I’ve been thinking a lot about espresso machines lately. I used to have a DeLonghi machine, but it was a pain to use, and when I owned it I felt like I had to use it, instead of hitting cafes. I like going to cafes, you see. I like the mix of people, the funky music, the sound of the steaming milk as it makes froth and foam, the cheery clatter of cups and saucers.

However, I also like really strong coffee with pretty foam on top when I write, and without an espresso machine I can’t make one. We have a wet bar in the kitchen, and I’ve often fantasized about having a restaurant-quality machine hard-wired and hard-plumbed into that space.

It’s just a fantasy, of course, because we don’t have that kind of cash, and if we did, we’d be replacing carpets, putting in a hot tub, and rebuilding the front entry, but it’s fun to dream about such things. I try to justify it by reminding Fuzzy that he likes frothy hot chocolate, and that espresso machines of that caliber are also great for steaming scrambled eggs – nothing is fluffier, actually, then eggs done by steam injection.

Fuzzy brings me back from my fantasies with questions like, “So you wouldn’t have to go to Starbucks, then, right?”

Silly man.

(If you came here looking for my Thursday Thirteen post, it’s below. )