Coffee with...

Have you heard?  I'm like one of the eleven people in the United States who don't drink coffee.

Well, yesterday we had our super nice, rather serious and thoughtfully practical pastor over to our house for some coffee and a muffin.  We have never had him over yet, so of course it began with a frenzy of cleaning (where OF COURSE the vacuum broke - and you do know I have a dog who sheds her weight in fur per day all over the ground like a flower girl strewing petals left and right in utter abandon.  Pure classic.  Had to happen, really.  Visualize a pink-clad me broom-sweeping every carpet and floor in a fury enough to have a bit of sweat lining my head.  Now turn up the spaz-notch like four levels and you have a good picture of what the early evening looked like.)

So, in he comes, we are pleased to have such an honored guest in our home, won't you please sit down?

Oh!  Yes.  Do you prefer the tea list (categorized by tea type, of course - and level of caffeine) or are you more of a coffee person?  Ah, coffee.  Let me get that started for you.

Problem.

We have no cream.  We have...milk.  You know - real milk.  From a cow.  Like on a farm.  Some people freak out at this.  Um...

So we cross our fingers and hope he'll say he'll take it black.  Or maybe we'll get lucky and he'll say something like "organic cane sugar if you've got any".  Maybe.  Please.

How do you take your coffee, pastor?

Oh. My. Goodness.  Do you know what he said?  (If you guessed "black", you are way wrong-o.)

My poor pastor asked for...he asked for...oh, I can't even SAY it!

Okay, I will.  He asked for...powdered creamer and Splenda!

Now, yes, inwardly, I am this person whose eyes are wide open and I'm freaking out and yelling at myself inwardly - DO NOT WARN HIM HE IS ASKING FOR POISON, DO NOT DO IT.  HE DOES NOT KNOW YOU WELL ENOUGH.  STOP YOURSELF.  REMAIN CALM.  SAY SOMETHING APOLOGETICALLY ABOUT NOT HAVING EITHER.  GO!

"Um, oh man, I'm really sorry.  We don't have any of either of those."

Do you even KNOW what my husband starts doing?  This is pretty much turning into some kind of weird comedy in my head at this point.  My husband OPENS THE TEA CUPBOARD and starts pretending to LOOK FOR powdered creamer.  I say, "Honey, we don't have any."  He is straining his neck to check every place - I'm just looking to make sure, dear, says my darling husband.  Yeah.  Okay.  It's probably right there next to the Doritos, spray cheese and the Jif.  If he could have seen my face (which I am rather sure he avoided at the time on super purpose), he would have seen me giving him a what-the-crap-are-you-thinking look and you-know-that-stuff-is-like-feeding-someone-rat-poison, but he continued to pretend to look for it.  Yes, really.  POWDERED CREAMER.  Which is made of what - crack and GMO corn or something?  With powdered high fructose corn syrup and TBHQ?  Yeah, I'm pretty sure I have a whole stinkin' VAT of that laying around in the back of the cupboard behind the organic lemongrass green tea - maybe you'll get lucky and you'll get into Narnia or something honey and you'll find some there and bring it back without any of us noticing you were gone.

So after what seems like an eternity (maybe he was hoping Peter and Lucy would hand some out to him), he stands up and confesses that he can't find any.

"Well, I'll just take some milk."

Okay.  We have to explain now that we are people who have a cow and get milk from it.  This is going just smashingly.

Okay, um, yes.  About the milk.  We do have that, but I think it right to tell you (as some people feel strongly about this) that our milk comes straight from a cow.  On a farm.  And...it hasn't been boiled or strained, so, uh...

"Oh.  Yes, that's just fine.  We used to live near a farm and we used to have that all the time."

Finally - an itsy splinter of relief in what I was pretty sure may have been the Twilight Zone.

Besides that, the evening went along just fine without a hitch and it was all lovely and sunshine.  And if you see Aslan, Peter or Susan, just let them know that my hubby was looking for them.

Peace, love and just imagine if I would have served the kombucha instead,
Ms. Daisy