The Mysterious Woman At The Freshly Pressed Coffee House and Restaurant

IMG00074-20100801-1906Everyone at The Freshly Pressed Coffee House and Restaurant turned to look.  Some stared without apology.  I didn’t.  I couldn’t.  I looked up casually and went back to my work.  I was perched on a weathered looking chair at a crooked and unpainted table in a corner of the coffee shop area.  From my vantage point, I could see who was entering or leaving and that’s how I saw her enter.  I was on a mission and couldn’t be derailed by the sight of a woman.  I was intent on writing THAT blog.  The big one.  The one that would get my name up there with the pros. This woman would not rob me of this opportunity!

The Freshly Pressed Coffee Shop and Restaurant is far from being an upscale restaurant.  The decor is limited and consists of wooden tables covered by white and cheap looking tablecloths.  The chairs are not comfortable.  Hardwood floors looked ready for a makeover. In fact, the entire restaurant screamed for a makeover.  With its dimly lit interior, you really needed the coffee to keep you awake, unless you kept awake by blogging about something interesting.  The lingering aroma of every different blend of coffee hangs in the air mixed with whatever food was hot out of the kitchen.  Despite what it didn’t have going for it, it was invitingly warm and cozy and the atmosphere was very welcoming.  It had a homely feel to it and that’s why I chose to blog here.  It was my Eden.  My little niche was situated in the farthest and darkest corner.  From my vantage point, I could the comings and goings but usually don’t.

From the corner of my eye I saw the woman make a bee line for the table right next to mine.  I smelled her perfume before she was close enough to fully drink her in.  Liz Taylor perfume? No, too young. She was only about 30 was my guess and a stunner!  A definite head turner.  Now it was my turn to stare at the thing of beauty.  Kate Hudson and Jessica Alba all rolled into one.  Her long blonde hair flowed orderly down the nape of her neck which had a red silk scarf hanging loosely around it.  She wore a low-necked black blouse complemented by a hip-hugging and contour-revealing black skirt that flirted with the top of her knees.  Black leather boots came up her long legs.  Her face was angelic.  Brushed with a light touch of makeup and a hint of lipstick on her pouty lips.  I also noticed that she wore no wedding band.  In fact, her long and well manicured fingers were bare.  Not that it would have made a difference to me.  She was out of my league.  Plus I was a married blogger.  In love with this mysterious but beautiful woman whose peach-like lips opened up partly to reveal her magnificent pearly whites in a smile.  She smiled at me!

Now where was I?

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Honey, what’s that noise?

“Honey, what’s that noise?” My wife’s words would interrupt my dreams and bring me from the depths of sleep, unwillingly.  I faintly hear a sound of something as my sense of hearing is not yet re-adjusted and tuned to my worldly surroundings.  “Hmm…I dunno”. I replied groggily.  Laying it on a bit in the hopes that she would recognize that I was in a deep sleep and let me continue from where I left off.  It was not to be.

“What is it, Babes?”  She asked.  Well, we are both lying in bed, I was way off in la la land frolicking with Jessica Biel and Jessica Alba until you rudely woke me up.  How would I know what was making that sound?  Maybe it was a cat but since we don’t have a cat, I will say the dog.  Come to think of it, we don’t own a dog so let’s go with ghost. Yes, a ghost.  Our house is haunted!  Wait, not so fast.  I haven’t explored all options yet.  Maybe it was a precariously balanced object succumbing to gravity.  I like that one as it exercised my vocabulary and made me sound smart.  But honey, I have not clue what it is.

“Can you go check?”  Again she persists.  “Hell no!  I am not going down there to face who or whatever made that noise!”  I declared.  “Well you are the man of the house! You should.”  Gosh, if I knew that being a man came with all these responsibilities I would have been a girl.  “Fine!  I’ll go check.  You stay here under your comfy covers!”  Armed to the teeth with a shoe and broom, she tiptoed out of the bedroom and that’s the last time I saw my wife.  Just kidding, it’s not a fairy tale, this is true stuff.

So off she went to confront the noise-maker and rude-waker-upper.  Two minutes later, she was back.  Shoe uncocked and unloaded, broom re-sheathed. “What was it?”  I ventured to ask.  “Oh nothing.  Just the furnace.”

I closed my eyes and tried to summon up the Jessicas again.  Come back girls! Daddy’s back.  Now where were we?

The joys of being man…