Coffee talk

I’ve been neglecting my blog. I apologize. I’ve been having some personal things going on. This isn’t where I’m going to air my dirty laundry so I won’t go into details. Suffice it to say, writing has not been a priority, which is terrible, really. This makes me happy and I really should try and do it each and every day! Even when I don’t feel like it, or I’m uninspired. I just hate to put something out there that’s just SUCH a bad read! Practice makes perfect though.

Had trouble with my coffee this morning. I have this one cup brewer thing. I call it a “lazy man’s french press” because you don’t even have to press anything. It’s called a Clever Coffee Dripper. It’s a very simple thing and you wouldn’t think it would make a good cup of coffee but, oh, it does. And it’s so easy. (It’s here if you’re curious). You may have to play with how much coffee you add at first but that’s something I do with any new coffee maker, directions be damned. Different coffees require different amounts. The directions on the coffee usually need to be tweaked a bit. The directions are just a starting off point in my humble opinion. But then, I like my coffee more than most. Drinking coffee is an entire experience for me, from the brewing to the drinking. Well, sometimes a cafe brews it for me but the drinking part…that’s the best. Coffee must be savored. Every sip should be concentrated on and enjoyed to its fullest.

You see, I’m a coffee addict. If I could, I’d drink it all day. It makes me exceedingly happy and clears my head, allowing me to concentrate. It’s been suggested I’m mildly ADD because of that. I do spend most of my time feeling a little foggy and unfocused, so possibly. All I know is I like a good, strong cup of coffee. Must have some sort of sweetener in it though. And I recently learned I can take or leave any kind of cream, as long as the coffee is good coffee. Good coffee is smooth, no matter how strong it is. My current fave is a dark roast by Starbucks called Cafe Verona. It’s roasty with almost chocolate undertones. Delicious.

I completely got off topic (ADD?). I was talking about the trouble I had making coffee this morning. Sometimes I’m so in need of coffee that I have issues making it. Or ordering it, if I’m in a cafe. This morning, I boiled up some water, poured it in the dripper to let the coffee steep and then poured some hot water into my mug to prepare the mug, so to speak. It heats up the mug and helps the coffee stay hotter longer. When the coffee is ready, you dump the water out of the mug and then the coffee goes in. Forgot to dump the water, so ended up with watered down coffee everywhere when the mug overflowed. *sigh* So I cleaned everything up, dumped the used grounds in the kitchen composter, boiled some more water and went to pour it in the dripper only to realize I hadn’t put the filter back in and added coffee. At least that didn’t require starting all over but it delayed me a minute. I skipped the prepping the mug thing as I’m fairly certain the inside was still warm (plus I was afraid I’d make the same mistake AGAIN). After about four minutes of steeping, I finally had my coffee. Worth every fumbling moment but some days it’s so difficult to get that cup.

There was a time I wandered into my usual coffee shop (Ok, it’s a Starbucks) to order a coffee and all I could come up with at first was, “I’ll take a grande…something. Oh my gods, I need coffee so bad I can’t order my coffee!” Cue laughing baristas. Luckily, I go there enough that they accurately guessed what I wanted. It didn’t keep the one guy from writing “Something” with a big smiley face on the side of my cup. I love that place. Although, honestly, the small, non-chain cafes are usually a bit better and I prefer to support a small business, I just haven’t found one on the way to work. There are at least three Starbucks, though, and they make a good latte, support equal rights and, from what I hear, are really good to all of their employees. I’ve never run across an unhappy person working at Starbucks. Of course, they’re probably all hopped up on espresso. I’d be happy all the time too. I once considered working at a Starbucks but it occurred to me I’d never sleep again and really, I value sleep.

Last thing, for anyone who has read any previous posts, my dog, Pandora, is doing just fine. She came out of the vets office with some funny shaved patches, some pain killers and some liquid antibiotics. Later that evening you’d never know anything had happened to her (except the funny haircut). I wish I were that resilient. Time for her walk. Looks like the sky may open up and drop some rain so I’d better hurry.

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Damn feral cat

This morning, I let my dog out as usual. I have a five pound Chihuahua named Pandora. She’s adorable.

Pandora

You seriously can’t get more adorable than this. I’ve tried.

Anywho…she ran out into the back yard, spotted something in the bushes near the back fence and went to investigate. There was silence for a few seconds and then suddenly, my dog comes flying out, screaming, with a black and white cat on her heels. I’ve seen this cat before. She usually runs when she sees Pandora. Not this time. At this point, my instincts kick in and I go running at the cat. I think my teeth were actually bared and I know my hands were ready to claw at the thing if I got hold of it. And it’s a good thing I didn’t because all my brain was thinking was “DESTROY!” I responded like a mother seeing one of her children being threatened and I think I would have killed it before I realized what I was doing. Sometimes the primitive part of the brain is scary. But I digress. As usual. So the cat gets away from me, I comfort my dog, hover protectively while she relieves herself and then take her inside to clean her up and check for wounds. She was favoring her right front leg and I found what seemed to be a puncture wound there. Cleaned it with disinfectant, wrapped it in gauze so she wouldn’t lick at it and keep a scab from forming (best protection from infection) and now she’s laying in my lap, still shaking from time to time. Poor thing.

After, I IMed my boyfriend at work to tell him about it. He mentioned that he saw tiny, tiny kittens in the backyard this morning. We concluded that they are probably the cat’s and she was defending her kittens, which would explain why she didn’t run off as usual. People – if you insist on letting your cats run free, for the love of ALL gods, get them FIXED. Please. There are now a bunch of kittens, born out of doors, who, if they make it to adulthood without getting sick or picked off by predators, will be completely feral and make more kittens and more kittens…you get my meaning. I’m going to go out there later and see if there’s a little nest of cats in the bushes. If so, the Humane Society is getting a call. That situation ends here. Sorry to go all Bob Barker on you folks.

The whole point of this story (aside from venting) is to get to the rest of the conversation  my boyfriend and I had on IM. It was hilarious and I had to share.

Me: Ok, well, I may have to go out there and see what’s up. We can’t have a nest of kittens in the back yard.

Boyfriend: Indeed. I wonder what would scare her away?

Me: Well, calling animal control or the Humane Society should take care of it if they’re living back there.

Boyfriend: Maybe some tiger blood or panther urine.

Me: I’ll call Charlie Sheen

Boyfriend: I’m sure Petco has some.

Me: He’s got Tiger blood, right? Oh yeah. Petco has shelves of panther urine

Boyfriend: I think that might be metaphorical tiger blood. Don’t get the cheap panther urine, it doesn’t work for shit

Me: Right. Pricey panther urine only.

Honestly, I think I’d go crazy if my life wasn’t filled with conversations like that. Laughter makes everything better. 🙂
UPDATE: Found another, worse, puncture wound on her chest/armpit area. I wasn’t comfortable letting that one go so we ended up at the vet who found even more wounds! She’s all cleaned up now though and is full of antibiotics and pain killers and sleeping soundly. That was seriously a hell of a morning.