It’s the weekend before my birthday I and decided to drive three hours straight west into the mountains to spend time with an old friend. She lives in a picturesque little town called Carbondale. The Crystal River flows nearby, the mountains surround us, and the downtown is only one street. I’m sipping my cappuccino in a cafe called Bonfire. The drink is good, and since it’s late in the afternoon the place is nearly empty. There’s me of course, writing, and a small group of baby boomer’s discussing things like the con-artistry of Costco, and raising kids. Outside the temperature hovers just above freezing and the sleet turned to snow. In Carbondale the trees all have Christmas lights and the bars have outdoor fireplaces for people to enjoy both the the scenery and beer.
I can’t say this is cafe is entirely my style but the scone I ate was delicious and the cappuccino is doing it’s job of perking me up and keeping my productive. In between writing this I’m adding the finishing touches to another travel piece for a different blog. I have a book too (of course), and the pressure is on to finish the last hundred plus pages before it’s due at the library on Monday.