Joe. Hey Joe. Drink it down slow.


Each morning I give warm and wooly glad greetings to my pal in a cup.


It is a daily habit for me. A bit of a ritual, in fact. The first cup, anyway.

Coffee drinkers span the globe, we do. We come from all walks of life, and certainly from every continent. The country who gets credit for drinking the most coffee is Finland. The Finnish people consume more coffee per capita than any nation in the world. They knock back eight or nine cups a day. For the normal Finn. But some people there consume as many as 30 cups per day. I am not sure why this might be, other than the extreme cold in Finland.

I could be Finnish. Not the the 30 cup Finnish, but the 8 cup Finnish. I think it is because I get up so early. I keep a Thermos on my desk as I work in the mornings.

Personally, I am not a Fancy-Smancy Coffee Drinker. Like those folks who go to Starbucks and get a Super Creamy, Double Heemy, Skinny Dipping, Carmel Flipping, Latte. Or some such Beast. In fact, I’ve probably only purchased a coffee from Starbucks less than five times. I always say, “I’d like a small black coffee.” The person on the other side of the counter gazes at me like I am from some other planet, or even perhaps, an entirely different Galaxy. They usually come back with, “And what size did you want that?”
“Small,” I say. Again.
Condescendingly, they reply, “Oh. You mean ‘Short?’”
I normally sluff it off, and nod my acceptance of the term. However, the salesperson usually writes “Pawwlee” on my cup instead of Polly.

Regardless. I love the regular black coffee. I am told the average American spends about $1000 per year on coffee. I believe it. I think some people go way beyond that. I see hints of them on Facebook.

My brother, among many other things, is a Barista in Seattle. I’ve never seen him in action at his Coffee Shop, but I bet he is the best one in that rainy city. That’s how he is, always baking the best cake, or sewing the most beautiful gown. Super Barista. With a cape, no doubt.

I am guessing he has good and bad customers. I think Beethoven would have fallen into the “terrible” category. History has it that Beethoven loved a cup of coffee. But he was extremely particular about the way it was made. He insisted that each cup be made with exactly 60 beans. Da-da-dum. Da-da-dum.

The studies go back and forth about the benefits, or detriments, of coffee. Studies seem to have a way of doing this. One day, coffee is the Golden Elixer and the next day, it is a Cancer-Causing-Lava. Disregard all of them, I say. Look to nature, I say.

Actually, there is a funny longevity story around coffee. The Guinness World Record holder for “Oldest Cat Ever” goes to a 38-year-old feline named Creme Puff. Here is the thing about Puffy. She drank coffee every morning of her furry little life. I am guessing the owner made this for her. She also enjoyed bacon, eggs, and broccoli for breakfast. So yes, 38 long years she lived. Coincidence? Well. Hear this. Creme Puff beat out for the longevity record. It was held by 34-year-old cat who was named Grandpa Rex Allen. Grandpa Rex had the same owner, and was fed the exact same diet.

So. Coffee. For some of us, it is a treat. A joy. And perhaps a daily staple. I’ve probably gone on much too long about coffee. Yes, I need to stop here, just to be safe. Not another word about coffee, on the grounds that it could incriminate me.


“When you do things from your soul, you feel a river moving in you, a joy.”
― Rumi


“Sometimes your joy is the source of your smile, but sometimes your smile can be the source of your joy.”
― Thich Nhat Hanh


“As long as there was coffee in the world, how bad could things be?”
― Cassandra Clare, City of Ashes