And here I thought I was on the cutting edge of culinary exploration with the graham crackers and Duncan Hines frosting. So much for my plans to write a bestselling cookbook detailing all the ways the graham can be used as a dessert item. Everyone already knows. I guess I’ll have to resort to Plan B and do something totally unique like maybe design a type of disposable towel made out of paper that can be used in your kitchen.
I’m not sure what I’ve done this week, but I’m positive that it hasn’t been anything very exciting because I’m sitting here for the second day in a row trying to figure out what on earth to write about. Too bad I don’t have a picture of some crackers with some cheese so I could tell you about the great new snack I just discovered.
Instead I will just continue to compose the most boring sequence of paragraphs in the free world.
Most of Monday was spent chauffeuring (it just took me about nine tries to spell that word) P around because he had to put his truck in the shop. We enjoy putting the truck in the shop on a regular basis since there’s really no other way we like to spend money than to fix transmissions and wonky front end alignment. It’s so much better than a new pair of shoes or a cute top.
After we dropped the truck off, we decided to go eat some breakfast. P took me to a little place on the edge of downtown where bars on the windows indicated that there were most likely some excellent huevos rancheros with homemade tortillas in our future and possibly being witnesses to a homicide. I like my eggs with a side of danger. And a spicy ranchero sauce.
On Tuesday…look, I’ll be honest with you, I have no idea what we did on Tuesday. I’m sitting here racking my brain trying to remember. Oh, it just came to me because I remember the great pajama debate of 2010. It was National Reading Day and Caroline was supposed to wear pajamas to school and bring some books, a blanket and a breakfast item to share with the class. (Actually I don’t know if it was a national thing or not. I think that’s what the note said, but it may have just been a State Reading Day or Caroline’s Classroom Reading Day. Or maybe I was wrong about the whole thing and sent my child to school in her pajamas for no reason.)
I’d already told her that I’d eat lunch with her on Tuesday, so I showed up at 10:40 (I still can’t get over the late morning lunch time) with a Wacky Pack from Sonic and some mozzarella cheese sticks. It was totally worth the trip because she took one bite of the burger and ate half a french fry. I did manage to find out from the lunch table conversation that all her friends think some boy named Cal is cute. They pointed him out to me, but I didn’t really see what was so appealing about someone who’s barely four feet tall and gnaws on his peanut butter and jelly sandwich with the four teeth he has left in his mouth.
Yesterday morning I had Bible study and then had to make a trip to the grocery store because we were completely out of graham crackers and canned frosting which placed us smack dab in the territory of dire straits. We got our money for nothing and our chicks for free. (I’m sorry. Dire straits took me there.)
By the time I unloaded the groceries and made enough room in the refrigerator for all the Jello Pudding Snacks, it was about time to go pick up Caroline from school. I’d promised her that I’d take her to get a pedicure because she received an award at school for academic excellence and nothing says keep up the hard work like a fresh pedi with some sassy flowers painted on your big toe.
And while we were there, I decided I should probably go ahead and get a pedicure for myself. I mean, I’m the one who has accumulated several or a hundred more gray hairs throughout this school year from the homework alone. Because why does a person insist on drawing nine apples on the ground when the instructions clearly state that you’re supposed to draw some of the apples on the tree and some of the apples on the ground to make a total of nine apples?
“But I don’t want any apples on the tree. I like them on the ground.”
“That’s fine, but the instructions specifically state that SOME need to be on the ground and SOME need to be on the tree.”
“I don’t like them on the tree.”
“Well, then you’re not going to like second grade because in second grade it becomes REALLY IMPORTANT that you follow all the instructions.”
(I don’t even know if that’s true. Second grade could be a complete mutiny of all societal rules for all I know. It’s been thirty-one years since I’ve had any second grade experience.)
“Okay. I’ll draw some on the tree even though I DON’T WANT TO.”
And that is why I felt that I deserved a fresh coat of OPI’s Ladies and Magenta-men on my toes.
I promise I didn’t just pick that color because I adore the name.
And, lastly, since I’ve already gone on way too long and may as well share the last detail of our uneventful week, I officially broke out the self-tanner this week. I’m invited to a luncheon/fashion show tomorrow and there’s a ninety percent chance that I’m wearing a sleeveless dress. (I’m hanging on to the 10% chance that something else will magically appear in my closet.) My arms are frighteningly pale and it just didn’t seem right to subject the public to such a spectacle.
Speaking of, I need to wrap this up and go pluck my eyebrows. I’d hate for someone to be distracted from all the beautiful clothes because the girl sitting across from them has a unibrow.