smashedmotif's journal

Dear Journal,

The Vietnamese coffee I made this evening was sure concentrated.

I only quaffed but a few sip before I found myself guzzling subsequent cups of aqua in order to rinse the residue of the sweetened condensed milk. It sure would of helped if I had poured the coffee over crushed ice.

Point is, I don't think I can handle coffee as before. Being off of coffee for over a year or two, with an occasional cup, has brought be to a point of "light weight-ness."

Unsweetened cranberry juice concentrate, now there's a drink for you.

Although, a 1:3 ration of the stuff to water with a couple of packettes of s p l e n d a makes for a not-too-shabby drink.

Dear Journal,

While picking up parts for my car at a dealership, I had the most excellent cup of coffee.

The dealership I like to visit when purchasing car parts has moved to a newly built complex. One exciting feature added to their parts department's waiting room is, a coffee maker.

The coffee maker isn't your normal coffee maker, it's a super duper machine that makes super duper coffee.

The size of this coffee maker is about the size of a miniture refridgerator, but instead of being box-like, it is more rectangular vertical-wise.

At the top of the coffee machine are two seperate containers where whole coffee beans are held. One container holds caffeinated beans and the other container holds decaffeinated beans.

To operate the machine one has to but press a few buttons. The first button is for choosing the cup size, the second series of buttons offers you a choice of caffeinated, decaffeinated or a mix of the two bean types. Included is a button fot hot water. Finally, there is the start botton.

After starting the machine the next few moments are filled with a series of sounds. First there is the whirl of the grinder, followed by a pump sound, steam sound, and then some mechanized-like clicks and shifts.

When looking behind the machine, I saw a huge water filter that had attached to it hoses, seemingly providing the water to the machine. There was an electric cord connected to the building's outlet, too.

After a few more series of clicks, pumps, steams, and what not, coffee was served into the cup I had ealier placed below.

I sipped the coffee. Savored the flavor. Sipped the coffee once again, and then nodded with approval. It was well made coffee.

The coffee was so delicious, I desired another cup. Though, I knew that one cup was one-too-many, already. So I left, thinking of when next I'd need another car part and when I'd enjoy another well made cup of coffee.

This post was edited by smashedmotif on Mar 30, 2007.

Dear Journal,

Today I wrote a long post on tapioca that is used in novel drinks such as "bubble" milk tea, Thai tea, etc.

I reread it several times and am confident in the information I provided. Though the information was stored in my head, I wonder if there is a step that could of been explained better.

To be sure, it was a nice page of directions and hints on preparing tapioca and I hope it helps others.

This post was edited by smashedmotif on Mar 28, 2007.

Dear Journal,

A sharp whistle rang out and a short split in the ether was created. At that moment I wondered what spirits had entered our plane.

I saw a curtain sway in the breeze of the atrium and thought my question again.

The question was no longer what spirits entered during the shrill sound, splitting the ether, but how many spirits had entered.

That's when the hair on the back of my neck raised.

"That's it, that's it, I'm calling it a night. I need my rest, for tomorrow is a whole new day."

This post was edited by smashedmotif on Mar 27, 2007.

Dear Journal,

The idea of keeping bees is very attractive and seems a worthwhile endeavor, indeed.

Dear Journal,

Going to the airport at 04:30 is not recommended. Though it would seem there would be few cars on the road, this is non other than an illusion.

If on two hours you end up driving to the airport and a taxi pulls in front of you, don't become upset because the taxi doesn't fit your expectations of how a taxi should be.

As it was, when on my merry way to the airport this morning, a taxi pulled in front of me. As I imagined it to be no big deal, because taxis usually drive like crazed madmen, this taxi decided to take a Sunday-drive approach to the departure wing.

There it was, an ugly taxi, with its unwashed exterior all covered with a grimmy coat of smog, in my way, going a maximum, 25 miles per hour. Imagine the agony I had to suffer.

The few second that it took for the taxi to finally merge to his respected area seemed an eternity to me. I was aware, enough, that I was suffering from lack of sleep, but in this knowledge I found no solitude.

Soon enough, all was well as I finally was back home and quickly returning to dreamland.