Witness the case of the Cuisinart. With great anticipation, I purchased the Pro Classic food processor last July. Unfortunately there was a learning curve that prevented last minute meal prep help, so it just sat on my kitchen counter, waiting.

It remains untested, but not for lack of trying.

The first time the machine and I met on the field of battle, I admit to being unprepared. Still… you’d think I could do something as simple as put the bowl on properly, right? No, after a prolonged struggle I needed hubby to tell me -after a 5 second glance- how it worked. Humiliation abounded.

Our second encounter occurred last night. I had some time and needed a slew of potatoes sliced. Should have known there would be trouble when my gaze landed on the damnable machination, sitting so white and clean. Untouched. Nothing that pure and shiny could come to any good in my kitchen.

This time it took about thirty minutes of playing before I finally gave up and sliced the taters myself. They’d been in the oven for an hour when hubby returned home from work, but I knew I had to ask him about it… and when he pinpointed the problem in a few moments, I felt that all too familiar mortification. He has the gene… that man can fix anything, solve any problem. Fortunately he never makes fun of my gross incompetence.

Putting whipped topping on my serving of humble pie, I remembered reading in the manual that larger veggies would have to go in ‘backwards’.

If I hadn’t paid a hundred dollars for that thing I’d take it out into the Everglades and use it for target practice. If I could remember how to use my gun.