I’ve started a new relationship.  A secret relationship.  One my husband does not know about.  Nor would he approve.  But, I can’t help it.  I’m in head over heels in love.  How do I know?  Well, what are the symptoms of love?

Pounding heart. Check

Sweaty palms.  Check.

Butterflies in the stomach—that ‘can’t sit down for
a second’ excitement?  Check.

Can think of nothing else but the one? Check.

No appetite. Check.

Can’t sleep. Big time check.

Would walk across the dessert to be with the object of your desire.  Check.

As I sat at the chilly coffee bar, my new love kept my hands warm.  Right then I realized there is only one thing I can do. Express my feelings through written form and leave it where my husband can find it.  ‘Fess up.

Yep.  I’m in love.

With Starbucks.



Ode to Starbucks or I have 15 Minutes to Kill So  Sue Me

By Kristine Goodfellow

When I was young I never thought there would be a day—

Five dollars for a Venti I’d be happy to pay.

Can I part with that much money for coffee so dear?

Yes! That time in my life is finally here.

I don’t have to drink that homemade swill.

I can splurge for the good stuff and have my fill.

Heaven awaits down the road a mile or two.

It’s an expensive habit, so I know what to do.

I will try my best to pass it on by.

Okay, I admit it.   I don’t even try.

It doesn’t matter if it’s 100 degrees outside.

I’ll still drink the java until my brain is fried.

When I’m shaking and my heart beats so fast–

It’s comforting to know the jitters don’t last.

The beanery I enter in search of my tweaky high—

I need energy!   So a big, warm cup, I can’t wait to buy.

My kids are almost grown so I don’t have to hurry—

I’ll cue behind the cute college kid from McMurry.

“Now, wait, young man!  You should let me go first.

At my age being without Mocha is really the worst.

The polite thing to do is let your elder right by—

I’m in withdrawal and seek my caffeinated high.

You, dear student, will get to this stage someday.

By then, twenty dollars for a Venti you’ll pay.

Wait, young man! What are you doing here?

Is this expenditure a thing you could shear?

Do you parents know of the expense you drink?

And if they learned of your choice, what would they think?

Hard earned cash used not for books or computers, but specialized coffee!

And not the cheap stuff, but rather a low-fat frappe sprinkled with toffee.”

A guilty smile he gave me before he said, “Fine.”

The handsome young scholar let me cut in line.

I made him a promise that I’d never tell.

Who knew blackmail could work so well?

Or maybe it was the crazed look in my eyes;

I could snap any minute, it’d be no surprise.

I ordered, paid the ransom and got my hot prize.

I sipped my coffee, the heat made me blush.

The warmth, the flavor, the ear-buzzing rush.

That jolt of awareness, the caramel flavor I’ll never forget.

It’s highway robbery, but without it, I’m too tired to fret.

Until I have my coffee, I shuffle in a fog, so tired and lazy.

Now I’ll have energy to spare and be productive like crazy.

Except–when I’m at the café, I never want to leave.

From real-life chores, I have found a reprieve.

Under the awning of white and green,

Lies my little heaven of precious caffeine.

How I cut in line tomorrow has yet to be seen…