Alistair N. writes: "My Darling Cooper, I am a hopeless romantic. Every morning the barista at my favorite coffee shop sends me personal messages in the foam caps of my lattes, and I can not for the life of me read the signals. Near Halloween, my latte arrives with a toothy pumpkin swirled into its foam head. When hanukkah arrives, my swirls turn to the billowing golden caps of challah bread. Near to Christmas day, my latte appears table side adorned with frothy snowmen, christmas trees and when I'm lucky, the body of Christ, nails and all, hanging from a dark espresso cross. Even president's day isn't left off the calendar, when I swear I see Nixon staring back at me. Could be Ford. I can't be certain. Anyway...
It is about the regular days that I write you... On regular days I receive the sweetest, most personal message swirled into my foam: a simple expression of love: the human heart.
Does my Barista love me or is it a passing crush?
- Alistair N. (the guy across the street who notices when you vacuum late at night)"
Cooper responds: Dear Alistair, I don't vacuum but thanks for thinking of me if I did. My humans take care of the vacuuming for me and Moxie (I just hang out at a safe distance and watch). About your question... Did you find true love in your mug of joe? The answer you seek is within:
Monday, November 26, 2007
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