A gift from the French

MARK’S ARTICLE – February 25, 2010
“Pinch me”

ROOFTOP – “I’m gonna wash that car!” – “Whatcha gonna do?” – “I’m gonna wash that car!” – “Whatcha…” Oh, I’m sorry. I was making up a song while waiting for you. Nothing short of cool, I’m thinking.

And, no, I can’t see me washing the car today, even though we do have a window of opportunity. Don’t know that I’ve seen a sky any bluer than this one. Makes the buzzards circling overhead really stand out. Buzzards? That can’t be good.

Of course, by the time the readers at ground level get this, the window of opportunity to wash the car will have slammed shut. Too much rain.

No worry. Like I say, the car is not getting washed, regardless. It’s too cold. My hand would freeze to the nozzle. Last time it did that, Kay wouldn’t even let me use her armpit to unfreeze me. Love has its limits.

How do you like the jacket? It’s the black wool thing that I got two Christmases back. I love wool jackets, even though they tend to scratch my neck. I can make a friend out of a wool jacket. Harder to do with other materials. I had the sleeves taken up a couple months back. Cost me about as much as the jacket did, but it was worth it. Here, hold my coffee, while I stretch my arms out. See? Fits great.

Uh, my coffee? Thanks. I brewed it a few minutes ago in my new French Press coffeemaker. Kay got it for me for Valentines. She’s an absolute doll.

If you’re not familiar, a French press looks like a small, see-through R2D2, with no wheels, one arm, and a plunger coming out the top of its head. The first time I had coffee from a French Press was at this snazzy place called the Cru Wine Bar in The Woodlands. I went there once with Brad Meyer the food critic guy.

Just before my meal, the waitress brought my coffee to the table in a French Press. She pushed the plunger thing down and then poured the coffee into a warmed cup. She even warmed the cream! How good is that? I felt almost special.

After my meal, she asked if I wanted more coffee. Does ice cream covet hot fudge? She did the whole thing again. It was the best, Jerry! Pressed coffee is the smoothiest. Yeah, that’s the word, smoothiest.

After that, I was in Starbucks one afternoon when the girl said they didn’t brew coffee in the early afternoon. I just stared at her. My world turned upside down. She thought a second and then said she could make some from me in a French Press. Said she enjoyed doing it. I came out of my stupor long enough to scream, “Do it! Do iiiit!

It was terrific. So much smoothier. The antithesis of Starbucks coffee. The girl said she’d be glad to French Press me any time. I’m going to ask if I can push the plunger next time. Pretty sure she won’t let me. She did seem to enjoy it.

Anyway, I told Kay about the experience, oh, maybe 50 times. So, Valentines rolls around, and she gives me a press. Weird, ‘cause we don’t usually give anything but cards on Valentines. Maybe go out to eat the day before. We went crazy this time.

Oh, and she also bought me this plastic Venti-sized Starbucks cup with a lid. Venti means “The biggest” when you’re referring to a cup. When you’re not talking about coffee cups, I believe it’s something Julius Caesar said. Vinti, grande, tall. I’m thinking he had just taken the mountains of Colombia. That’s where the best coffee is.

Beg pardon? Oh, I got Kay a blouse for Valentines Day. I was looking to get her a pair of bajamas, which some people mistakenly call “pajamas.” I remember the correct word ‘cause it’s the same as the name of the chain of islands close to Florida.

I couldn’t find any bajamas in wool, so I got her the blouse. She didn’t like it much. I could tell. She was cool with it, though. Didn’t even act disappointed. Like she expected… Uh, doesn’t matter.

Kay also got me a Valentine that says she likes me even better than when we first got married. Isn’t that something? I didn’t think anybody could like me more after they got to know me. After awhile the warts start showing. The same lousy comments keep surfacing. Eventually it’s “Okay, Mark. That’s about enough. I’ve gotta go wash the car.”

Not with Kay. She not only isn’t going to wash the car, she’s sticking with me for forever. That’s what her card said. For forever. I wrote something pretty sweet, too, but hers was the best.

So, here I am sitting on the roof on a beautiful day, sipping my French Pressed coffee out of my insulated Starbucks-like cup, while down there at ground level is a girl who loves me even more than she used to. And, get this. I’m not even gonna wash the car. Somebody pinch me.



END