I didn't drink my tea this morning. Then I went the the Strawberry Festival and I felt groggy the whole morning. Someone, who shall remain nameless, told me that the tea I drink doesn't have caffeine in it. I think maybe he might be wrong.
On the way home, I asked Patrick if I could get a bottled Starbucks Frappuccino. A couple years ago, I started drinking these every so often, after I hadn't had any since a camping trip in college. I'm just not a coffee drinker, and I have never understood the big deal about Starbucks. I've had maybe a couple Chai Teas there in my entire 37 years of existence.
Starbucks is a mystery to me. I don't know the world of carmel, vanilla, and chocolate shots. I don't know the difference between espresso this or mochaccino that. I'm not sure if latte means milk or if it's code for some kind of Italian steamed cream. "Iced Single Venti Mocha, No Whip"??? "Double Tall Cappuccino, Extra Dry"??? I think I'd understand Greek better.
Well, Patrick thought it was high time I tried the real deal. So he sauntered into Starbucks and ordered me up a Mocha Frappuccino. Thick, rich, and icy with a mountain of whipped cream on the top, I partook (is that a word?) of the wonderful, coffee nectar.
Today I am completely ruined. I have finally caught up to my peers. And I have experienced a little bit of liquid ecstasy.
Today... I'm a believer.
Tomorrow... I will have to use self control to not to stop and get another Mocha Frappuccino on the way to church.
Because now I speak coffee.
How about you?
What's your poison?