Long ago, on the day I created my Twitter account, I thought it would be a good idea to have certain people’s tweets sent to my phone in the form of text messages. These people included Andrew, my friend Liz and Taylor Swift.
Taylor Swift and Andrew’s tweets still entertain me. Taylor tweets every few days, and Andrew tweets once a year. Liz, however, has recently decided to update her Twitter every ten minutes.
I awoke this morning when my alarm went off at 8:30, and I saw that I had five text messages. Essentially, they looked like this:
LizardP: HARRY POTTER IS HERE!!!! I AM EXCITED AND SAD BUT MOSTLY EXCITED!!!
LizardP: HARRY POTTER WAS SO GOOD!!!! I CAN’T BELIEVE IT’S OVER!!!!
LizardP: NOW I GET TO DRIVE BACK TO NOLA AT 8 BUT IT’S OKAY BC I’M IN A HARRY POTTER HIGH!!!
LizardP: EXHAUSTED AND ONLY TWENTY MINUTES INTO MY DAY!! BUT HP WITH FRIENDS WAS SO WORTH IT!!! LOVING MY LIFE RIGHT NOW!!!
I’ll admit, I used my poetic license to write the last two in all caps, even though Liz, by that point, had figured out how to turn Caps Lock off on her phone.
Now, some of you mathematicians out there may have realized I said I had five text messages and then I only showed you four. The other text was an email, sent to my phone. Subject: “Fruit salad and sliced turkey in the fridge.” From Dad, sent to my three other siblings and myself. I seriously doubt my 16-year-old brothers checked their email this morning before rummaging around our pantry and fridge and finding such snacks themselves. But I appreciated the heads up, Dad. Please continue to email me when new food appears in our house.
Last night, before the appearance of fruit salad and turkey, I browsed around our food supply for a snack. Hoping for something sweet (surprise, surprise), I found nothing but chips, pistachios, crackers and other salty things. So, I decided, for the first time ever, to make cookies.
Yes, you heard me correctly. I’ve never made cookies before. Well, never successfully. I tried once, and I did something wrong. … I put them on the wrong shelf in the oven, and I also clicked “broil” by mistake. So, basically, I’ve never made edible cookies.
Also, I’m more of an ice cream person. Ice cream only requires a trip to the store, forgoing the preheated ovens and raw eggs.
I took the bag of cookie dough powder out of the pantry and forced 16-year-old Trevor to come help me. Of course, he rolled his eyes and expressed disbelief at my needing his help to make cookies.
I’m sure I could have figured it out on my own. (I’m really good at reading directions, as you may recall from my microwavable pizza incident.) But I still wanted Trevor’s supervision and moral support.
So Trevor preheated the oven for me and then watched me carefully. My only mistakes, according to Trevor, were making the cookies too big and not putting them in perfectly straight lines. Compared to my last attempt, I’d say I earned an A++.
We picked Kenzie up from the airport early yesterday morning. She brought us Parmesan cheese straight from Italy. So, we had that for dinner, with a little bit of spaghetti and red gravy on the side.
I’ll probably have the same thing for lunch, right about now.
Ciao,
Sam
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