Coffee

I get excited about little things.

Call me crazy, but my new coffeemaker is absolutely beautiful. I found it in Wal-Mart, all sparkly and white and clean, and now it resides on my kitchen counter, where my enthusiasm for it has almost carried undertones of the stereotypical 1950's domestic. New household appliances! Rather an odd feeling for a young, hippie-hearted urbanitess. Watch out, June--you've never seen the likes of this chick before.

In this case, I'm mainly reveling in the enjoyment of the new and shiny, not being much of a caffeine addict myself. Coffee indulgence, for me, almost always comes as part of a social event. I got the coffeemaker for social events; particularly Brandon, through whose veins runs the java of kings, and my small group, which meets at my place. And I have to say, having just done a test run on it, that that stout little 4-cup Mr. Coffee percolates a good cuppa joe.

Fun fact for the week: Did any of you know that Bach--yes, the Bach--wrote a whole cantata about coffee? Appropriately titled "The Coffee Cantata", of course. If I have my fun facts straight, the good and gifted Johann Sebastian wrote it for his thirteen kids. The cantata tells the story of a lovely maiden whose father forbade her to drink any more coffee, and told her that he would not allow her to marry unless she gave it up. So she gave it up, but secretly resolved that a man could only win her favor if he promised to allow her coffee after the marriage.

How do I know this? Two words: Voice lessons. The aria "Far Beyond All Other Pleasures" (the maiden's love song for coffee; a sort of German baroque equivalent of "The Cheeseburger Song" from VeggieTales) is one of the toughest screechers I have ever had to stretch my lilting little lyric-soprano voice to reach.