Thursday, April 19, 2007

Double whoops... and missing what's under your nose

Well, I just realized it's Thursday and I once again forgot to post to Cozy Chicks.

Of course, the fact that Blogger still won't let me in to Cozy Chicks makes it a bit tough to post anyway, but what the hey. Fortunately, that should be fixed soon, as we have a new design in the works that I love.

But I didn't come here to post about Cozy Chicks.

Instead, I wanted to talk about my little Italian fantasy.

As I mentioned yesterday, my traditional writing haunt is closed for renovations (although word is it will be open again tomorrow). So a friend of mine e-mailed me and suggested I go a bit further afield and try Cafe Uno, which is owned by a bona fide Italian and serves a great cup of coffee.

Well, I had no idea what I was in for. It was perfect, down to the foamy caffe latte served with little wrapped chocolates and tubes of sugar like you get in Europe. The atmosphere was magical, with the added bonus that everyone was speaking a language I understood. And the pastries are flown in from Milan every three days. Direct!

As I sat there swigging my cappuccino and unwrapping my chocolate, I got to thinking. I live in a great city with lots of wonderful little spots like this one to choose from. I mean, they even have those cute little cafe tables with the metal legs!

But what do I do?

I go to my local you-know-what-bucks, drink my ordinary coffee, and (when I'm not writing) read travel essays that make me dream about cafes EXACTLY like the one just five miles up the road.

How dumb is that?

I used to work in a cubicle and imagine all the wonderful things I would do were I not forced to sit in a cubicle all day. I had many, many, fantasies, including lounging around coffee shops writing deep and pithy novels, going to exotic foreign countries and teaching English, and doing field work in some remote, jungle-esque territory. (All of which were infinitely preferable to trying to write gripping copy about telecommunications widgets from the confines of an oatmeal-colored cube.)

Okay, so maybe I do the writing in coffee shops bit. So far I haven't created the literary equivalent of Great Expectations, but at least I'm doing something I thought about.

Still, though. There are all these wonderful experiences out there, within mere minutes of my house. I know they're out there. And I'm sure I'd enjoy them -- just like I enjoyed the delightful Italian creme-brulee-esque thingamajig my friend bought for me today.

But I never think to.

Why is that?

(I am vowing to make some changes, though. For starters, I'm going to get a lesson -- yes, an actual lesson -- on hairdryer operation tomorrow. Which is sort of embarrassing, but there it is. I'll let you know how that goes.)

Oh, and writing? I did 501 words today. All of which you just read.

Make that 510. :)


At 8:16 PM, April 19, 2007, Blogger Keith Raffel said...

I have to admit I do my writing in a pretty snazzy place, which is within walking distance of my abode. When I walk over, I feel like Norm in Cheers. The hostess, bartender, and wait staff all say (sotto voce) "Hello, Mr. Raffel." I get a pot of green tea (don't have to order it, they just know) and keep getting it refilled for as long as I'm there. My eldest points out that the bathrooms are much nicer there than at home. Of course, when you spend 4-5 hours there sipping green tea that's an important consideration.

At 9:40 PM, April 20, 2007, Blogger Karen MacInerney said...


I feel just like Norm at my coffee house, too, only they tend to call me Karen.

And although green tea would be a much healthier option, everyone knows I order the tall boring (i.e. a small drip coffee, the cheapest thing on the menu).

Although I may have to switch locations, alas (see today's post)...


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