The Joy of Java

While dealing with the “Yuck” that has plagued the Jubilant household this last week, I can say that a good cup of coffee has helped keep me goin’. In among the mounds of laundry, Lysol spray fumes, re-checking of medication labels and dosages (with more than the average 2.5 children, all of whom are ill, keeping the prescriptions straight is a full time job in and of itself), piles of used tissues (obviously, I am the only one who knows where the trash can is located -- and the sink and washing machine for that matter, but that's another post for another time) and the requisite comforting of said sick children, I managed a cup or two of the brew – of the Java persuasion, that is. A cup o’ joe is one of the small pleasures in life.

You know, right behind the birth of your children or getting a book published.

Before I go any further, allow me to enlighten you, dear reader: My mother in law (a hard-core coffee lover) is of the opinion that it’s not coffee I enjoy, but a little coffee with copious amounts of cream and sugar. Being the fount of wisdom that she is, I cannot argue with her. Nor would I want to. She helps keeps my children in toy heaven and is also a supplier of many a Sunday meal. I’m just sayin’ . . .

Where was I?! Oh, yes: I have found an especially delicious treat in Starbucks Dark Chocolate Peppermint Mocha Frappuccino.





Doesn’t it just speak to you? The packaging is brilliant with the vibrant red and warm chocolate brown. Makes my mouth water just lookin’ at it. Those marketing people have my number, I admit.

On a fateful trip to Target one drizzly afternoon, it called to me from the eye level shelf (those pesky sales associates always do that, don’t they?!) and jumped into my arms. It only took 0.7 seconds before it was in the cart and MINE. All mine. Sort of. Well, not at all because later I had to share with The Calm One – the quasi-coffee drinker himself. He lavished high praise in deciding that it was "pretty good.” To lift part of a verse from Genesis (a dangerous thing, I know), I’ll go one better: “It was very good.”

Since then, I’ve scoured the city looking for the best price of my new favorite treat. With a “limited time” proclamation written right on the handy carrying box, I have no time to lose. Priorities, people, priorities. Sick children? What sick children?!

I’m just sayin’ . . .