I’m addicted to Starbucks. I love my coffee but it absolutely kills me that I spend almost $4.50 every single day on my quad grande non-fat three equal latte. The fact remains that I can’t seem to give it up either.
Believe me, I’ve tried to like Dunkin’ Donuts or McDonald’s but they’re too weak. I also have tried to brew my own to no avail either. I’ve tried different coffee brands, different grinds and even different coffee pots. In my quest to either replicate my Starbucks or find a suitable alternative, I’ve picked up enough coffee makers to open Tracy’s Coffee Bar. I counted a Gevalia pot that came free with a trial subscription to their coffee of the month club. I also have both a Bodum electric French press and a manual French press. I have my original Mister Coffee 12-cup pot and a large party size 48-cup pot. I have a Kerieg single cup coffee maker and a Starbucks single to-go-cup coffee maker, and my Krups 12 cup coffee maker with a warming carafe. Not to mention the old espresso maker parked in the back of the pantry we got as a wedding gift. None of these seem to satisfy me.
For Hanukkah, our friend bought us an espresso maker. At first, I loved it. It does make perfect foam and is easy enough to use, but unless I invest in a espresso maker that very expensive, I’m never going to get the right amount of pressure to brew the perfect cup. That sits on the counter looking pretty and unused now.
Sometimes I wonder if Starbucks includes just the tiniest bit of crack in their blend. That would explain my addiction. It's like the yummiest tasting crack in a cup, every so slightly sweetened. It’s not the caffeine because I can drink four shots and go right to bed afterward. It’s just the flavor. I just love the dark, rich, almost burned taste. It wouldn’t be so bad if I at least limited myself to the morning commute cup. Now, however, in the afternoons, I’m driving over for a mid-day iced drink too.
I’ve even got Maverick hooked. The guy never even drank coffee until he shacked up with me. Plus, I think I’m creating a monster in my five-year old. Surprisingly, Camryn loves Starbucks too. Most of my adult friends can’t stomach my four-shot drink but Camryn would drink it all if I let her. For now, I only let her have her favorite vanilla milk. Between the three of us, we have a family fortune going down the drain to one benefactor. We stopped calling it Starbucks and refer to it lovingly as FourBucks. Maybe calling it more than three thousand a year bucks would be more appropriate.
I’d be much happier if my gym knew me by name instead of all the baristas who ask if I’m having “the usual” when I walk in. For Maverick, they special order his favorite yogurt. I even have my very own Starbucks Black card, which saves me 10% on every drink. The card makes me feel special, like my own American Express Black Card for coffee drinkers, though not as many perks. It would be great if it also had perks like my own personal concierge, or a home barista would be nice. I think I’ll submit that idea to Starbucks. Maybe I should run over there now and pitch my suggestion. While I’m at it, I might as well pick up an afternoon iced coffee too. And the vicious cycle of addiction continues…
Showing posts with label addiction. Show all posts
Showing posts with label addiction. Show all posts
Monday, June 22, 2009
Thursday, April 23, 2009
Shopping frenzy
Maverick called me at the office to say he was taking away my credit card. Apparently, he said, I don’t know how to control myself when it comes to shopping. As I pleaded and explained and poorly attempted to keep control of my plastic, in the back of my mind, I know he can be right, sometimes.
Not too long ago, Starr and I were doing some out-of-town shopping. We hit a stretch of unique shops and the two of us started salivating. My saliva was caused by hunger. It was mid-afternoon and neither of us had anything to eat all day, but Starr was drooling over the clothes she saw displayed in the window.
After promising her that the stores would remain open afterwards, we grabbed a bite to eat and drank a bottle of champagne over lunch. Feeling warm and bubbly from the cold bubbly, we hit the boutiques.
We looked like two kids in a candy store. We practically ransacked the first shop, throwing things around and stock piling clothes in the dressing room. Tops and skirts and dresses flew out of the curtain while my poor friend, Jenny, carefully hung up the discarded clothes for us. While Starr paid for her finds, I scoured the jewelry counter and strung several necklaces around my wrist and tossed them on the checkout counter for a last-minute photo finish of a clothes horse-race.
