Do you take sugar in your coffee? 1 teaspoon or 2?

I remember when I moved up to Olympia, Washington in 1987. There was this incredible and edgy new Coffee Roaster in town, Batdorf and Bronson. This was well before Starbucks became the rage and was situated on every street corner in America.

On my first visit I sat down at the counter and ordered some crazy (at the time) concoction. I think they called it an iced cappuccino, but really, it was anything but that. It came in a large glass, poured so that the espresso and 1/2 and 1/2 separated, creating these wonderful layers, almost too pretty to stir. It was one of the most delicious things I had ever tasted. It was like drinking an adult milkshake, without the guilt. I mean, come on, it was coffee.

Now, loving coffee like I do, I really appreciate the idea behind the coffee house. The gathering place where friends meet and conversation is cultivated. And for many years, it felt that way to me. It was a place geared towards adult and the adult beverage. But slowly it changed. Everything about it changed.

Starbucks and the other large chains became the place to bring your kids. It became the Ronald McDonald playland for the hip young moms and the grandmother's with their little grandchildren in tow. A place where they could get their "coffee" and buy the kids a little something as well. What's the problem with that, you might ask? Well, for starters, what we are now calling "coffee" is really just a major sugar high in disguise. Actually, it's not even in disguise, and it's not coffee. It's in a cup called a "Grande"~ it is filled with caramel, vanilla or chocolate syrups and topped with whipped cream and another helping of caramel, or . . . yes, yes, I know, everyone loves them.  And what's wrong with giving our kids a little treat?

Only about 15 tsps of sugar!

But they are not a special treat anymore, not a once in awhile delight.  They have become a part of our daily lives.  They say most people now average spending $90 a month on "coffee" ~ the drinks we buy outside the home. And the cost is much larger than the dollar amount we are spending.

Now I must admit, years ago, during the winter, I got into the habit of getting a Starbucks "tall, non-fat, 2-pump mocha" on my way to work, at least 4 times a week. Later in the summer, I would treat myself to a Coffee Bean & Tea Leaf Vanilla Blended. A small one. Oh, how much I loved them! I haven't had one in a long time and the other day I felt I wanted to treat myself. It was the first time I ever asked the barista how much sugar the small Vanilla Blended contained. He didn't know, so he went to look it up. He came back over and said "not too bad, it has about 44 grams of sugar." 44 grams! That comes out to about 10 teaspoons of sugar in that one small drink!  I ordered an iced coffee instead.

What we have started here is an awful habit and for some, addiction, in our young people. I see teens with these monstrous sugary "coffee" drinks and I can now see that it's no wonder we have such an obesity and early childhood diabetes problem in this country, and spreading quickly to many more I might add. We have got to get our sugar addiction under control, as consuming sugar only leads us to craving it more and more. (And just an FYI ~ Starbucks Grande Caramel Frappaccino comes in at a whopping 59 grams of sugar.)

I was really sad to learn about the sugar content in my favorite Iced Vanilla Blended. One more item on my "never to do" list. I don't see it though as deprivation, but more, a new found appreciation and dedication to my health. There are other ways to treat your taste buds and get that warm and cozy feeling without harming yourself in the process.You can recreate many of your favorites. For example, when this fall, Starbucks re-introduces their crowd pleasing, Pumpkin Spice latte, do yourself and the ones you love a favor, and make a healthier version of it at home.

You can't always get what you want ~

Mick said it, our Mothers said it, maybe even our best friend said it, but we still didn't think it to be true.  First of all, if you can't always get what you want, then who is it that gets to decide what you need? God, the angels, the universe, maybe PitBull (I know you want me, I know you need me)?  There are two sides to every story, two sides to every coin, one side tells us that we are in control of our destiny, that we make these decisions.  While the other reminds us that the future is not ours to see, that fate has the upper hand.  Is this a mind fork in the road of life?  You need to believe one way or the other.


There are some rules for setting intentions, since intentions are believed to get you what you "want" ~ the three main elements needed are to know exactly what you want, visualize the desired result, and expect the result to happen.  They say intention is that magical combination of will, motivation and desire.  But there is one small caveat, one little disclaimer when it comes to working with intentions, it goes like this;  All that you desire can be yours if your heart is pure, your intentions clear and your goals are in your best interest. 

