D is for Dunkin Donuts

Hi and welcome dear reader!

I’ve been thinking about this week’s post all week. I was rehearsing inside of my head all the different ways I could tackle my topic and I finally settled on D for Dunkin’ Donuts. I hope you like donuts. See, I have this fabulous memory with my Dad and wait–I’m getting ahead of myself here.

Sit down and find a cup of something to drink, then come back. I can wait.

Back? Lovely! Let’s get started.

My Dad and I have always been travelers. As long as I can recall, we’ve both shared a love for exploring new places and long, trips for the fun of it. Any trip, as long as I have nothing important “pending” (homework, a job, more homework, a writing deadline and so on), I can easily pack myself up and into the car, jeep, van or whatever it is that is going somewhere and give my soul the break it has been clamoring for. Traveling is a way to recharge my enormous, expressive imagination and I have many fond memories of sitting with my head craned to the side, watching things pass by.

I love to be on my way somewhere, to see the different scenery passing in the customary blur of color, to listen to a song on repeat for hours until I’ve memorized all the lyrics and I can pitch my voice fairly close to the actual artist, to have those wonderful conversations that only surface after you’ve been driving for at least two hours. Some of my fondest childhood memories come from spending time with my Dad on the road trips we took together.

As a traveling companion, I’m cheerful (most of the time), awake (except for the times when I’m sleeping), a good DJ (I never make a playlist, so I’m pretty much guessing at the next song based on the atmosphere in the vehicle) and I only need to make the occasional stop (Translate = I ran out of chocolate chip cookies or bottled water).

That said. While I am mostly incapable of reading a map, I can accurately follow, program and read directions or a GPS. I am a nightowl because morning does not agree with me, so I don’t mind traveling late into the night or staying up past a standard bedtime. I’ve always had a knack for picking decent travel music to keep everyone happy, so it’s probably a good thing I don’t usually make playlists. Tic-tac is also a good “munching habit” when I’ve run out of cookies.

Anyway, back to the topic. I can honestly say that traveling with my dad is a real treat, especially when it’s just the two of us. We share many things in common, with a few exceptions. Up until my university “career” I was strongly opposed to anything coffee related, in any shape, scent or form.

Dad has dozens of stories where I would ask him to stop drinking coffee, due to the silly stories I’d hear about it. “Coffee makes your head hard” “Coffee keeps you up so you can’t sleep.” “Getting less than two hours of sleep is worse than driving drunk” and so on. I was absolutely convinced that my dear old Dad would somehow manage to send himself to an early grave because of this ridiculous coffee habit.

Of course, once I entered University, I learned about that precious little energy booster by the name of caffeine. I’d made it through community college fueled by Dr. Pepper and the occasional bar of Kit-Kat. Uni required something a little more heavy duty and preferably with less sugar.

Enter Coffee.

Oh how I dreaded the very word. I can’t really tell you how I ended up drinking it in the first place. I don’t actually remember. I’m still utterly convinced that it’s horrible and tastes awful. But I can tell a good cup from a “bad” one and I know exactly how I like  also still drink a medium-sized with six creamers and no sugar. Dad takes a small-size with five creams and no sugar. I guess that’s one thing we don’t quite do in perfect synchronization.

While I don’t remember how I ended up starting a coffee habit in addition to my tea-drinking obsession (and trust me, it really is an obsession!), I remember why I didn’t stop. See, trips make for interesting conversation possibilities when you have a setting where x amount of human beings are crammed in a small space with no possible exit for  hours and miles on end.

It means you might have conversations you never thought you would have or you would say things that you finally worked up the courage to say. It also means if it’s just me and Dad, I have his attention all to myself and I can ramble on about whatever I like or we can take turns. It also meant there were treats involved, things like donuts and coffee.

I should warn you right now that I am a loyal Dunkin Donuts gal for life.

This is partially my Dad’s fault (just like the coffee habit!), but he can only claim half-credit here. I’ve had folks try to convert me to Krispy Kreme before and it didn’t work. They tried. They really did, bless their sugared little hearts.

No, I’m serious. It didn’t work. Krispy Kreme donuts are smaller, they rattle in the box and they can’t make a decent Boston Cream donut. They also come in this ridiculous box of green and white, with a hint of a pink or red, that reminds me of ivy and Christmas in July and it just doesn’t work.

My precious Dunkin’ Donuts on the other hand, they make a mean Boston Cream (and a pretty good Bavarian Cream, if they’re out of the Boston one) and their donuts fill up the entire box. They also have a nicer color scheme.

If you don’t know how partial I am to colors already, then you can brush up your memory on this post. I treat my colors like crayons. Very seriously. Dunkin’ donuts has a cheerful hot pink and orange, mixed with a warm coffee brown, a lighter shade of tan (or gold, if you must nitpick) and of course, a solid white background. I am quite fond of it.

I should also mention that I can’t vouch for their coffee.

Well, kind of. See, I’m not very picky about my coffees–yet, if it’s a good cup, it’s a good cup. If it’s bad, I’ll pawn it off on *cough*Dad*cough*, and I’ll try something else or reach for a good ol’ Dr. Pepper. However, Dad is picky about his coffee and I trust his judgment as far as his coffee tastes go. Dunkin Donuts are good for donuts. Get your coffee before you get your donut. Then enjoy them together.

Now, before you start wondering how I made it into my twenties without ordering some kind of latte, allow me to the stress the term of “coffee.” I never said anything about lattes, frappes, espressos and mochas. They can have their own post.

This week’s letter for solely for the donuts and Dad.

It feels something like this:

Cups of coffee : $10.00
Dozen donuts : $10.00
Trip with Dad? Priceless.

I’m not addicted to coffee, (I save that for my precious tea habit) and I don’t have caffeine withdrawals, (though I will whack you with a spatula if you dare give me decaf), but if you ever have the time and you’d care to go for coffee?

I can handle that.

And if you ever stop by for a visit and I know that you don’t drink tea, well, I’ve been told that I make a pretty good cup of coffee, so call before you come and I’ll put the pot on.

A great big bundle of thanks belongs to my Dad here, so, thanks Dad, for that. See, I love that my best memories of an everyday routine (getting a sweet breakfast treat or a hot beverage) remind me of happy, carefree days and good, solid conversations.

and thank you, dear reader, for stopping by my blog today. Have a lovely weekend!

~Sara