Three days ago, while mixing chocolate chip cookie dough before baking it into a large blob I could cut tiny adorable hearts out of, I went to add the egg. I did everything normal, tapping the side of the egg against the flat of the counter just like I’ve done truly thousands of times before. I quickly moved the egg over the bowl and separated the halves to let the *nothing* inside fall into the bowl. Nothing. Nothing? The egg in its floppy, classically eggy entirety was lounging on the countertop. I guess I was just too strong for it? 

After a frozen moment of debating my options, I decided to scoop the egg off the countertop into the bowl I held just below the edge. It worked, the cookies came out fine, all this after Nikolai came rushing downstairs after I shrieked in dismay and followed it with promptly shouted, “EVERYTHING’S FINE.”

As a teenager, I do not believe I ever imagined my late 20s self getting up excited on a Saturday. No less, getting up excited on a Saturday because I would be meeting friends at a farmers’ market before going to Zumba class at my women-only dance studio. 

  1. Wake up at a normal time
  2. Drive an hour to Dad’s
  3. get coffee at favorite coffee shop by his house
  4. Pick up Dad
  5. Get coffee on the way to the airport
  6. Chat nicely on the way
  7. Have an intense discussion about politics
  8. Drop Dad off at departure terminal
  9. Drive safely home
  10. Misread I-84 East as I-84
  11. Head toward the Columbia Gorge
  12. Figure it out
  13. Take the 122nd Ave Exit
  14. Read the sign for how to get back to 84 West
  15. Forget what the sign says immediately
  16. Turn around in the middle of the road (no one was there)
  17. Go past the off ramp
  18. Turn around in a nice little neighborhood
  22. Take the correct turn
  23. make it home

Today at Zumba class I clapped my hands so enthusiastically I burst a blood vessel in my hand. 

You know those days when your in-laws call to pop by and you’re excited to see them and all? But then you realize you need to put on pants and a bra, and resign yourself to the dirty dishes in the kitchen. That was my last ten minutes. 

I have discovered something about myself.  When I am innocently jogging along in the morning darkness and am confronted with something lying on the ground (Say, a twig and leaves felled by the latest storm) that I cannot immediately identify, I will startle/jump/skitter sideways. In truth, it looks a lot like these cats.

While driving home from my friend’s house at 10:30 on a Sunday evening, driving through town and grooving along to whatever hip hop music was playing, I was startled to find my face rather hurt. Upon further reflection, I had not been dancing along with my whole self, I had only been dancing with my eyebrows.  It was majestic.  Ask me the next time I see you.


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