Hmmm ~ pure heart, I think so, intentions clear, I believe so, in my best interest, well, I thought so, so I am going to go with a yes on this one.  So, if all that I am working towards, putting my energy into, is not in my best interest according to some universal wise man who has decided to keep it a secret until much later, how do you know?  How do you ever know if something is in your best interest?  It makes me wonder, all of the things, the experiences that I have received in my life, the things that really weren't that wonderful, was it just the lessons learned then that were in my best interest?  It seems there is always someway around this stuff.  I don't know.  I thought my intentions were clear, my heart pure but apparently the things that I think I want, like love, money, stability, and happiness aren't necessarily in my best interest right now according to what the "master know it all" has in mind for me.


Life is full of lessons, items bought and sold, no guarantees, and when it comes to time there is definitely a no return policy.  You live with all you've accumulated, good and bad.  There are always those few constants in life and I've realized that those are the things I need to focus on, pure heart, clear intentions and in my best interest.  Those things of course include my family and dear friends.  I guess it might contain unconditional love.  And along with the people I love, there are other areas that feel they are always in my best interest; there is the sun, the moon, the ocean, nature in general, highways, BMW's (even when they are behaving badly) and my one daily reminder that life is good ~ my morning cup of coffee.  Sometimes that might be all we need to start another day, to roll out of bed, put one foot in front of the other, breathe.  Yes, Folgers, you got it right, coffee, the best part of waking up.  Joni Mitchell had the dilemma, "love or money", mine right now seems to be love or coffee.  Think I'm going to go with the coffee ~ Starbucks, Peets, Coffee Bean, Stumptown, my loves, you never seem to fail me.

Everything is amazing right now and nobody is happy ~ Louis CK

Leaving to catch an early morning flight out of Sacramento last week, my semi-upbeat mood quickly faded, faster than my last root touch-up, leaving me irritable and feeling like a glass half empty. I had barely packed the car, buckled my seatbelt, inserted my favorite CD, drove a miniscule mile to merge on the freeway when I immediately encountered a traffic accident. Slam on the breaks! The traffic alert sign said in bright orange letters "Accident Ahead" while what I really thought should be flashing in neon was "Idiot Driver Up Ahead". Yes, there was fog, there was traffic, I hadn't had my Starbucks and definitely not enough sleep, but my God, watch where you're going people! I already mentioned my glass was at least half empty, right? And speaking of the half empty or half full analogy, I saw this and had to share it ~

You gotta love that. Anyway, back to the story.

When I finally made it to the airport, parked in the economy lot, caught the shuttle, made it over to the terminal, I was surprised to find that once I entered through the revolving doors it was a completely new terminal, one I had not been to before. Nothing looked familiar and I thought momentarily that they had dropped us off somewhere very very wrong. Entering now in the baggage claim area with it's uber chic architecture, spacious and light, shiny escalators and dramatic glass elevators that take you to the next level where you will catch the tram to the other terminal.

The new interior had some great art pieces, including an exquisite over sized branch and crystal hanging sculpture that was stunning, competeing with the finest of art galleries. Walking quickly to the boarding area there was an almost eerie quiet, like the Sacramento Tule fog, a hushed atmosphere, usually reserved for a museum or library. The other passengers seemed to move in slow motion, almost in a Stepford Wives kind of fashion, looking straight ahead, like we had all been dropped into a scene from the Twilight Zone. At least that was how I was feeling and how I perceived my other fellow travelers to be feeling as well.

We boarded the plane, an Alaskan/Horizon Q400, two seats on either side of the aisle, too small for my taste. I was seated in the window seat when luckily a rather average sized woman sat in the aisle seat next to me. Average for Americans anyway, most assuredly overweight by many other standards. But at least there wasn't spilling flesh being shared between the two of us as many times seems to be the case. But I still have the same problem with the arm rest situation. It drives me crazy and I can't help being obsessed with this every flight I take. There are two passengers and one inside arm rest. Who gets it? Well the woman next to me had no problem taking possession of said arm rest. She was bigger than me, her hair much shorter, arms more muscular, not that I am implying anything by this or even if I was, there's nothing wrong with it. What I think I am saying here is that she was more Yang to my Yin. But damn, why do I have so much trouble claiming the friggin arm rest?

