As I pull the car into the Starbucks drive-thru, my husband says, "Oh, sorry, I thought you said you wanted coffee."
"Close enough," I tell him, and order a grande coffee with cream. He orders a breakfast sandwich. It's a Saturday morning and our family is headed to the beach for the day, about an hour and a half west of Portland.
That's right: we live in Portland, Oregon, hipster capital of the Pacific Northwest, where you can find some of the best coffee in the country. And yet, sometimes, we go to Starbucks.