In my ideal reality, my coffee making god looks like this:
Sleek, sophisticated, graceful, independent. The Keurig gives the impression that one has the freedom to leisurely sip coffee at a sidewalk cafe, soaking up sun, eavesdropping on conversations, la dee dah-ing, not a care in the world. After all, with a gazillion little cups of flavor to choose from, the world must truly be the Keurig owner's oyster.
In my real reality, my coffee making god looks like this:
This work of Cuisinart, a 12-cup coffee generator with a built-in bean grinder, was part of my Mother's Day present. Sleek and sophisticated? I think so. But unlike the Keurig, it's built for coffee drinkin'. This baby gives the impression that one is gonna kick come coffee hiney. Heck to the yeah! (Sorry for the hiney and the yeah. I am really trying to stop swearing. Not that I have a sailor's mouth or anything, but we've had some close calls with the peeps. Nothing says Bad Mom like a four-year-old who swears like a sailor).
Perhaps the best part about this machine is that when the grinder kicks in, it sounds like a helicopter is about to land on the roof. Seriously cool. It makes a person sit straight up in bed. At 4:55 am. Which is when I prefer my coffee to perform its percolation.
In my real reality, my coffee making god looks like this:
Perhaps the best part about this machine is that when the grinder kicks in, it sounds like a helicopter is about to land on the roof. Seriously cool. It makes a person sit straight up in bed. At 4:55 am. Which is when I prefer my coffee to perform its percolation.
It's purty. I would like to hear it sometime. After 4:55, of course. :)
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