As I fastened my belt, making myself as comfortable as humanly possible, I looked out the scratched up window and saw that I was seated directly next to the propeller. I took this photo from my window.

I am not used to being on such a small plane and the sight of a propeller flooded my mind with all kinds of fear and set my imagination on high gear. Perhaps I had a bad experience as a child with those little spinning pull string saucer toys that kids would aim at one another, I doubt it, but it is a possibility. As they spun wildly round and round, faster and faster, I kept visualizing them spinning right off, slicing the plane in two, along with my head, decapitating me somewhere over Redding or Crater Lake. I wasn't sure when this disaster would happen, but I was sure it would. Whenever I fly, before takeoff I always look around the plane, take stock of the other passengers as I like to see who I might be spending my last few minutes or hours on earth with. I know, sick you say.

In the row in front of me I was "lucky" enough to have a mother with a baby on her lap in one seat and her little toddler in the seat directly in front of me. Yes, that really is a photo of the real him. Now, I don't know why I am like this, but when I am on a plane I want to be left alone, don't want to socialize with people I don't know and might possibly die with, I just want to be left to my own thoughts, my book or the delicious snacks that will soon be served (and actually I had the best little Biscoff biscuits ~ such a pleasant surprise and welcome change from the standard pack of 7 peanuts).

So while the little boy in front of me was cute enough, I don't want to be in charge of entertaining ~ Nanny material I am not. He kept reaching back trying to touch me or steal a biscuit, I'm not sure. Or he would stand on his chair and look over the seat at me while I gave the obligatory smile, secretly hoping his drool wouldn't land on my knee. I tried to act somewhat amused by this child just in case his mother should catch a glimpse of me, I didn't want her to see me scowling and out me for the bitch I can really be.

So after all my complaining about my flight, the other passengers, about getting to and from, I just had to post this video of Louis CK. He was a guest on Conan O'Brien and if you are not familiar with him, my opinion is that he is a very crude and vulgar comedian and a little CK goes a long way. But this bit is good ~ really really good. The only thing I disagree with here is that this attitude is isolated to a single generation ~ sadly, I believe we all own it.

Meet me at my office

I am actually sitting in a coffee shop, The Coffee Bean & Tea Leaf on Coast Village Road, writing this blog. This is about my 110th blog that I've posted on The Coffee Shop Diary and it is the first blog that is actually being written in a coffee shop as opposed to being about a coffee shop or about wishing I had a coffee shop. I am just enjoying a cup of tea, chai tea to be exact, with it's exotic spices, a splash of cream and one stick of honey. Can't get much lovelier than that. You might be wondering why I am having tea when I am always talking up coffee. To be honest, I already had my coffee this morning. From Starbucks. Yes, Starbucks, so shoot me.

Today it is a bit overcast and that makes me happy. You can only have so many days of sunshine, of absolutely beautiful weather before you beg the skies to give you a little darkness, a scattering of clouds, a little chill so that you can stay inside and not feel consumed by guilt. When the weather is as beautiful for as often as it is here, you sometimes feel the pressure to be outdoors, to be more physically active. I on the other hand prefer to be more mentally active. I like to take my frequent walks but I don't take them too seriously. By that I mean that I don't wear walking shoes (I still wear my cowboy boots), I don't wear any kind of athletic clothing, no iPod in ear, no counter on my belt telling me the miles walked or the calories burned. It doesn't matter to me. Perhaps it should, but it doesn't.

