I love me some iced coffee.
When I saw The Pioneer Woman's ode to the precious, I knew it had to be my new best friend. My new way to finally end my current (really expensive) VIA love affair.
Plus, it would mean the two minutes that I normally spend making it each morning would be reduced to zero. Imagine what I could do with those extra two minutes a day?
Two minutes of peace.
Two minutes before I have to brush the tangles out of my wimpy scalped daughter.
Two minutes to read a paragraph in a magazine.
Life changing, I say. Life changing.
I really don't. But on my recent kid filled, solo road trip I NEEDED coffee. Like keep from crashing on the freeway needed. The girls wanted breakfast... so I decided to pull a two-fer. They get food, I get power to drive another few hours. But I have been burned before by McCafe. Burned badly. I have tried it three times. Three times it has ended up in the trash. But people like it... like really, really like it...
Why don't I??? How badly can they mess up ice, coffee and milk?
No sweeteners. No weirdness. Just three ingredients.
Three ingredients gone so very, very wrong.
McCafe got dumped in the bushes at Starbucks.
All was right with the world again.
We didn't crash on the freeway. I didn't throw up on the side of the road.
But back to the real story....
P Dub and her gallons of iced happiness.
(But this time I used my favey Starbucks Pike Place Roast. Maybe I'm a snob after all...)
Because it was good.
But this time I was more patient, rested and careful.
It is now safely tucked in half gallon mason jars.
Spout-less mason jars.
Happily greeting me each morning.
As I take the two minutes to reflect on how dramatic I sometimes make my life.
Thank you Pioneer Woman.
No thank you cheapy Target dispenser.
Although, my scrubbed and cleaned fridge has never looked better...