In lieu of flowers, please send donations

(Reminder: If you haven't entered my Sloppy Baby giveaway, leave me a comment here. It's open until Friday, then closed for all eternity.)

Thank you for your condolences on the loss of my Starbucks.

(I can't believe Hallmark didn't start making a card for that as soon as the store closure list was released last July, honestly. Talk about a missed marketing opportunity.)

To clarify, I do have other Starbucks in my general vicinity. Specifically, there is one in almost every Target store, and seeing as this is Target's home base, I can't throw a cat without hitting a Target.

(Not that I'd throw a cat, but....)

(No, actually, I take that back. I tossed our ex-cat countless times when she was in the process of sinking her teeth deep into my calf muscles. So the statement stands.)

It's just that my old Starbucks, may she rest in peace, was right around the corner from my house. On balmy summer evenings, we rode our bikes there and bought Vivanno smoothies for the kids. I could swing by, get some new beans for our morning brew and be on my way again in less than two minutes. I harbored fantasies that one day, when the kids were all in school, I would make that Starbucks my morning writing laboratory and complete my transformation into Hip 30-Something Writer Chick. (Which I would basically describe as a more mature version of Word Girl, my personal hero.)

But now, those dreams are shattered, and the only stand-alone coffee joint on my daily drive is a Caribou Coffee, which, like Target, is headquartered in the Twin Cities, and therefore, should have my loyalty. But I find their coffee to be anemic and their customer service dismal or outright hostile. So I shrink from handing them $2 for a cup of joe.

And that is why I will be upping my consumption of coffee brewed by the sexiest barista on the planet. Corey makes the best French press coffee for me each Saturday and Sunday morning. It's like drinking warm-brand-new-fleece-worn-next-to-a-roaring-fire. With hazelnut cream. (Or peppermint mocha, as soon as Coffee-Mate decides the holiday season has begun. Note to Coffee-Mate executive: Target's already made the call. Get on board, people. Release the yumminess.)

Plus, Corey's customer service is second to none. On Saturday, while he was at the gym, I text messaged him (I know! Text messaging! See? I'm halfway there to that Hip Writer thing.) the following: "On your way home, could you stop and get me a Salted Caramel Hot Chocolate? Oh. ... Wait. ... "

I was really just trying to make him laugh. The last couple of weeks have been busy and exhausting, leaving us very little time to connect. I didn't want a hot chocolate as much as I wanted to show him I was still thinking about him, that he remains my best friend.

And that is why he made my day, when, 30 minutes later, when he walked into the house holding a steaming cup of my new favorite drink.

He had driven 20 minutes OUT OF HIS WAY to get it for me.

Who needs a neighborhood Starbucks? I've got my love to keep me warm.

And caffeinated.