As I sit here, the place is pretty crowded, and I can hear tidbits of the conversations at the nearby tables. Lots of women here, lots of foreign accents, words swarming around like "oil", "taxi drivers" and "real estate". It sounds like they all have a lot going on in their lives, like they might be among the chosen few. Well, of course they are, I am sitting in Montecito, California, the home to the likes of Michael and Kirk Douglas, Ty Warner, Drew Barrymore, Carol Burnett, Julia Louis-Dreyfus, and Gods right hand woman, Oprah Winfrey, just to name a few. I am here, so I am hopeful that I am among the chosen few as well. Needless to say, the conversation consists of subjects that do not include trips to Costco, hamburger noodle casserole and PTA meetings (not that there's anything wrong with that!), but I must confess it does make for more interesting eavesdropping.

I use to think that the people who brought their computers or sat for hours in the coffee shop were nothing more than posers. That for them the coffee shop had become a replacement for the bar scene (for those of us too old or uncomfortable to be hanging in the bars; Man, those were the good ole days!), but now that I have been coming to my new favorite WiFi spot, I find that there is comfort in the dull roar of conversation, the smell of the coffee, the energy of the people coming in and out and surprisingly, I get a lot done. It is wonderful, free office space just for the price of a cup of tea, or coffee, or decadent pastry. You really can't beat that now can you? You can even have your clients visit you at this office. I am seeing it all around me, many little business meetings going on.

The best part is that you are not alone and yet you can be completely alone. It is like being in your own home, in a different part of the house, you can hear the family talking, the clanging of pots and pans in the kitchen and it feels warm, safe and comfortable. Like fried chicken and mashed potatoes, even amid the foreign languages and the strangers faces, it feels like somewhere I know, from long ago, a connection, a sense of belonging.

After all these years of their existence, I am still always amazed by the success of the American coffee house. I have always considered the coffee house to be a place for me to get coffee, to meet friends, to dream of owning one, to spend an incredible amount of money on my daily habit. But now that it has also become my new office, along with all my other (un)poser office mates, I wonder if they will let me bring in a more comfortable chair?

Under the Big Top

Welcome 2012, I can't say goodbye to 2011 fast enough. This has been my year from Hell, my life a full blown circus production with all the old fashioned acts. Life under the circus tent - complete with a few clowns, the magicians who make people magically appear in front of our eyes, the disappearing acts where people disappear without a trace, not a sign or word from them ever again.

We even have the standard circus freaks, me, not quite officially the bearded lady at this point in time but I'm afraid if I let things go, give it another year or two, this circus act might be reinstated, with me as the headliner. Another subject all together, but ladies, you know what I'm talking about. These prickly little whiskers that now seem to pop up faster than another corner Starbucks or strip mall. But I'll save that subject for a later blog.

Yes, January 2011 started out immediately with a friend going MIA - a friend with whom I had shared a very deep and personal bond - or at least I thought so. His disappearance almost drove me mad. After many attempts to reach out to him, he did finally surface one day in early August in the form of a scathing email. But it was an email that was so vicious and made no sense that I could never really be convinced that it came from him.

Not long after that, another friend, that I had known for at least 10 years, after many long conversations, topics covering religion to politics, to how people can treat each other so badly, disappeared. Just like that, one day he was gone. Apparently slipped into quicksand somewhere, the Bermuda Triangle or a long lasting coma . I made a few attempts to find him too, but I was already tiring of this search and rescue game that I had embarked on many months earlier.

Then September rolls in, my ex-partner shows up unexpectedly right in front of my eyes. Having last heard from him while he was supposedly at a hunting camp in Maine, only to see him materialize right on my next door neighbors doorstep one week later! Amazing, in the blink of an eye ~ just like that! Magic!

And to end the year with a bang, a new friend ~ one that gave me a bit of hope, apparently buried himself alive in his own dirt and confusion. And with his burial went that small flicker of hope that I had for the immediate future, for 2012. A hope that this one at least was honest, transparent, no trickery up his sleeves. And in all fairness, I guess for all of these "friends" it wasn't so much trickery as cowardliness. A trait they all seem to share.

In the Wizard of Oz, the Lion asks for courage. And this is what I wish for all of my circus friends that have such a hard time being real. To speak the truth, to face your fears, to live courageously~ and I plan to do the same. I discovered in 2011 that the circus life is not for me. So instead of running away to join the circus, I plan in 2012 to run away from the circus and follow the yellow brick road instead. I want courage, faith, truth, loyalty, a brain, all these things that maybe Oz can provide me. But if nothing else, if I can't have all of those, I know I can at least give myself a lifetime supply of Nair facial hair remover, and that's not a bad way to start the year.

