I had this great idea to make some buttermilk pancakes for Elsbeth. She always gets short shrift because her birthday is on the 23rd of December and things get pretty hectic around our house that close to Christmas.

So I bought some blueberries and put them in the fridge and told her I would fix her breakfast. I was going to serve her in bed like my friend Ken Sealander has done for 40 years - which is likely a world record in the Guinness book .

First I made the coffee. That is pretty easy. Just fill the glass pot with the numbers on the side up to the six and pour the water in the hole in the top. Then take the glass jar out of the fridge with the coffee in it and take out two big scoops and put them in the thingie that swings out to the side that has a screen on it and then hit the button and it will turn red. When the water gets hot it drips down into the pot and the light turns green when it is ready to drink

Sometimes I get mixed up and put the coffee in the bottom pot but that is easy to fix.

My biggest gripe is the little clear plastic boxes the blueberry packers use. They are so slippery you can't hang on. I reached in the fridge to get a box and the fanged thing slipped right out of my hand and popped open scattering blueberries all over the kitchen floor. Zounds. You can't kneel down or you crush berries into the flooring. They are too expensive to just get a room and sweep them up. so you have to bend over and get them one at a time. I must have bent down a hunnert times.

.I didn't tell Elsbeth of my ordeal but she wanted to know if I washed them off.

"How did you know I spilled the blueberries?"

She said, "I saw a berry over in the corner. You missed it."

"I washed them off," I admitted.

"Okay, nice hotcakes ."

This is the season for disasters,

Last week after battling Christmas crowds we were having a bite to eat at the Safeway deli when neighbor Louise Rice spotted us at a table and came over to drink her latte at our table. She was raving about how good her drink was and insisted on having me try it.

She put it down, went over and got me a cup and handed me her hot espresso to pour myself a couple of gulps.

I never made it. Her cup was hot and slid right through my hand plopping latte onto the table like a grenade . It exploded and swamped the table, my shirt, my pants, her jacket and the floor.

Undaunted she went back and bought a new drink. and poured me a sip herself.

You have no idea how it tests a man's comfort zone when his Dockers are soggy. It makes you pretty crotchety.

Jerry was forced to wash out his own Dockers under a watchful eye for detail. Jerry can be reached at wseditor@robinsonnews.com