Today was pretty routine. Some might say it was boring, even. But me? Boring or not, I cherish every day that I wake up on the green side of the grass. Know what I mean?
We got up late. Too late for our continental breakfast, again. We’ve been here two days and missed both time. Tomorrow, being a weekend, it will be open until 10 am, an hour later, so we might be able to make it down before it closes. I’m sure they serve delicious, very hearty fare. The most important part, however, is the coffee. Ummmmmm.
Our beautiful daughter, Jennifer, gets migraine headaches whenever she smells chocolate, of coffee. That is just so unfair. Two of the most important food groups, and she cannot partake of them. Makes me wonder what I ever did so wrong to inflict such a terrible thing on her.
I suffer from migraines, too, but love walking down the coffee aisle in any grocery store. It’s such a wonderful aroma that I fear I’ll embarrass Diane and start drooling or something. I know, she’s used to the drooling, but the smell of coffee makes it way worse. That’s about all I ever consume for breakfast … coffee. I eat bananas, too, and douse my coffee with hazlenut creamer, so it’s not just coffee. But it’s mostly coffee.
For 27 years I roamed the passageways of naval ships, and various shore facilities, clutching a crusty coffee cup in my hand, filling it every time I passed a coffee pot. I only drank it black, and I drank it right up until taps, or lights out at 10pm. Sometimes later than that. It never bothered me. The more bitter, the better. It wasn’t about the taste back then, it was just a need to carry around a coffee cup and an empty coffee cup isn’t normal. That cup never got washed, either. That was a rule because it supposedly ruined the flavor. I never believed that, of course, because, as I said previously, it wasn’t about the flavor. It’s a wonder I didn’t catch something really, really bad. Maybe I did and it just hasn’t manifested, yet. Maybe I’ll wake up and have it tomorrow because it lays dormant for 25 years before it strikes.
What ruined me and Diane for coffee was the first pleasure cruise we ever took. Cruise ship coffee is really strong, and tasty. We loved it so much that we promptly tossed out the Folgers when we got home, bought a coffee grinder, and enrolled in the Gavalia coffee of the week program. For a nominal fee they send us boxes filled with little bags of whole bean coffee from various parts of the world. All of them are good. I’d be perfectly happy with just one kind, all the time, since I now use creamer, all the time, but the variety is great for Diane. All she uses is sugar. I mistakenly took a sip of hers once and about gagged, then acquired a taste for it. I drank it that way for years. Then I went to Starbucks. It was the thing to do every Thursday morning toward the end of my civilian career. Instead of plain old coffee at an exorbitant price, I decided to have a Venti White Chocolate Mocha, no whip at an even MORE exorbitant price. I was hooked. Simply sugared coffee left me wanting. I needed more. I needed something that I could roll around in my mouth and feel the creamy substance absorb into my tongue, and the inner walls of my cheeks. Just like the VWCMNW.
After sampling a lot of different creamer flavors, I settled on hazelnut. I’m so stuck on that stuff that I just can’t drink coffee without it any more. We travel with it, even. It’s an addiction, I think. Not a terribly bad on, but an addiction, just the same.
I’m sorry … I didn’t mean to turn this into a confessionalistic episode, but there you have it. It’s done and there’s no turning back. Maybe I should add a picture. Haven’t taken many, and don’t have an recent ones, so I’ll just give you one of Breezie having a cat nap and call this good.