Sharks and Hearts

I'm giving up my Carrie Bradshaw persona, one of being over analytical, over sensitive, over forgiving when it comes to relationships and am now going to proudly take on the Samantha Jones, I love you, but I love me more attitude.

I've been single now for a little while - never expected it in my mid 50's, but then again, none of us know what awaits us in our future. Sure, we make plans, we plan on forever, but forever lives in our heads and is felt in our hearts but that doesn't mean it exists in the physical realm at all.

Dating at this point in time is very different than when you are in your 20's or 30's. There is a feeling of now or never, don't waste my time, put all your cards on the table, life stories are shared in a matter of hours. We don't have the luxury of time, of getting to know each other slowly ~ steeping like a good English tea in a fabulous little tea house - we are more like a quick cup of coffee that we grab through the Starbucks drive-through, gulping it down quickly on the interstate.

Being middle aged and meeting people whom are also middle aged (ok, I know, I am taking some liberty here with the definition of "middle-aged", but this is my blog) is a whole lot different than meeting people in your 20's and 30's. In some ways we feel even more connected, like old war buddies, we've been through similar battles. And all battles impart scars and leave you with an entirely different outlook than before you went to war, a bit jumpy, edgy, nervous and spending more time than you like inside your own head. We come wearing our armbands of compassion, but we also secretly pack our fears and scepticism inside our boots.

I've been amazed by the stories I've heard; about good love gone bad. About dealing with users, cheaters, fakers, great pretenders, thief's of the heart, thief's of the soul. And these stories are not confined to one gender, they cross borders, they do not discriminate. If you are single at this age in your life, you have more than likely at least once fallen into the shark tank of love, got seriously chewed up, luckily spit out, only to land on dry ground, bleed a bit and wait to be resuscitated, hopefully with all limbs still intact. They say in every life, inside every person, there is a heart once broken. Some get just slightly cracked while others get completely pulverized.

Pul-ver-ize

v. pul-ver-ized, pul-ver-iz-ing, pul-ver-iz-es

*1. To pound, crush, or grind to a powder or dust

2. To demolish

* Great if that involves food and some kind of kitchen appliance, not so great on a heart or any body part.

But no matter how much damage has been done, how much hurt we have endured, we still want to try it again. It is why we are alive. To make that connection. To feel passion, intensity, heat. I heard a line the other day about love, and losing love. It was something pertaining to the fact that when your heart is broken, when you hurt, you know it was a love that was worth having. Pretty profound, even if the line came from Phil on an episode of "Modern Family" so not sure if it really is true, but I like how it sounds. It is always amazing to me the strength of the human spirit, the will to live, the will to love, the will to keep going, to keep having faith. Faith in something. We all want to believe. If we can't have Santa, the tooth fairy, the results promised from the "As seen on TV" ab exercise machine, we can always hold on tight to that belief in the power of love.

I want to fall in love again, or I should say, be in love again. The falling part isn't so good. And it isn't love that people are afraid of, it is what happens to us if we lose it. Nothing feels worse. But like car keys, your pin number, occasionally your own mind, it does create panic when you lose them, but it sure feels good when you get them back.

Oh, for Peet's sake!

I don't typically turn the TV on first thing upon waking, but yesterday morning after I climbed out of bed, sprayed my face with a fine mist of Evian and filled my coffee cup, I turned on the morning news to get the latest update on Japan.  Like everyone else I have been following the events closely, feeling it so deeply in fact that I broke down crying last night while watching some of the families dig through the rubble that was once their homes, their families, their lives.  I turned the channel and watched more head shaking, sickening news, Gaddafi's killings, the protesting in Bahrain.  Twenty years after the the Rodney King police brutality incident in L.A., I can still hear him, "Can't we all just get along?" - I guess not.  And I will never understand.

