This entry was originally supposed to be about something else entirely. It was SUPPOSED to be about the state of the bruises on my ankle and Isaac’s fascination with dragging blankets around. It was also supposed to be about knitting socks…but it’s not.
what could change my topic this quickly? Huh?
A trip to Starbucks. That can change everything.
I whined enough to Doug about the state of my ankle and how having an ankle injury with bruises that run up your leg, through your toes and around the top of your foot and is the size of a watermelon entitles me to a Starbucks run, that he relented and said “Ok. I’ll be your chauffer.”
So, we load Isaac into the car in his pajamas for our annual Reindeer dung (that’s another post) ride witha stop at Starbucks for the usual. A Black and white (1/2 mocha, 1/2 white mocha) for me and a kid sized hot chocolate for the boy. Easy order? Yep. Normally, if I don’t call it the Michael Jackson (Go Riverside Baristas!!) or something outlandish, they get the message and just say “with whip or foam?” AND usually going through the drive through isn’t a problem.
So, we pull into the drive through, and I lean over Doug to give my order. He can’t manage a Starbucks order. Trust me on that one.
The barista says (get ready…) “umm. What’s a black and white?”
I about DIED.
I said “1/2 white mocha, 1/2 regular mocha.”
Barista: “Ok. pull up tothe window.”
we drive up to the window, thinking everything’s ok….yeah, right. Too easy.
Barista leans out and says “ummm…a black and white…does that have espresso in it?”
Barista:” what’s in it again?”
me: “think white mocha with 1/2 regular mocha in it instead of all white mocha.”
Barista “ummm. Ok. And what was the rest of the order?”
me: “A kid’s hot chocolate with a straw.”
(I’m noticing here that the barista making drinks looks WICKED confusled.)
So, they hand us our drinks and I notice that it doesn’t smell just right. I take a sip, and it’s sorta right. Not as white-mocha-y as I like it, but it was either 1) go and hobble inwith my cup in hand and pray I didn’t get it all over me while hopping on my crutches. or 2) just suck up and deal and go back to the one on Nott St. East when I want it done right.
I relented and picked item #2.
I figured if I walked in and told them that they screwballed the drink, it would be too hard for them to understand…
I think I’ll go to Nott St. tomorrow and get a RIGHT one.
Maan…stupid, stupid people!
Oh, and my socks came out absolutely adorable…and 1 skein of Country Classics yarn for sox makes a pair of size 10 (yep, I’ve got big feet!) socks with some small amount of yardage to spare! Neato bandito!