Breaking the Code

Starbucks and I have a unique relationship.

IN THE BEGINNING

For years I've managed to pretend they didn't exist and they were fine with that. I'm only an occasional coffee drinker these days. If I drink six cups of coffee a week it would surprise me, and it's always decaf.

My aversion to Starbucks, at first, had to do with price. $5 for a cup of coffee . . . really? (I'm about to show my age here, but it had to happen sooner or later.) I waited tables off and on for most of my twenties and I still remember selling a cup of coffee for forty nine cents. Even today, I can go to a dozen places and get free refills for hours (and tons of cream) for less than $2. And I never cared for those fancy coffees. Just give me a plain old coffee with something to make it sweet and some cream-like substance.

The few times I did grace the doorway of a Starbucks it was usually with co-workers. I found the menu so confusing that I usually just ordered whatever the last person had. As I've aged I've come to appreciate tastes more, the small nuances of roasted bean, the weight, the acidity.

THE MIDDLE

My friend, Charlene, took me to Starbucks a few months back and ordered me a carmel coffee drink that was OUT OF THIS world. I didn't begrudge paying $5 for it at all. The place was empty, so I didn't feel rushed or pressured. But as I've become more conscious of each calorie I consume, I've come to realize that what tasted like heaven was actually a concoction from hell. And while I enjoyed it very much - bad things always taste good - I also realized that the hidden nuances of the coffee were good on their own. So I've made a few additional trips to Starbucks over the last few months. Alone. By my self.

THE END

The first time I pulled up to the driveway - thinking, for some reason, that it would be less embarrassing to talk to a microphone than to a real person - I was once again overwhelmed by their menu.

Nothing was as it should be. There are no small, medium, or large. You can order a Short, Tall, Grande, or Venti. Then there are words like; Mocha, Latte, Machiato, Con Panna, Americano, Cappucino, Frapachino, etc. There are options on flavors - vanilla, carmel, cinnamon, dolce, and so on -, options on milk - non-fat, 2%, whole, soy -, and almost everything can come cold, as well as hot, and it doesn't always say.

No where on the damn menu does it actually say, "Coffee" or "Decaf".

After making the poor girl wait for several minutes while I wildly searched for 'coffee', I finally just told her what I really wanted.

"I just want a cup of decaf with some soy milk and artificial sweetener in it."

She gave me a drink I really enjoyed, that cost me $5. I went back a week later and said the same thing, only this time I left with an iced version that I didn't like nearly as much. And it still cost me $5 - which is a lot of money if you don't like what you leave with.

After discussing my failed attempt to remember what the girl had given me the first time, Steve reminded me it was a Latte.

So, tonight I drove up and ordered a "Grande Decaf Latte with Soy and two NutraSweets." I got what I wanted and enjoyed ever sip of it.

If you're having trouble cracking Starbucks code, you might want to check out this website I found after I figured out what I wanted: http://www.quicksilverweb.net/sbucks/sbcharts.htm

A Mix What?

I've always loved music of all kinds. In fact, it's probably easier to say what I don't like than what I do. I don't care for hard-core rapping, heavy metal, or techno. Last month, Steve installed a new stereo in my SUV and I've spent a lot of time listing to a CD the girls burned for me five or six years ago. I have truly enjoyed the mix of light rap, country, alternative, and blues.

(Naturally, Steve hates it. Every time he gets in the vehicle and it's playing he makes a noise like it's literally hurting his ears and quickly turns it off.)

The last couple of days I've come to appreciate the time put into creating the CD; picking out the songs, the variety of genres included, the order of assembly, and the cost and time to burn it. It's even clearly marked, "Mom's Mix CD." All of which make it even more special when I listen to it.

Someone going to so much trouble for me reminded me of my first steady boy friend, from my teens - and yes, I can remember that far back. He use to make me mix cassette tapes that included all of our favorite songs, or songs that 'said' something to one of the other of us.

So in my youth I received mix tapes. In my daughter's youth they received mix CDs. What will my son, Will, put together for his girlfriend in another ten years? A mix download for her cell phone? A mix DVD of photos/videos put to music?

A mix . . . what?

The Other Side

I went to a swimming party with a friend today and it was an eye opening experience. The party was held at an apartment swimming pool, and hosted by a 44 year old friend of my friends. A single woman.

There ended up being seven women and one man that attended. One woman looked to be in her late 30s, one was most likely in her early sixties, and the rest of us ranged between 44-54. The man appeared to be in his mid-fifties. Everyone, with the exception of the sixty year old, was overweight and flabby.

Other than my friend and myself, they were all single. I think everyone there had been married at least once.

So there we were in all of our bathing suit glory - which wasn't very glorified. We ended up next to the area of the pool that hosted the volley ball match. A group of about fifteen young men - all under 25 - played ball the entire time we were there. And the entire time, all the women at our party drooled over them.

I have trouble drooling over anything young enough to be my own child, so I was more than a little freaked out about this. And as I listed to the conversation among our group, I became more freaked out.

This group gets together at a different swimming pool every two weeks all summer long and has parties. They were all desperately seeking someone. In fact, one woman had to leave early for a first-date with someone she met online - something she's been doing a lot of according to the rest of the women.

Everyone drink too much, tried too hard, laughed too much - often at nothing.

The longer I was there, the more desperate and sad they all seemed. And I think the thing that bothered me most is the knowledge that in their shoes, I wouldn't even be as well off as they are. At least they have each other to hang out with a couple of times a month. At least they still get out of their house and interact with others - even if they are young enough to be their children. At least they are still trying.

I've often heard how hard it becomes to find someone to spend your life with after you hit your forties. The people I met today showed me a side of that difficulty I never thought about; the isolation.

I can't say I had a bad time. The company made me feel good in my bathing suit. I got to listen to some really old music. I watched a 55 year old woman give a 22 year old guy a boobie-shot. I had free alcohol and snacks.

It wasn't the best time I've ever had, nor the worse.

What it was, was a look at life on the other side of the coin. I was really glad to get home to husband, every mature inch of him.