And that was the first shop.
By the third or forth…or maybe the fifth or sixth boutique…I think I lost count….I realized I also had lost my head. I walked into this store, still rearing to go on the high that everything was on sale, everything was in my size and everything looked great. (And how often do the stars align that perfectly?)
I stood over a pile of beautiful 50% off scarves and was trying to pick out one or two to buy. But I had found six that all looked great and agonized over which ones to put down. So I moved over to the sweater table and picked up three or four cute things. Next, I found another necklace, so I made my way over to the cashier but couldn’t bypass the shoe section and saw my weakness…crystal studded flip flops and found several pairs I wanted…I looked at all the stuff in my hand and started to hyperventilate.
I realized I wanted everything in the store, right now. I’d hit a bonanza. A magic treasure chest filled with beautiful clothes, and shoes, and accessories just for me. I looked down at the packages I was carrying…I added up what I had spent already (justifying to myself I had just bought my own birthday present, Mother’s Day and Hanukkah presents at this rate and it was only March). My pulse was racing and I started hyperventilating.
I realized I was in a full-fledged shopping frenzy and had to walk myself right out of the store to catch my breath. As I stood outside in the cold air, my breathing finally slowed and my blood pressure returned to normal. Jenny, not knowing anything was wrong, came outside to comment that she had never seen two girls do as much damage as Starr and I had. In two hours, she said, we’d spent what she’d spend in a year on clothes. She said she was fascinated by us. But I felt disgusted and ashamed.
I didn’t spend a dime afterwards that day. I did however, continue to enjoy shopping vicariously through Starr, who even managed to find something fabulous at an airport boutique on the way back into town. I’ve been trying to be better since then and not buy whatever strikes my fancy when I see it. It’s hard still sometimes, especially when I see cute $5 t-shirts for the girls at Target. Okay, I admit, I still get them the cute $5 t-shirts when I see them at Target. Now, I just try to pick out one or two instead of one of every kind.
With all the recession talk, I know I should tighten my belt and do better with less. I can cut back on another pair of flip flops or another pair of earrings for a while. I’m good with less shopping for now, just as long as Maverick doesn’t ask me to cut out my daily Starbucks. I have a feeling that request is coming soon too. Especially since we just got a new espresso maker.
Not too long ago, Starr and I were doing some out-of-town shopping. We hit a stretch of unique shops and the two of us started salivating. My saliva was caused by hunger. It was mid-afternoon and neither of us had anything to eat all day, but Starr was drooling over the clothes she saw displayed in the window.
After promising her that the stores would remain open afterwards, we grabbed a bite to eat and drank a bottle of champagne over lunch. Feeling warm and bubbly from the cold bubbly, we hit the boutiques.
We looked like two kids in a candy store. We practically ransacked the first shop, throwing things around and stock piling clothes in the dressing room. Tops and skirts and dresses flew out of the curtain while my poor friend, Jenny, carefully hung up the discarded clothes for us. While Starr paid for her finds, I scoured the jewelry counter and strung several necklaces around my wrist and tossed them on the checkout counter for a last-minute photo finish of a clothes horse-race.
And that was the first shop.
By the third or forth…or maybe the fifth or sixth boutique…I think I lost count….I realized I also had lost my head. I walked into this store, still rearing to go on the high that everything was on sale, everything was in my size and everything looked great. (And how often do the stars align that perfectly?)
I stood over a pile of beautiful 50% off scarves and was trying to pick out one or two to buy. But I had found six that all looked great and agonized over which ones to put down. So I moved over to the sweater table and picked up three or four cute things. Next, I found another necklace, so I made my way over to the cashier but couldn’t bypass the shoe section and saw my weakness…crystal studded flip flops and found several pairs I wanted…I looked at all the stuff in my hand and started to hyperventilate.
I realized I wanted everything in the store, right now. I’d hit a bonanza. A magic treasure chest filled with beautiful clothes, and shoes, and accessories just for me. I looked down at the packages I was carrying…I added up what I had spent already (justifying to myself I had just bought my own birthday present, Mother’s Day and Hanukkah presents at this rate and it was only March). My pulse was racing and I started hyperventilating.
