Husband, who's heartbeat is the music to which I dance my way through life, has once again declared war on caffeine. This time it is because he is attempting to do the right thing for his heart health and all of that. I don't remember marrying a grown up but apparently I am married to one now. It used to be all "poutine for breakfast" and "chocolate frosted sugar bombs" but now it's all "whole grain loaves" and "only three hot dogs for lunch". I can tell which way the wind is blowing on this one, a few days ago we actually drove past a Tim Horton's without stopping. So I have decided to join him rather than put up a fight. It has not been a fun few days.
Decaf is to coffee what something really lame is to everything else that is awesome in the universe. At the Oscar after-party of beverages, where coffee is hanging out being fabulous with Jason Statham and Chris Hemsworth, decaf is not even on the guest list. If decaf were a band it would be Creed. If it were a car it would be a Gremlin. If it were a planet it wouldn't be, it would be Pluto. Decaf is the snaggle-toothed albino Ozark hillbilly of drinks. Sure it can play the banjo, but it's all a deception and you'll wind up regretting it in the end.
Husband can calculate altitude above sea level in his head while flying in the mountains. He can make blueberry pancakes and sings my favourite songs to me in the morning. His heart is strong and I want to keep it that way, so I am humouring him and drinking decaf and smiling while I do it, but Heaven help him if he tries to give up bacon.
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