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Daughter JenniferI don't believe I ever have my daily espresso without thinking of my daughter, Jennifer. It makes her a part of one of my most important daily activities, almost ritualistically. Jennifer, like me, is a foodie. In her case, I would say a certifiable foodie. I can say that not because of her consumption, which everyone would describe as moderate. It's because of her obvious love for the preparation of the food and her anticipation of what it will do for the people she loves. She is so reflective of her grandmother in that regard.

I allowed a brief thought into my head a few moments ago imagining my life without the Tassimo that Jennifer got for me a few years ago. Having just finished my espresso that Friend Tassimo renders reliably, consistently, efficiently; I'm feeling, well . . . rather good, y'know, serene I would say. Jennifer fits right into that feeling. I suppose its all connected, isn't it?

Next to me on the T.V. tray by my chair is the now empty, hand-painted, Italian espresso cup from the set I keep close to the machine. My process for making this oh so important little dose of flavor and stimulus is consistent and efficient. Everything I need to achieve this peace is close at hand in a corner pantry I constructed downstairs next to the garage man-door, which separates the under-the-bedroom garage from the steps to my kitchen. It is out of ear shot of my still sleeping wife. It all works rather well, and that alone provides an element of satisfaction.

Tassiomo Coffee MakerI anticipate the preparation with pleasure:

There is more to the ritual, but I think this sufficient to present the idea.

I suppose the effects of insomnia can be unsettling and inconvenient for many. Working from home as I do on a project to project basis, my sporadic insomnia is not all that disruptive to my routine and does not restrict my output of work. I wonder if, given what I feel with Jennifer and my espresso helping me, I am not developing an appreciation for insomnia. I have this opportunity for quiet, reflective time before I start working. I'm feeling good. I'm able to write a bit. Not so bad, really. And there are thoughts of my daughter, always very good thoughts.