Envy. People walking with steaming tall mugs of coffee. Coffee cafes with a wall lined with coffee choices – dessert sounding like names. Friends talking over a cup of a coffee. “Would you like coffee with your dessert?” or “Could I warm that up for you?”asks the smiling waitress. I love the smell the coffee but the taste doesn’t do anything for me. Is it an acquired taste? My last attempt at trying coffee was at a conference when my fellow tea drinker Ruth says, “I’ve started drinking coffee.” My heart sinks. Another coffee drinker. I might as well give it another try. The waitress brings me a cup. Sugar and cream is used to “doctor” it up. Slowly I bring the cup to my lips taking in the rich aroma. Hopefully I swallow a sip…dirt. It tastes like dirt without the grit. Bitter. Oh well, I tell myself. It’s not good for you…so I’ve read. It’s addictive. It sure smells good though. It just not meant to be for me to join the ranks of coffee drinkers. Accepted.
Surprise. While I’m surfing for reading studies, a Stephen Krashen article catches my eye. Reading books might keep Alzheimers at bay. What I didn’t expect was the rest of the research findings. I can understand knowing another language but coffee? I have the book part down. Just need to learn another language and drink coffee.
A mostly true story of a cat that inspires the musician, Verdi, with a perfect note. Verdi meets the stray when he stops for coffee.