Thats me making espresso with my newest toy, a vintage La Pavoni Europiccola (late sixties, early seventies model). I’m using the portafilter of the Olympia Express, because it has much better balance and grip on the handle. The shot turned out a little uneven (wobbling mouse tail), but it was flawless in the taste department. The espresso made from a home roasted blend, roasted by a fellow coffee maniac with a modified popcorn maker.

The sun was shining even more radiantly outside; to the point that beads of sweat began forming on his forehead, despite the early September weather with the chilly autumn breeze. Flame-colored leaves fluttered down from the trees onto the collage of lemony leaves that were scattered about the ground.

He shivered as the wind ruffled his hair, and cars breezed by, splashing cold puddles onto the sidewalk. The sun sank behind a saggy grey cloud as he passed the fire station and crossed the street, the Cadillac House in view. A few cars stood idly in the parking lot behind the restaurant, no one moving.

The old place looked as rickety as ever, the windows collecting so much dust and grime that they were barely translucent anymore. A few potted plants stood in the windows, bright green and standing out like a sore thumb in the midst of all the red and yellow shades outside.

He pulled the heavy screen door open and watched it slam shut to make sure the sign didn’t unhook from its hinges outside, and hit a customer in the head. Inside the entire place reeked of smoke and greasy food. People puffed on cigarettes under the dull chandeliers, gossiping and sipping their coffee.

In the far corner of the restaurant sat a young blonde girl, maybe eleven years old, bundled up with crimson gloves and a beige overcoat buttoned up to her throat. Her long, gloved fingers were curled around a steamy cup of cappuccino, and she flashed a smile at him, though he was barely able to focus when he’d just seen what he did earlier. Instead of politely smiling back, waving, or even sending back a quick glance her way, he stormed off to the kitchen to consult Karen.

In the other half of the restaurant some men were watching the news, and a woman with five children sat huddled in the booth in the corner, ordering an entire continental breakfast. Karen stood behind the counter, holding a yellow notepad and a pen in her hand, straws, sugar packets and napkins tucked in her apron.

"Oh, hi honey," she smiled and handed an older man an entire handful of napkins, "Did you bring extra money?"
"Yeah," he said and fished it out of his pockets, handing it to her it a great, wrinkled mass, "I have a question for you-,"

"Sorry, hang on just a second," she said as her manager, Mr. Shuler, yelled from across the room to grab number seven’s order. She scurried away to table number seven on the other half of the restaurant, and rested hr hand on her hip, just as she always does when she’s aching to hear some news.

Daxter tore his eyes away from her and took a seat next to a grey-haired old woman, her hair done up in a gigantic swirl toward the front of her head. Her thin, white blonde hair looked freakishly natural. As did her hairdo. It must be a wig… he thought. He stole one last glance and noticed that the woman was now staring down at him, as he was at her. He blushed embarrassedly and looked away, sweeping the salt shaker over inadvertently. He frowned and picked it up hesitantly as the others sitting at the bar stared.

"Sorry," he grumbled, resting his elbows on t
the table. His mother came hurrying back, but just as he was about to open his mouth, she began rushing around, filling cups with orange juice and popping toast in the toaster,

"Karen, can I head down to the harbor and come back later?" he asked, hoping she wouldn’t be too hurt. Just then, the door swung open and the bell rang,

"No, no!" she panted, probably nearsweatingg to death in her black dress pants, "Come back later. We’re having a rush hour right now, everyone is coming in for our world famous-," but before she had the chance to answer, Mr. Shuler began nagging her again. She sighed and carried the drinks over to the tables. The woman next to Daxxter began puffing a cigarette, and puffed the smoke directly in his face. He held his breath, expecting the familiar sizzling burn of the smoke, and instead smelled vanilla, mixed with a dash of mint. He breathed it in deeper, the smellcaressingg him.

It smelled familiar, like a thousand sugar cookies baking in an oven,
while chewing a mild piece of mint gum. It was oddly refreshing, yet deliciously addictive to him. He hopped down from thebar stooll and shoved his way through the crowded restaurant and out the front door, where a blast of cold air brushed him.

He crossed the street, suspiciouslyeyingg anyone who even so much as glanced at him. He pushed his way through town, battling the strong wind, until he made his way to the storefronts. About a dozen stores sit side-by-side, waiting eagerly for customers, but none came.

Autumn was early, people were scarce, and summer was fading at last.
* * * * *

So I wrote this yesterday, but it sounds kind of boring to me. What do you think? Does it keep your interest or are you bored with it?
*******Oh my gosh, this is a TON longer than I thought…. so sorry! If I’d known it was this long I’d have chopped some off u-_- *********
No, I don’t mind a little criticism ^-^ the boy is actually 13 years old, and this is a hard chapter for me to write.

It picks up after this chapter, but I have no idea how to make it sound better. The beginning is interesting, but also slow.

He is actually a Spirit Guardian from another dimension, who sees ghosts from that dimension who are trying to save him from the Lemure (or shadow people) that are attacking him even on earth, where his real parents thought he would be safe from them.
@Joe: No, I don’t plan o posting the entire story here, but I like some people’s opinions. If I knew people that lived by me that were atually interested in what I write then I would ask them. But sadly, I don’t

The begnning though I am having major problems with.. I’m just really excited because this is the only story idea I’ve come up with so far that I’ve actually felt good about writing
@-Rocker Child-: thanks. I need something to fill the gap though… I have a boy who sees ghosts, but I don’t want him to know he’s froma nother dimension right away. I want him to meet a girl (who’s a ghost) and an old woman, who he doesn’t believe at first.

(PS. This chapter is 5,000 plus words ;] the question details can only hold 5,000 words, and I have much more than that, just, you know.. FYI)

A demo application coded with the Cappuccino framework wich uses the Juggernaut push server Here you can download the test application: github.com

An education overview of the steps to making a latte – includes instructions on dosing, tamping, pulling espresso shots, and steaming milk.

1) Why do you drink coffee?

2) How does drinking coffee make you feel?

3) When do you drink coffee?

4) How does coffee fit into your day? Do you schedule/alter your day to accommodate a cup of coffee? Tell me how.

5) Do you distinguish between coffee and cappuccino/latte? How are they different in your eyes?

6) If McDonald’s offered capuccino/lattes, would you try it? Why or Why not?

7) What is your general perception of your favorite coffee retailer (ie: Starbucks, McDonald’s, Peets, Coffee Bean)?