 words, I thought I’d wax poetic about my favorite thing to drink in the whole world.

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Ahhhh, coffee. The rich, delicious, life-giving elixir that I love and worship. I have so many ways of enjoying you. I can squeeze the life out of you using a French press. I can tamp you into a tight little disk and torture you through my espresso machine. I can boil you on the stove with an Italian espresso pot that magically defies gravity by pulling the water upwards through you and landing into the top bowl as wonder-brew. I can filter you through a manual drip, and watch you drip, like liquid gold, into the waiting, loving, carafe.

You smell so good! Pungent, strong, aromatic. Your scent speaks of character and power and personality.

Sometimes it breaks my heart to add milk to you. It seems blasphemous, sullying your dark, pure beauty. But I must confess, I do not possess the strength to consume you unadulterated. I must lighten you ever so-slightly with a dash of milk.

But you still maintain your character, even lightened. You take the swirls of cream with dignity and grace, incorporating them into your own golden crema, welcoming and loving them. When I drink you, life is good and all’s right with the world.

Snark and Soup

January 4, 2008

I need to write something snarky…I will write about the first thing that annoyed me today. Wait. I can’t write about the alarm clock. That won’t fly. Ok, I will write about the first thing that annoyed me after I had my first cup of coffee…because EVERYTHING annoys me before my first cuppa. So after that first sip, I turn on the boob tube, and guess who appears….

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My Food Network nemesis, Bobby Masa lovin’, arrogant ‘tude sportin’, and grill fetishin’ Flay. Grrr. Soup is the theme today…He just spent hours making chicken stock, and is now slicing and deep-frying fresh tortillas. Soup made the old school way, with time and wholesome ingredients. I can respect that. Plus deep-frying rocks. Wait a sec, did he just break out the can opener? He’s using canned hominy! And he’s shredding a store-bought rotisserie chicken. Dude! If you take the time to make your own stock, and fry your own goddamn tortilla chips, then roast your own bloody chicken and cook your own damn hominy. We’re at war, pick a side. Either go all-out cooked from scratch, or not. Sandra Lee, you too. “Semi-Homemade” my arse. But I forgive you because of your Cocktail Time segments, over-the-top themes, wacky tablescapes and hand-made placecards and favors. Gotta love an obsessive Type A. But back to the Flayster…who goes on to, and I quote, “Plate the soup.” No he didn’t! But yes he did. Stacking and garnishing away. I’m surprised he didn’t use a ring mold and squeeze bottle. Dahm you, Flay. Ruining a perfectly good bowl, er plate, of soup with frou-frou.

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Akita Adventures, Part 2

January 3, 2008

I miss my doggie Jacky…so I will continue the Jacky the Super Akita story for today…we’ll see how long it takes before I start bawling, then trolling the web for Akita adoption sites.

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A hint of lavender and a touch of summer rain. Mommy has tried cleaning again. She must have run amok with that evil blue spray bottle of yucky girly smells. Jacky tried to locate Pandie’s scent amongst the floral aroma, and found it. He followed it, majestic, fluffy, curly, white-tipped tail wagging furiously, to the laundry room, where he was assailed with more scents. It’s the blue powdery stuff that made me sick when I licked the side of the industrial-sized bucket, and the warm sheets that the Evil Poofy Giggling Bear whores on the Magic Box that Mommy loves almost as much as me.

Pandie? Are you here? You’re not playing with that Evil Poofy Giggling Dryer Sheet Whoring Bear are you? I hate that bear. I want to rip him to shreds. He’d probably giggle the whole time. Grrrr.

Jacky’s noble head suddenly flicked in the direction of the laundry basket. Pandie! Is that you? Jacky dashed over to the basket, and tipped it over. Jeans, jeans, jeans. I like Mommy’s jeans. She lets me slobber all over them. Ohhh, Pandie!! Jacky pulled Pandie out, and Pandie squeaked a greeting. Hello Pandie! I missed you, too.

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