Acquisitions, ownership, borders, be like me, give to me, always wanting more, is there ever enough?  As the ticker tape ran across the bottom of the screen I swore I saw something that looked like "Starbucks to buy Peets".  No, no, say it isn't so.  On the scale of tragedies, I get that this probably doesn't even merit mentioning.  Nothing more than a mere bug smudged on the bottom of my shoe.  It's like asking for a raise when the company has just filed Chapter 11 or praying to God when he has put all of his phone lines on hold.  "Excuse me God, I know you are really busy right now, but if it's not asking too much and you happen to get an extra minute or two while dealing with all of the death, destruction and utter devastation going on in the world, could you please help me to lose this extra ten pounds by summer?"  You know it's selfish and wrong, but you still have to ask.

We all need a distraction from the pain and suffering in life.  We have many diversions to choose from; drugs, alcohol, food, sex, gambling, shopping, Nutella, or perhaps praying for the frivolous, take your pick.  I am a sinner like the rest of mankind so I indulge in a couple of those on occasion, but my main distraction right now is my coffee.  Either the coffee I am drinking or the company that is selling it. That said, I don't want Starbucks to buy Peets.  I think Peets coffee is better than Starbucks. The physical place still attracts a more mature crowd, people actually sit longer, meeting friends or business associates, and read the paper on Sunday morning.  And I'm not talking about reading it on their iPad (though some do), they also read the real "what's black and white and read all over" version.

Logos through the years

If you've read any of my past blogs, you know my love/hate relationship with Starbucks.  In the yin and yang of life, my attitude towards Starbucks is getting out of balance.  The hate side actually seems to be expanding. It might have something to do with the changes associated with their 40 year anniversary.  The new logo, which I don't like, but I do understand.  Howard Schultz says that the new logo "embraces and respects their identity plus evolves the company to a point that's more suitable to the future."  No kidding.  The future of multiple takeovers. Now with only the vixen displayed on the logo they are not limited to coffee  - yes we can already see that.  With the new drinks and "petite" menu, coffee mugs, books, CD's, stuffed animals, party games and other seasonal merchandise, who knows what will be next.  But I will admit, I too gave in.  I couldn't resist.  After seeing the ad for the "new" cocoa cappuccino I had to try it.  And I loved every last sip of it.  I didn't want to love it, it wasn't planned, it just happened.  Like those books, Bad men and the women who love them.  That's me and Starbucks.

Starbucks Cocoa Cappucino

Starbucks has inflated itself to the point where it is no longer a coffee house, they are now really nothing more than a fast food restaurant.  Oh yes, I know, a very profitable, successful one at that.  As I stood waiting the other morning for my "coffee" I watched in amazement how people kept filing in one by one, getting in the ever growing coffee line.  It looked just like a McDonalds, a Burger King or a school cafeteria lunch line. They were coming in droves.  And I thought to myself how nice it would be if just a handful of those customers would visit the local coffeehouse downtown to spread the wealth a bit.  And then I realized that I myself was standing in this ridiculous cattle call of a line.  Why wasn't I at the little locally owned coffee house down the street?  It was the Newman of coffee drinks, damn that cocoa cappuccino!

"Hello Newman"

But seriously, all the little coffeehouses are being brewed right out of business.  So since God is extremely busy right now I'll go straight to the source.  "Peet's, hear my plea, I know this must be tempting and probably a very smart business move, but if possible, think of all the "little" people, your fans, your loyal supporters, who have managed to stay true to you - please don't go to the other side."  Just resist, if you can.

Soon to be a thing of the past?

Baggin on the "Bucks" again

I didn't want to do this.  Did not want to post this blog. Yes I know, my last few blogs have been all mushy and lovey, gratitude journals and "ahh positivity" as a dear friend put it.  But that's it, I'm over that.  At least for another blog or two. Back to the real world, the 5:00 rush hour (that now starts at 3:00), the curbs we scrape up a little too close to and that run of red lights we can't seem to avoid.

I actually wrote this a few days before Christmas, thought it a bit Scroogey, and besides, I've bagged on Starbucks many times before, thought it redundant, but just once more, for old times sake, let me kick this dog and then I can pretty much promise you I will let it rest.  Metaphor people, I really don't kick dogs.

