I am not a coffee drinker.

I did, however, develop a taste for a good cappuccino while I was living in San Francisco. One requirement, in addition to a good blend, of a good cappuccino is that the top layer of whipped milk is creamy, not full of air bubbles. Then, no matter where I was living, I enjoyed late afternoons at the cafes with fellow artists or a lady friend. 

I would always bring my paper, ink, and color pencils. Then, while sipping my caffeine treat, I would create. Drawing in cafes became part of what I did. There was no downtime for this artist.

After countless hours and many cappuccinos, I had amassed a body of work over the years—most of them at a nearby Starbucks.

When my mother would come to visit me in Los Angeles, one of her favorite excursions was driving down with me from my Hollywood Hills home to a busy Starbucks across from the Beverly Center on La Cienega Boulevard. I would draw and she would people watch, listen to music piped in from a CD, read, and soak up the ambiance. 

Then, before leaving, I would show my mother what I had done with the art so far. She was in heaven. And so was this artist.