Use Your....Im-A-Gin-A-tion

If you’re a coffee drinker, you’ll understand this post like you understand how if you say something slightly negative about your own mom, it’s ok, but if someone else does they’d better join the witness protection program.

Note: When I use the term Coffee Drinker, I don’t include people who are ‘experimenting’ with cold, flavored coffees with whipped cream and a handful of powder for your chaffed ass. I’m talking about As Strong As You Can Get Without it Tasting Burnt. I’m talking I’d Grow Curly Yet Silky Chest Hair From It If I Weren’t a Woman, strong. I’m talking My French Press will Kick Your Filtered Mr. Coffee Crap’s tush right back to Columbia.

I can only really drink the coffee that we make here at home. Not true. I really only WANT to drink the coffee we make at home. We use Starbucks, whole bean coffee. We have our favorites and none of them are under the radar of “Bold”.

Due to proximity and not jazzed about driving out of the way by a half hour to pick up a bag of coffee, I chose a bag of “Medium” intensity Columbian Starbucks whole bean from the local Hannafords. I am truly grateful that Hannafords would ever bother to carry whole bean because it is clear by what’s on the shelf that this is an incredibly Do It For Me world, roads everywhere paved with bags of Ground Coffee.

All that was really left was Columbian. Huh. Okay, we’ll try that. I squinted critically at “Medium” but put it in the cart anyway.

Admittingly, I used to be a Dunkin Donuts junkie. I also had my starter coffee days in my early 20’s when it had to be light and disgustingly sweet, flavored if available. AND it had to come in a Styrofoam cup with that pink and orange logo.

Blech. Never again unless I wake up on DD island with no oars to escape.

Ok, Columbian Starbucks. Show me whatchya got.

Not bad…a bit light for my taste but not bad. But I have a way of dealing with these types of caffeine related dilemmas.

I PRETEND. I pretend that I am at someone’s house and that they have offered me a cup of coffee and this is what I was given. Usually I can handle coffee at someone else’s house because that’s what they have. THAT’S IT. It’s a wonderful gesture to serve a guest coffee and that makes it even more palatable. Perhaps it’s a survival mechanism. Or a Pollyanna-ish denial of reality. Or even just plain old overload of gratitude and needing a place to channel it.

Either way, it helps the medicine go down!

And this one wasn't planned, but if you look up 'coffee bold' in Google Images, it's what showed up. T'aint my fault.