Why you should drink espresso.

My trip to the coffee store this morning proved inspirational to the following list while I drove to work.

1. It's cheaper than a venti non-fat mochachino with a shot of caramel... a double espresso is always less than three bucks. Save two dollars a morning times three mornings a week times one year and you could buy this.
2. It's what you want... you drink coffee for the caffiene. Anything added is fluff.
3. You get to be a purist. No greater way to start the day than a knowing smile from a barista, the third hardest group of people to impress (after IRS Agents and prospective mothers-in-law).
4. It's more consistent. Every pour of espresso is certainly different but when you add the barista, three other ingredients, and the morning rush to your coffee who knows what your going to end up with in the cup. First thing in the morning is not the time for surprises.
5. It's faster. During rush, baristas tend to have every espresso machine pouring at any given time its possible. If all they have to do is pour yours in a cup, you'll usually be in your car by the time the two guys before you get their coffee.
6. It's cleaner. Ever drop a venti mocha valencia in your car? My five year old could carry the 2 to 4 ounces of liquid in that espresso container on a roller coaster and not spill it.
7. It's healthier. Its the drink you get now, minus the sugar and fat.

Sunday Night Coffee

I walk into the coffee shop and raise an eyebrow at the manager. Pay without ordering, not because I'm cool but because no one has to tell their pusher what their poison is. Sit down with a magazine... the other great addiction in my life with my iPod loud enough to make the room seem silent. Oddly, I can still tell when someone uses the milk steamer.

The young man at the counter winces at the taste of his first espresso.... don't worry boy, the first time is always like that.

The rest of the world, the part that matters anyway, argues about the world domination of Starbucks and the innate moral superiority of the locally owned coffee emporium. My world is content to see a frothing pitcher... in pastoral urbania the aficionado, posh den mother, disaffected college student, the tortured artist all sit together and smile. Unable to contain the warmth that is the community of civilization.

Local artists and author's works sit prominently... I wonder if anyone ever buys them.

There are baskets of newsprint and magazines. The latest issue conveniently summiting the pile. Never emptied, I'm convinced the oldest editions compost, filter out the sides of the basket, and are swept up each night with a regiment of rogue straw wrappers.

Tonight is folk music night... every Sunday night in some sort of odd replacement of worship for those who find no comfort in the company of the faithful. The strings on the choir director's guitar are uncut in what must be a tribute to Bob Marley.... or maybe Coolio.