A Vignette

Recently, my fifteen year old son was badgering me. This is nothing new. On the night in question, he was badgering me about how he wanted to stay up past bedtime on a school night - a topic which he brought up immediately after bedtime. MY bedtime, even. This too, you may have guessed, is nothing new. Continuing with the syndicated reruns of This Is Your Teenager: Greatest Hits, he also wanted to retain possession of an internet-enabled device and for me, his mother, who has never once even SEEN a turnip truck, to leave the router plugged in. Again: Nothing new, but at this point, hilariously so, because, well... Right. Haha. As if!

My son launched into his supporting arguments: He is plenty responsible and can indeed be trusted to go to sleep on time! It matters not that I, his mother, who happened to get up around 2am the night before only to find him awake and online, presented direct evidence to the contrary. My child subscribes to the idea that the more loudly he states his position, the more believable his statements will be. "I ALWAYS GO TO SLEEP ON TIME!" he bellowed. It doesn't matter if he fell asleep in Latin class! He is mature! He knows stuff! He knows lots of stuff! He listens to hip hop!

Now, I have no idea what that last part was about, but I was irritated, close to losing my temper, and comparing my 39 years to his 15, I know more - about lots of things - than he does. So: I'm grumpy, Over It, and quite tired of this nightly bickering. I shouted "OH? HIP HOP? ALLLLRIGHTY THEN," I Jim Carrey at him, "EVER HEARD OF EAZY-E? Hip hop legend. Mom talk sidebar: He started having sex at 12, had seven kids with six different women, and died from AIDS-related illnesses when he was only 31! Mom talk sidebar done. NOW: NAME TWO SONGS FROM EAZY-E's GROUNDBREAKING 1988 SOLO ALBUM EAZY-DUZ-IT!"

Information overload, challenge accepted, and then finally, blank stare from the aforementioned teen. "No? Nothing?" I ask.

My baby, over six feet tall, all shoulders and elbows and bravado, blinks at me. Big, heavy-lidded, sleepy-in-spite-of-himself, thunking, Jabba the Hutty blinks.

I narrow my eyes at him. "Alright, then: Finish this: "YO, DRE!"

More blinking. "You mean... DOCTOR Dre?" he asked. Half a point for that, I think, but do not say. What I do say, is "The correct answer would have been "What's up?", at which point I would have replied "GIMME A FUNKY ASS BASSLINE!", but you lose! Goodnight! Go to bed! Good day, sir! I SAID GOOD DAY!

"Yes ma'am." he says, amused. Welcome to a parental jbeebling.

Ring Ring Ring Bananaphobe

My Dearest Starbucks,

I love you. Let's just get that out of the way first: I honestly love you. I love your coffee. I love my Starbucks Portland mug, a keepsake from my hometown. It's my go-to, my favorite, the one mug I'll wash to use even though there are a dozen others clean in the cupboard. If you're curious, it's from the Skyline Series, the "City of Roses" 18oz mug, which I've owned for over a decade. My favorite coffee drink, the Pumpkin Spice Latte, is so beloved in my heart of coffee hearts that the day it becomes available each year is like my very own special kind of Christmas.

So, now, at this point we're clear on how I feel, right? You know I love you. Thus, dear Bux - can I call you Bux? - I feel sure you will take this carefrontation letter in the spirit in which it is intended. Yes? Okay.

Here's the thing: Your baked goods should be awesome and delicious, but they are not. They're kind of gross, and it's because of the whole display case situation you've got going on.

the contaminated cookie bag

Don't get me wrong; the display case is always a perfectly lovely well-lit presentation offering a tantalizing view of pretty muffins, brownies, crisped rice treats, scones, cake pops, and assorted other goodies. All of these goodies hanging around together in the same open air space as the Banana Walnut Bread is the problem. Why? Well, Bux, I'm glad you asked!

You see, while banana walnut bread should indeed and does taste like banana walnut bread, double chocolate brownies should most definitely not. Iced Lemon Pound Cake also should not taste like bananas, but it does. In fact, I've noticed over and over again that anything and everything coming out of the bakery case tastes like bananas. Cinnamon Chip Scones taste like cinnamon, and chips, and scones... and bananas. Cheese Danishes taste like cheese! Aaaand bananas. Today, I bought an enormous, gorgeous, enormously gorgeous, Chocolate Chunk Cookie, and lo! Neither chocolatey NOR cookie-ey, but it sure did taste like bananas!

The solution, I think, is a simple one, and won't require any new equipment or menu alterations. You know those clear covered dishes you guys use for offering free samples? Stick your banana walnut bread in one o'those bad boys and then but the whole business in the display case.

Bam. Problem solved!

Bux, I believe speak for banana-hating-bakery-goodies-loving Starbucks customers everywhere when I say I want to give you more of my moneydollars, but you're not making it very easy. I'll happily give you more of my hard-earned disposable income for a pastry when I buy a coffee... but I just can't do it again until you get a handle on this banana contamination problem. Because Bux, it is really super gross.

Thank you for your prompt attention to this matter.

Jen Bailey Bergen
Bananaphobe