In the daffiest local development of recent memory, our across-the-street
neighbor invited my wife over for a cup of coffee. As this social occasion
unfolded, our neighbor realized that she actually doesn't know how to make
coffee. She offered orange juice instead...which she was unable to find.
I asked my wife if it was 'doesn't know how to make coffee' in the 'my
husband makes it and I don't know how to operate the Mr. Coffee' sense, or
the 'can't find the instant and unclear on the heating of water' sense. The
woman who bought me my espresso machine for Xmas says that she doesn't know,
and is hoping not to find out the answer to that question.
It's frightening to realize that there's lots of folks out there with a long
way to climb to reach the Mountain Grown heights of F*lgers.
riding the wild learning curve, in Houston