What I like about Bishop

(just ripping off Helen Newman's post riffing about life in Copenhagen)

The friends who will give you the shirts off their backs, esp. the ones who are always game for impromptu potlucks and who come bearing goodness in a dish.

The Black Sheep, the brilliant coffee bar that is less than a minute's walk away, and the attached Spellbinder Books.

The 340 days of relentless sunshine.

The White Mountains.

The Sierras.

The very tiny, but very much loved and supported arts community.

The Millpond Music Festival, where all the kids run wild and free and the musicians come from so very far away to entertain.

The Tri County Fair at Labor Day Weekend.

The Mule Days Parade.

Living downtown with my big tomato garden.

Cycling to do almost all my errands.

The fact that nobody locks their doors.

Guinea Pigus Maximus

Wednesday morning, we booked over to the Black Sheep coffee bar to act as guinea pigs for Peter and Konrad who are trying to get their 4 shots, 4 cappuccinos, and 4 specialty drinks pulled in under 15 minutes. They were practicing for the regional barista competition.

Peter is using a new single origin Rwandan which he is factoring into his Sierra Oro blend. It is lovely, bright, with apricot and blueberries, but not the huge brightness bomb that Ethiopian Yirgacheffe can sometimes be. Other folks are getting cinnamon and butterscotch. I haven't yet.

We had Peter's sublime straight single shot (and I don't normally like straight espressos) and smooth, creamy, intriguing single cappuccino. Good grief, he is ready. Each cap featured the same damn latte art fan in the same scale. It was a sight to behold four identical drinks.

The boy has a cold. The boy is getting pinkeye. Matty still accommodating, with our goo and crabbiness.