Confessions of a (Pumpkin) Spice Girl
by Tess F. |
October 09, 2010 05:21 PM |
41 comments
Tess F.
Location:
Cranford, NJ
Favorite Flavor:
Pumpkin Spice
If you could travel back in time, what era would you live in? I like where I am now. Facebook. iPhones. Movies on Demand.
How do you unwind after a long day? DVR'd TV with my husband, who always makes me laugh.
Three things you cannot live without…My family, my iPhone, my coffee.
I am a member of the Coffee-mate Brew Crew.
Some people wish for world peace. Others hope to win the lottery. I’ll tell you what I want—what I really, really want. Pumpkin Spice Coffee-mate. All year ‘round.
Now, I’m a smart girl. I know that the majority of coffee drinkers would rather not start a sweltering summer day with a beverage that warms them like a Thanksgiving pie. But a girl can dream.
And more importantly, a girl can stock up. Which is exactly what I do, every Fall, as soon as the leaves start hitting the ground.
Two years ago, it was easy. Pumpkin Spice was there, waiting for me every week like a trusty friend. Gradually, patiently, I built up my refrigerated arsenal.
“The supermarket called,” people would say when they peeked inside. “They want their Coffee-mate back.”
“Please,” my husband begged. “We actually do need to keep some food in here.”
That February, my local supermarket gave me a most loving Valentine, producing a strangely out-of-season, but nonetheless welcome Pumpkin Spice overstock. I filled my cart eagerly, victoriously, mentally calculating a savory partnership that would last well into the spring. A few months, I could last. Three whole seasons? More than I could bear.
Finally, September rolled around again. But something was wrong, horribly wrong. My Pumpkin Spice Coffee-mate was nowhere to be found. Every week, I’d carefully scan the shelves of the supermarket in my town. The next town. And yes—the next. There was Caramel Apple. Hazelnut. Gingerbread. I had to restrain myself from falling to my knees right there in front of the dairy case and howling at the injustice of Gingerbread—Gingerbread!—and not my beloved Pumpkin Spice in October.
I had to play the field. French Vanilla was a worthwhile companion during the summer hiatus, but always with the understanding it was only temporary. Could Vanilla Chai Spice step up to the plate? Possibly. The also-autumnal Cinnamon Vanilla Crème? Perhaps. Then one Sunday, dinner at my parents’ house… Belgian Chocolate Toffee. I was officially hooked. Or so I thought.
A few weeks later, on a particularly stormy, rain-soaked Sunday, the phone rang.
“Tess!” my friend exclaimed breathlessly. “You have to get to Shop-Rite. Pumpkin Spice everywhere!”
I hung up the phone and grabbed my car keys.
“Where are you going in this rain?” my husband asked.
“Baby… teething…Infant Tylenol…” I stammered.
The things we do for love.