Warning: Rambling post ahead. I blame coffee(ha!). Rambling!
I’m a coffee late bloomer. I don’t remember when I decided I loved it, but I was an adult (those who know me would argue then that I can’t be a coffee lover yet…behave). Probably was in my mid to late 20s before I truly enjoyed a delicious, steaming mug of coffee and never looked back.
I don’t drink it daily, but when I do? Boy, do I enjoy it. I don’t discriminate either. Why should I? I love an iced coffee, gulping it with no shame, and then bouncing off non-existent walls because caffeine is like a bull in a china cabinet in my system. Doesn’t stop me though.
And this has nothing to do with anything, but it popped into my head just now…
Years ago, I had the most delicious French pressed coffee (my first) at an endearing little restaurant right before I saw an alternative ballet production starring Mikhail Baryshnikov. I’m no ballet connoisseur (in fact, I know nothing of ballet except that I love it), but I sat for 3 hours while dear Misha and multiple ballerinas danced around on a stage carpeted in bubble-wrap. Continue reading