Some people complain about their kids, their husbands, their boss, the weather.  But when I get frustrated there is no one I'd rather bag on than Starbucks.  I don't know if it is them that I get so angry and frustrated with or if it has something more to do with something about me (I'm guessing it might be me) and the fact that I can't make a commitment.  I said I would boycott them and I'm back.  And if the truth be known, I've secretly been back many times since my last rant.   This lack of self-control, this complete lack of discipline may be the real underlying issue here.

The other morning I stopped at Vallergas (our local grocery store) to pick up a few items before work.  I only had a matter of about 20 minutes, it wasn't a leisurely visit, like one would have at perhaps, Macy's Union Square on a Sunday for example.  Starbucks happens to be right across the parking lot from Vallergas - so trying to kill two birds with one stone, I merrily hopped and skipped across rain puddles, grocery bag in hand, happy to get in line behind 7 others for my "have to have" morning latte.  Seven people, not too bad. I'm enjoying scanning the room as I always do.  18 people are seated.  Hmm, who is here working, who is here meeting a friend, who is here again with their screaming mimi kids.  I will give them a break today - it is almost Christmas for goodness sake.  The kids are out of school - all naughty and nice of them.

In line I'm beginning to fidget, shifting my weight back and forth, and the line hasn't moved in 5 minutes.  5 minutes can seem like an eternity when you are standing still in a waiting line, unless of course that line happens to be at Disneyworld where you know the end result will be one of pure delight and amazement (think Pirates of the Caribbean).  But a latte?  It is something I could skip all together this morning, or instead, visit the little coffee place by the gallery where I work.  But then it becomes this big ordeal, this big math equation, "if I leave now and drive over to the next shop, what if a line is there, how long will that take, and will the coffee be as hot, as good?" So, rolling my eyes, I decide to bite the bullet and wait it out.  But now I am wearing a scowl where just minutes earlier I was smiling at all the other jittery coffee addicts in this chain gang of a line, listening to the muzak mix of milk steamers, crying babies and overplayed Christmas tunes.

I stare blankly ahead, mildly amused by the woman arguing with the Barista, something about the Via coffee packets she is purchasing.  Only mildly.  But after several minutes and with the line now winding out the front door, I am just getting down right pissed off. When I finally got to the counter and the little Barista asked me my name I wanted so badly to say, my name is "Starbucks Sucks" - but I was afraid he'd ask for my ID to prove it, and there I would be, an out and out liar for the entire Starbucks community to see.  And what if they blacklisted me?  That would only make me want their nonfat two pump mocha extra hot with whip that much more!

So, what really annoyed me beside the ten minute wait in line to place my order?  They gift wrap now!  There on the counter is a sign "We gift wrap".  Are you kidding me?  Yes, why don't you take up more of my precious time.  You can gift wrap the coffee mugs, the Via coffee to go packets, the french press, all while heating up the spinach and egg wrap and the ham and cheese English muffin in the microwave.  I impatiently tap my foot to the beat of, I can't believe it, but I think it is the Chipmunks rendition of  "Here comes Santa Claus" waiting to order my one simple latte!  Ugh, can't you just do coffee?  Do you have to have your hand in all of it?  Do we all really need to take over the world?  Fill every need one can imagine? Can't we just find a thing or two that we excel at and do exactly that, excel?

So Santa, if you are asking what I'd like for Christmas, here it is, let me delegate;  McDonald's go back to your burgers and fries and leave the caramel mocha lattes to Starbucks. Starbucks you can leave the breakfast sandwiches to the likes of McDonalds and Subway and the gift wrapping can remain in the competent hands of Macy's and other "gift" shops. (By the way, do you know that Starbucks has a merchandise outlet in Ontario, California?)

If things keep going like this, Starbucks you will remain on my "naughty" list for next year, and In-N-Out, with your double double, animal style, fries and real ice cream milkshakes, you, once again are on my "nice" list. making me feel all is calm, all is bright,  I love you and please don't ever change. xo