Friday, November 14, 2014

The Library is Where It's At

Is it a bad sign when you come to the library and the same woman with the same sunglasses is sitting at the same computer as the last time you were here? What does this say? And about whom?

I'm at the library because I ain't got no good computer at home, and this kid of mine likes Minecraft too much. Plus I wanted to check in with y'all, see how life is.

A library observation, if I may:

1) This is supposed to be a quiet place. Just like in Ghostbusters, when the ghost lady turns to The Busters and puts her fingers to her lips. SHHHHHHHHHHH. I mean that's, like, a rule.

I am not kidding you when I say that this scene scared the _____ out of me. Seriously.

2) It smells weird. It just does. I think it's a combo of the coffee shop and the kid sitting next to me, earbuds in, playing some sort of colorful game. If he's reading this, then sugar, a shower is a necessary thing. (I just turned my monitor a little just in case.)

And to the left is my enthusiastic Minecraft player, building Super-Charged Fire Arrow Launchers and Classic Jeb Doors and Deluxe Lighting Systems.

Now that other guy's playing some sort of shooting, bloody game.

Geez, Heather, eyes on your own paper.

It's not that I'm so curious about what he's doing, although that mouse over there is going crazy. It's that I'm so completely and utterly distractable. My mind is absolutely going at full capacity, taking every sound, color and noise in, and mine poor eyes just want to see. It all. So all that swirling around in my brain makes for some chaos sometimes, but I've learned to deal with it. Except for today. Because that darn mouse clicking over there has got. To. Stop. I cannot deal. And I'm the creeper because I'm giving that guy the side-eye. What?

I have arrived today in stunning attire. Workout leggings. Black and white leopard-print wooden clogs, with the mary-jane strap, what what. Black long-sleeved cotton (with thumb-holes, should my hands get cold at the library, obvi) workout shirt. Black legwarmers. And white knit hat with two ginormous rhinestone trimmings.  All from my workout this morning. And sans makeup, except for sparkly lipgloss, because this outfit needs no other frippery. Personal style? I've got my finger on that pulse.

My time here is running short, because I have a soiree I am planning this evening, and I baked caramel brownies. Yes. I, Hater Of Sugar, baked caramel brownies. And I ate some. And I liked it. Except that instead of baking the brownies as directed (9x13 pan), I made up my own Mini Caramel Brownies, complete with cute cupcake wrappers. Here's the thing. Caramel is sticky. And it tends to stick to paper. Like really bad. So while my idea was truly grand, and may I say ambitious, it may not have been a well-thought-out idea, which may have been why one (maybe) should just stick with the tried-and-true way of doing things. I always say how are you supposed to know if you don't try? as a way to kind of make my kids feel better when they make a mistake (or me, as in today). Was I supposed to just assume that the caramel would stick to the cupcake wrappers???

Plan A is to stick with the plan and serve my daughter's friends sticky, gooey brownies in cupcake wrappers, pile some ice cream on top and call it a success. Plan B is to go to the store, buy the ingredients again, and make it like it's supposed to be make (glass pan). Plan C is to go to the store and buy a cookie cake. Since Plan C is not my fave (don't like store bought cakes, but you already know this), and Plan B would take waaaaay too much time (that I don't have, I mean, we'd be eating brownies at 9PM. Maybe.), I believe I'll go with Plan D: Go home. Assess. Ask for a willing taste-tester to test said brownies.

I hope the paper doesn't taste too bad topped with caramel, chocolate and lots of vanilla ice cream,

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