it's really mostly about bake sales

This blog is going to just turn into a daily dump of random thoughts until Blogtober is over.

More randomness.

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I am in the midst of baking cookies, not for my children's lunches, but for the cookie sale in support of Unicef. You can rest assured that my cookies have no nuts in them. Or cat hair.

Have I ever gone on about bake sales? Maybe? Well here it is again. Tiffany does not like bake sales. Whenever I think of bake sales, I think of the Austin town-wide garage sale day, and going from garage to garage glancing over everyone's junk (I never really browse, couldn't be bothered) and inevitably coming across the . . . gag . . . baked goods table. Nothing says sudden onset nausea like the giant table laden with weird little squares, melting in the sun, cling wrap stretched tight and glistening over top of the disintegrating confection inside. It makes me want to puke (I know, you shouldn't say puke on the internet). Whoever thought that was a good idea? Seriously? It's one thing when your own grandma (who is an awesome baker, btw) comes out from her kitchen with a tupperware container full of butter tarts to share. It's another thing to watch the flies crawl around someone's bake sale table. Where some stranger has put an assortment of "goodies" that are probably the result of cleaning out the last of the Christmas crap from the freezer.

Exhale.

There was one year where Steven and the kids saw an ad for a "Cookie Walk" here in town. Of course it was a good idea to go. Shudder. I had seen the ad too, but I'm happy to look the other way.

We went to the cookie walk. Rows of tables were set up in a hall (at least it wasn't in the sun outside for three hours) and you took a little container, and for $5 you could fill your container with whichever cookies you wanted. You know, with your hands. And the hands of everyone that went through the line before you. I'm sure in theory there were tongs, but this is just how I remember it so just bear with me. We get home. I eat a cookie.

Firstly, ever eat the cookies of the extremely elderly? It's all artificial sweetener. Nothing is sweet enough. And when I don't actually know the people who bake the stuff it's just kind of hard to enjoy. Unless you (and by "you" I mean "someone I know because then cookies are awesome!") bring over a container and say "Hey, want a cookie?" and of course I do, because I could eat cookies all dang day, I can't enjoy them to the fullest.

Right, so we get home with this giant sack of aspartame and with every bite my internal monologue is saying "That was a cat hair" "That was probably a head hair" "Was that a fingernail?"

It's just really not worth the trip. And then the kids munch through them until they get bored or nauseous or whatever, and I throw the rest out.

I could have just given their organization the $5.

Right. Bake sale. My cookies are awesome. I swear there are no fingernails, and that at some point during/before/after the cookie-baking process I likely washed my hands.

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I wish the school would just go peanut free. We are supposed to indicate on the cookie bag whether the cookies are peanut free or not.

The school's policy is that if a kid in a class has a peanut allergy, THAT classroom is peanut free. My son's class, across the hall, that manhandles the same water fountain as a kid with a life-threatening allergy uses, is not peanut free. Pretty awesome eh?

I'm sure it's because "those" parents who think allergies are all in one's head would be offended if Jimmy couldn't take a sack of peanuts to school.

Seriously. Just ditch the peanuts. It's lame.

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There was so much more.

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I'm not even kidding.

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I'll likely be back later.

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It's later!

Our hot water tank is shot. Fantastic. I totally wanted to have to buy one of those right now. Also awesome is the cold shower I took this afternoon. Nothing says Hallelujah better than being even colder than I already am.

Happily, Steven brought a new one home from work on his lunch break and plans to install it tonight. Yay!

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Earlier today I was going to drive back to the school. Elliot got into van and stood there, giving Mitchie a snotty look over her shoulder and said "I'm not moving." I said "Come on Ellie," and went to nudge her by putting my hand on her lower back and pushing her into the van. She fell, splayed out all over. May have bumped her face on the arm rest on the way down. Then she squirmed onto her back from where she was laying and glowered at me, while simultaneously trying to look absolutely hurt and mortified that I would just heave her into the van so unceremoniously. I swear she fell on purpose just to make me feel bad. Kids are like that.

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Not much else, lucky for you.

Happy Tuesday.

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