My Very Own Coffee Klatch

I have become a regular at the Starbucks on Penn & 8th on Capitol Hill. At least 3 mornings a week I stop in for my (now decaf) short skim latte. They know what I want when I walk in the door. (That’s what it means to be a regular.)

All summer long I noticed a group of 3 women about my age who would meet at the same time each day for coffee outside. They sometimes wore warm-up suits, but didn’t really look like serious joggers. However, they did look like serious coffee drinkers.

This morning I noticed one of them staking out a table inside. I comments to her that it looked like they had moved in for the winter. To my surprise, she invited me to join them. My initial response was that I needed to get on to work (and I was parked illegally out front.) But then I said, “What the hell?” and pulled up a chair. I quickly met Gail, Janet, and MaryLou and we realized how many people we all know on Capitol Hill. They were bemoaning the loss of their treasured massage therapist who recently retired. I said, “I know her. That’s my friend Barbara.” I promptly told them about my massage therapist at Healing Arts, (providing her phone number on an old appt card) and they were eternally grateful, talking about how great it is to look forward to a monthly massage. I didn’t tell them I go every week!

So now I have a coffee klatch, something that formed a big part of my mother’s social life when I was growing up. These are women who get together to gossip and bitch and moan and even be happy more often than not. The coffee is really just the excuse to get together.

I expect I will have a 4th place at their table any time I choose. Their parting words to me today were, “You should really think about moving to Capitol Hill!” Who would have ever dreamed how easy it is to make friends!