J is for java
It all started innocently enough. Getting the honor of making Dad coffee before he left for his overnight shift and the police station. I still remember the three scoops of Folgers going into the percolator plugging it in and waiting. I couldn’t drink Dad’s coffee though, he drank it black. Now Mom on the other hand took cream and sugar with hers and I could occasionally get a drink.
As I hit my teens I tried coffee again and found it bitter so I steered clear of it. But once I got married to a coffee drinker I was stirred by the aroma once again. I would occasionally have a cup with milk and sugar. When I became a sleep deprived parent I leaned a little more heavily on the java.
In the early 2000’s our little town got a coffee shop in it. I was heavily into tea at the time and fell in love with the shops spiced Chai. One day for something different I had a latte… that is when the problems began.
From there I was hitting area coffee shops for lattes and mochas. An occasional Frappuccino or the much cheaper Frappe from McDonald’s. Now I frequent gas station cappuccino machines and stay close to my Keurig here at home. I have a Starbuck’s gold card and I frequent the local shops too. I admit it … I am a coffee-aholic! And I don’t want to be cured! Pass the brown sugar and cinnamon (my latest taste of choice), please!
Follow my A to Z challenge: