One of the neighbors of this old folks home is Starbucks, the coffee house. In fact their parking lot joins our parking lot. I have made several jokes about Starbucks, but I am glad they are there.
When life becomes unbearably monotonous, Starbucks provides an escape. Last night, after an hour of boring simplified rummy, I scooted to Starbucks and ordered a Mocha Latte Frappe. Now, that is iced coffee at its sweetest and coldest.
One coffee cost $3.95 but it came in a 32 ounce cup with a clear plastic dome with a bright blue straw. You have to SIP it, not drink it, or the freezing cold will strike your chest, then your spine and then your brain... yowch.
So I sat on my scooter at an outside table and sipped, for an hour. Then I scooted home and continued sitting outside and sipping for another half hour. In fact, I nursed that thing all evening. I got my money's worth.
Years ago, when our Starbucks first was built, I used to wheel chair there with my Golden Retreiver, Griff, on a leash. I would drop the loop of the leash over the arm of one of the outside chairs, and he would sit patiently waiting while I had my coffee inside. Soon the Starbuck staff came to know Griff and admire his patience, and they soon provided a couple of doggie bowls for him, one with water and one with doggie biscuits. No coffee for him though.
That was nice. The Icon of the Twenty-first century, Starbucks, providing comfort for a twentieth century dog. He became a familiar sight, waiting at the door for his master to return. I was proud to relax there.
Last evening I was "hanging" with the young people who loiter there. They called me by my first name. It is a young crowd. The old codgers "hang" at Carl's Jr for breakfast.
I may join them, too.