Today, I had an awesome shift at the coffeehouse where I work: 7 a.m. – 10 a.m. That’s right. Three hours, in the morning, so when I got off I had all day to do … stuff!
This would be possible because the manager was scheduled to come in at 9. Well, we knew that wouldn’t happen; he’s always late. However, quarter to ten rolls around and he’s still not there. Then 10… then 10:30… still no manager. I was an unhappy person! Not because I had to work more than three hours, but because my replacement, who is also a manager, was almost two hours late. You just don’t do that to your employees.
I was ready to chew nails. And stab the manager with a fork. Or just walk out, leaving the one other employee there alone… but even angry, I couldn’t do that to her.
Then, redemption came in the form of a caramel vanilla latte. It can also be known as a caramel macchiatto, but technically the macchiatto doesn’t come with caramel syrup inside the drink, just drizzled on the top of the whipped cream. Which is beside the point.
The point is, that lovely caramel vanilla latte totally changed my outlook on life. I was ready to forgive Ken (even going so far as to smile at him), ready to face people cutting in front of me at the bank and at K-Mart, ready to face insane South Carolina drivers–and face it all happily.
Caramel vanilla lattes (well, really any flavored lattes) are gifts from God. Cherish them, my children. Go forth, and get your own lattes. Spread the happiness.
Steve and I make a sorry pair.
No, not like that.
Yesterday, he threw his back out, so he was worthless. And I had an almost-migraine, so I was also pretty worthless. Almost the entire day consisted of us trying not to complain too loudly.
Guess what else happened?
I found out I’m gonna be an aunt! My brother and his wife just found out they’re pregnant!
This weekend, I spent a very relaxing and insightful weekend at my in-laws’. Pretty much, I ate, slept, and read. It was absolutely delightful.
However, during the course of my stay, I had to be introduced to a “Southern thing”–Georgia’s equivalent of the Yankees’ pure maple syrup. It is called “Cane syrup.” As in sugar cane. Sounds delicious, really. How could something that came from sugar cane taste bad? However, after one sniff, I was dubious about putting it on my perfectly good waffle.
I thought it smelled like Steve’s gym socks. Steve said it smelled like the devil.
Nevertheless, we tried it.
It didn’t taste any better than it smelled.
I also learned that, if you use garlic-flavored crackers instead of Saltines in squash, it does in fact taste differently, so you shouldn’t joke about your mother-in-law’s dire predictions of how bad it might taste, cause she might be right, and you may look like an idiot.
On the trip back home, I learned the most important of my lessons: America’s health craze has literally turned into a “craze.” I saw on the side of the road one of those sinfully tempting Baskin Robbins / Dunkin Donuts stores merged into a delightful whole. Their marquis declared: “Try our new healthy items!”
Healthy items. At a Baskin-Robbins-Dunkin-Donuts. At a sugary-milkfat-deep-fried-dough store. That, my friends, is crazy.