Old School Java Man is Daddy-O!

A young lady in a whipped cream on her head with a coffee cup.In middle school, the first “rock” concert I went to was The Manhattan Transfer.

And…I went with my Dad. *insert laugh track*

You might guess my father was the one convincing his tween-aged daughter into accompanying him to this Jazz concert, but you would be sorely mistaken. I begged him to go.

No Aerosmith.

Not Rick Springfield.

Nary a Black Sabbath head banging experience.

I wanted the best music I had ever heard…the fabulous four with impeccable harmonies. To ease your clenching gut or acidic buildup in your throat, I did go to ZZ Top later and was kidnapped by drunken strangers for about 5 minutes – but that is for another post.

Friends might call me an old fogey soul. My adoration of the old-fashioned has been a characteristic of mine for years. I’m not referring to the cocktail because I tried one of those recently, and just thinking of scotchy-scotch sets my gag reflex in motion.

As a nerdy kid, I listened to jazz and Broadway tunes, when my friends where singing to the Top 40. Crocheting and knitting were hobbies of mine when others were riding bikes and playing kickball. When my teen-aged friends had Shawn Cassidy and Leif Garrett pinned up on their walls, I HAD THOSE TOO!

Come on, I had hormones! Those two were HOT!! But in addition to those, I had a life-sized poster of Fred Astaire tap dancing in “Top Hat” right next to them.

So it shouldn’t be surprising when it comes to my coffee, I prefer the home brewed and not the big-named franchises. Java Man, Joe (aka my hubby) wakes up every morning, carefully grinds my beans, stirs my fluids and he gives this gal just what I need. A big, hot, cup of sumpin’ delish! I love a man who gets it right, don’t you?!

He doesn’t use the most expensive bean, but he knows my limits on powerful taste – so when I later drag myself out of bed straight to the coffee pot, the Munchkin’s Daddy-O has outdone himself once more.

One morning it was made clear again when my hubby and I had 40 minutes to kill in between attending our daughters’ school lunches.

We stopped at the coffee joint located on every corner in America for a ridiculous priced cup of Joe. During our relaxing conversation, Hubby ordered his standard engineer beverage – black and hot, just like he likes his…coffee. I decided to go the festive route and try something out of the norm.

A Pumpkin Latte would have been my autumn standby, but the photo of the Peppermint Mocha Latte next to the counter was reeling me in. The picture had whipped topping, covered with crushed peppermint and chocolate bits. I could hardly breathe.

Then I began having visions of sugarplums dancing in my head, transporting me into the role of Clara in the Nutcracker.

“Run, Clara, run!” the voices in my head sang to me.

While I ran in a circle mid-stage in my long, flowing nightgown holding up my precious new toy from Godfather Drosselmeyer, the smell of coffee beans whirled through the air.

“Ma’am? Ma’am.”

“Mmm. Wah?” I sputtered wiping away my drool.

“Stace, what do you want?” my hubby asked, oblivious to ruining my incredible daydream.

“I’ll have the Peppermint Mocha…Skinny,” I said with a sheepish smile and naïveté of a young ballerina.

Moments later when the hipster called my name, with my steaming biodegradable cup of splendor, I envisioned this as my curtain call. My bouquet of roses handed from the orchestra pit below. I nodded my head to thanked the Barista, instead of the deep bow and tossed kisses to the audience I felt necessary.

After all, I didn’t want to scare the poor lad. What if I wanted another cup of coffee?

Hubby and I sunk into our chairs and talked about life and things that only young persons with decent memory recall might remember. It was a lovely moment alone for us. Without interruptions. Without whiny kids in the background.

As we drove back to the elementary school to sit with our other munchkin during her lunch period, I asked my hubby if he liked his coffee.

He said it was OK, but he also informed me that his was only $1.50 and my fru-fru drink was over $5.00.

To make him feel better about how he was spending his hard earned cash, I informed him, “Mine tasted like feet. And not even Christmasy feet.”

The Manhattan Transfer are timeless. They understood me back when I was a youngster and still do today:

‘Cause I love the Java Man and he loves me.

Does your partner do anything special for you that makes you thankful? Or something you wish they would do.

If you enjoyed this, please join me on FACEBOOK for coffee and cinnamon rolls.

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10 thoughts on “Old School Java Man is Daddy-O!

  1. You weren’t knitting by 11? Mmh…so odd. I know I hate it when the coffee isn’t up for this princess when I drag my sorry butt out of bed. So nice you can relate!

  2. My husband makes the coffee in our house, too. I love it, & when he’ snot here, I’m like, “Dammit, who’s gonna make the coffee now?”

    I love that you were crocheting & knitting like a grandma when you were 11. Too funny.

  3. Annie, as you were telling this story I so wanted to jump in and tell my story like we had been girlfriends forever. I can’t believe your Dad wouldn’t let you go to BJ! I would have been sooo mad. I have seen Billy in concert now 4 times. He was one of my favorite performers and never went with the parents again! Jealous of the husband and dishwasher. My husband used to do that when we were first married. Things change…and I’d love those 2 minutes back. (love that you timed it!)

  4. You made me scream. That’s all I have to say about that as I hold that door wide open for you… HAAA!!!

  5. Loved the Manhattan transfer! I remember belting out their songs while enjoying my new freedom as a licensed driver!
    My first concert WOULD have been Billy Joel which EVERYONE I knew was going to – but Dad said no – due to all the “kids that would be smokin’ dope.”
    Of course, by the time “Uptown Girl” hit the charts, Dad was an avid fan of the Piano man – if that didn’t piss off a teenager!
    Perhaps my expectations ares low – but I am sooooo grateful when my husband empties the dishwasher….without being asked.
    I know this task takes less than 2 minutes (oh you know I’ve timed it) but for some reason it is just such a relief when someone else does it!

  6. OMG, no kidding!!! Those children we keep bringing places with us, just suck your coin purse dry, don’t they? I’m so glad you have a husband who shows his love through his bean grinding. OK, I may have said too much. 🙂 I sure hope to see you again and thanks for the comment. I love chatting!

  7. That fantasy/dream sequence was hilarious! And just so you don’t feel alone…my husband makes our coffee every morning. I gave up going to the other coffee place that keeps everyone running because once the kids were onto me, that $5 coffee becomes even more expensive when you add in munchkins, oj, hot chocolates, etc etc…so we save lots of money and he shows me he loves me (that’s how I like to see it) every day.

  8. Yes, you and Ashley get me. You really, really GET me! Christmas feet in the future, that is something to shoot for! HAAAA!! I love it. Set those standards low and you’ll never be disappointed. You were a choir girl weren’t you? Ashley said you are the one with the voice, right? We’ll have to shake it up sometime!

  9. Bwahahahahaha! GURL!! Manhattan Transfer was the shiz back in the day!! I FLOVED them!! (And you can’t drive in middle school. SOMEONE has to take you!!) It’s all about the harmony, baby!
    I love that a coffee could take you right into the middle of a Nutcracker fantasy! (Lucy is in the Nutcracker so she has them frequently herself). You are my kind of people, Stacey. (But I already knew that) Sorry your coffee tasted like feet. Blergh. Here’s to AT LEAST getting Christmas feet in the future. -Lisa

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