I was especially sleepy on my way to work this morning; a coffee stop was a must. While I waited in line at the
Alaska Coffee Roasters drive up, I almost had to pinch myself. The smell of wet vegetation and tobacco smoke, coming from the outstretched arm of the woman in the truck behind me, made me think, for a fleeting moment, I was back in Virginia. But my idling car didn't belong at Vienna's
Jammin Java, South Capitol's walk-up cafés, or even a Northern Virginia Starbucks; and despite the recent rain, the air was not quite damp enough.
