Tag Archives: my mom treated me like a coffee slave

Caffeine and Christmas Cards

6 Dec

I wanted to publish this post yesterday, but couldn’t because of a monkey on my back. Not an actual monkey as they can be volatile and rip your face off without warning. Let me take you back in time so I can explain…

Caffeine and I have had a tempestuous relationship. Growing up, I thought coffee tasted like chalk. My mom and her relatives would sit around the table while the kids came around like waiters, bringing them their liquid crack. When I wasn’t acting like a slave, I was sneaking little tastes here and there. I vowed never to drink it.

Credit: Julius Schorzman

Photo by Julius Schorzman

Then college happened. It was the late 90′s. It was Seattle. It was cold. I was tired. Starbucks stores were on every single corner. I was like one of those vulnerable people who fell into a cult, only I was worshiping baristas. Continue reading

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