It was a hipster coffee shop called Thump. They roast their own coffee beans, of course. I bought a bottle of Kombucha because I wanted something cold and because I don’t drink coffee. Don’t ask me how to pronounce it. It promised me strawberry lemonade and delivered an earthy mixture of flavors unfamiliar to my Southern palate. Continue reading “Asking, part 1”
I bought a turkey today for the first time. The frozen, Butterball kind that you have to thaw in advance. It’s 14 pounds. I may have pulled a muscle dragging it out of Fred Meyer. I’m kind of excited.
Harry and I are both only children, so even a holiday with both of our immediate families is small. Harry remembers a lot of Thanksgivings where the table was covered with Mexican food — did I mention he’s from Texas? Continue reading “Growing up”
Here’s the post I deleted from Facebook:
Proofreading an academic paper on child soldiers in The Congo. Man. I need a hug. (I’ve already had an oversized molasses cookie.)
Ugh. I’m a little disgusted to even write it here.
My counselor would say it’s not my fault that children in The Congo are forced to join the army, that they are raped and beaten while I sit in a nice coffee shop uncomfortably cold in the A/C, consuming $5-worth of Peach Ginger tea and an oversized cookie someone else made for me. Continue reading “Being uncomfortable”
I know this could be confusing on a blog called Coffee and Condensation.
And, it’s true. I don’t like coffee. I’ve never liked the taste of it. Too bitter.
I used to say the same thing about dark chocolate, but I’ve definitely matured in that department. Life is too short to limit chocolate intake. Continue reading “But Andrea doesn’t like coffee”