I realized I was in a full-fledged shopping frenzy and had to walk myself right out of the store to catch my breath. As I stood outside in the cold air, my breathing finally slowed and my blood pressure returned to normal. Jenny, not knowing anything was wrong, came outside to comment that she had never seen two girls do as much damage as Starr and I had. In two hours, she said, we’d spent what she’d spend in a year on clothes. She said she was fascinated by us. But I felt disgusted and ashamed.
I didn’t spend a dime afterwards that day. I did however, continue to enjoy shopping vicariously through Starr, who even managed to find something fabulous at an airport boutique on the way back into town. I’ve been trying to be better since then and not buy whatever strikes my fancy when I see it. It’s hard still sometimes, especially when I see cute $5 t-shirts for the girls at Target. Okay, I admit, I still get them the cute $5 t-shirts when I see them at Target. Now, I just try to pick out one or two instead of one of every kind.
With all the recession talk, I know I should tighten my belt and do better with less. I can cut back on another pair of flip flops or another pair of earrings for a while. I’m good with less shopping for now, just as long as Maverick doesn’t ask me to cut out my daily Starbucks. I have a feeling that request is coming soon too. Especially since we just got a new espresso maker.
Monday, March 2, 2009
Living with the junk
Years ago, when Maverick and I were building our first home, an friend told me it took her 10 years to buy living room furniture. I thought she was off her rocker. How could it possibly take that long to get around to it? That would never be me, I insisted to myself….
And now 8 years later, I find my living room empty, aside of the pool table that fills the center in a feeble attempt to deny myself the fact that I still don’t have furniture yet either. Just last week, I had company in for a visit and that finally prompted me to redo my guest bedroom.
The weekend before my friends arrived, I was aghast at the realization that they would be sleeping in a room still filled with my old college furniture. And truth be told, some of it was even older than that. It was embarrassing that after all this time, we were still “making do” with the junk we brought with us to this house. Now it was time to move on.
So I ran around like a lunatic, found new bedroom furniture and redecorated the room. It looks terrific. Now, of course, I’m looking around the rest of the house, ready to “fix up” everything else that needs to be finished or even started for that matter.
I walked from room to room, tearing my house apart in my mind and thinking about all the things I would like to do if I had the opportunity to start over (with a chic decorator, of course!) As I passed by the family room TV, my first thought encompassed the beautiful new flat-screen television I’d place there. Then I noticed the CNN news anchor talking about the rate of foreclosures and the stats of how many people have lost their jobs and their homes….
It was depressing news. I shut off the TV and thought about how my good my life is, and realized that all the other things can wait. I’m thankful for the nice things I have, along with a beautiful home that we’re not in jeopardy of losing. My life is not as hard as others have it right now. I can live with the rest of the junk for a while longer.
And now 8 years later, I find my living room empty, aside of the pool table that fills the center in a feeble attempt to deny myself the fact that I still don’t have furniture yet either. Just last week, I had company in for a visit and that finally prompted me to redo my guest bedroom.
The weekend before my friends arrived, I was aghast at the realization that they would be sleeping in a room still filled with my old college furniture. And truth be told, some of it was even older than that. It was embarrassing that after all this time, we were still “making do” with the junk we brought with us to this house. Now it was time to move on.
So I ran around like a lunatic, found new bedroom furniture and redecorated the room. It looks terrific. Now, of course, I’m looking around the rest of the house, ready to “fix up” everything else that needs to be finished or even started for that matter.
I walked from room to room, tearing my house apart in my mind and thinking about all the things I would like to do if I had the opportunity to start over (with a chic decorator, of course!) As I passed by the family room TV, my first thought encompassed the beautiful new flat-screen television I’d place there. Then I noticed the CNN news anchor talking about the rate of foreclosures and the stats of how many people have lost their jobs and their homes….
It was depressing news. I shut off the TV and thought about how my good my life is, and realized that all the other things can wait. I’m thankful for the nice things I have, along with a beautiful home that we’re not in jeopardy of losing. My life is not as hard as others have it right now. I can live with the rest of the junk for a while longer.
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