So I’m on a mission to start drinking coffee.

You might ask why, at almost 42 years of age (next month, on the 22nd – mark your calendars! Remind my husband!), I’d even bother with it? I mean, I’ve clearly managed to live this long without risking jitters or caffeine withdrawal. Some might even venture to say I’ve done so happily.

Confession time. I have caved to peer pressure. It’s all ShaMoo and Doodlecake’s fault. Yes it is. Ok, no it’s not, but even though I’m secure enough in my dotage to give a big PASS on things like tattoos, beer, and even wine… Frankly, sometimes, depending on where you are, all there is to drink is coffee, and I’ve gone thirsty on more than one occasion because I didn’t want the stuff.

I’ve finally come to realize that coffee is a basic element. Something that enhances social experiences, and binds people at a molecular level. Or not. But still… it smells so good! How can something that smells that good taste so damn bitter?? As you can probably tell, I’m not 100% sold on it. Yet.

So yesterday when I was off to my pedicure appointment, I realized I hadn’t had anything to eat or drink, and I was actually a bit shaky from low blood sugar. The only thing close to the salon was a Country Time coffee shop – and it had a drive through. So I swung in there and the first thing I saw on the menu was “Ice Cap”. Hrm. “Why not!” sez I. So yesterday I had my very first iced cappuccino… complete with whipped cream and caramel topping.

Oh. My. God.

It was almost a sexual experience, I kid you not. Now, I could not have one or more of those every day, because, well, I’d end up weighing 300lbs, that’s why. That concoction was sweeeeeeet. I begin to see why my girlfriends are hooked though.

The fog is lifting. The java experiment continues.