My espresso machine exploded. To its credit, this espresso maker has been on my kitchen counter, making the best mochas and steamed milk for tea lattes since 1996. It's a Krups. When Mike gave it to me for my birthday, I was dubious. I didn't even use it at first. Poor Mike had to figure out how to use it and make me a mocha before I was convinced. For a while, we bought the half gallon sized Hershey's syrup with a pump. One day, I calculated that since I made at least half of my mochas at home, I was saving between $500 to $800 a year. Funny how that adds up. Eventually Mike was hooked too and that number doubled. So then, we figured out that we could make them just the way we liked at home. In 2005, when I was diagnosed as insulin resistant, that I couldn't tolerate any more sugar without becoming diabetic, Mike figured out how to make my mochas sugar-free using Stevia. Then I went caffeine-free and started making tea lattes at home. My current favorite is a decaf Stash Earl Grey tea latte with Stevia. But today, my Krups exploded. It was probably my fault. I'm not sure why, but I have that effect on machinery.
I was steaming milk. Suddenly, there was a crack like a glass window being hit by a BB pellet. I ducked, but none of the steaming milk hit me, though it splattered about a foot away on one side. There were coffee grounds, some ash-colored stuff, and spilled milk everywhere. Coffee grounds?
I can't see what's wrong with it by looking at it and I don't want to turn it back on. I let Mike do those things. He likes fixing things that have broken. That's what makes him a good engineer.
There's the bus, dropping the boys off from school.
I guess this is as ordinary a day as I can get. Even on a quiet day, I need to endure a shot of adrenaline. I really did think the window was broken except the sound came from somewhere else.
So the boys are playing outside the window. I like watching them when they don't know I'm looking. It's deep dusk out, a kind of a grayish purple. Mike should be coming home in just a few minutes since he goes in early. That's a plus. I love this time of day here. The light can be anything from gray to purple or even salmon sometimes. Our skies are so variable.
Maybe that's what I need to remember, that the days are colored so that every day is different. There are no ordinary days.
Thank you for listening, jb
I was steaming milk. Suddenly, there was a crack like a glass window being hit by a BB pellet. I ducked, but none of the steaming milk hit me, though it splattered about a foot away on one side. There were coffee grounds, some ash-colored stuff, and spilled milk everywhere. Coffee grounds?
I can't see what's wrong with it by looking at it and I don't want to turn it back on. I let Mike do those things. He likes fixing things that have broken. That's what makes him a good engineer.
There's the bus, dropping the boys off from school.
I guess this is as ordinary a day as I can get. Even on a quiet day, I need to endure a shot of adrenaline. I really did think the window was broken except the sound came from somewhere else.
So the boys are playing outside the window. I like watching them when they don't know I'm looking. It's deep dusk out, a kind of a grayish purple. Mike should be coming home in just a few minutes since he goes in early. That's a plus. I love this time of day here. The light can be anything from gray to purple or even salmon sometimes. Our skies are so variable.
Maybe that's what I need to remember, that the days are colored so that every day is different. There are no ordinary days.
Thank you for listening, jb
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