Gymnastics – Of Bears and Boating

I learned this week…

…that it is necessary, from a quality control standpoint, to sample all of the treats I bake before giving them out to my friends and family. Unfortunately, my stomach did not get the memo that we would be ingesting such a large amount of sugar and fat. He was not amused.

…that baking and writing don’t mix. The other morning, I packed my daughter off to school, made a mental list of the things I needed to get done and set a short-term goal for myself. I wanted to accomplish at least two things before the sun went down: 1) finish baking cookies and fudge for my coworkers; 2) write between 2,000 and 4,000 words for my novel, Retribution. I arranged a makeshift writing space at the kitchen table with my laptop, steaming cup of coffee, plot diagram, and research notebook – all within easy reach.

(Why is Robert Burns whispering in my ear…again?)

I finished the cookies. I did not, however, write the intended number of words. I eked out a grand total of 157 of them. Disappointing, but I learned a valuable lesson. I can either bake or I can write, but I cannot do both.

…that there is just something about logging onto the college website to find my grades staring back at me, on the homepage. I get all gooey inside from the tremendous sense of accomplishment I feel at successfully completely another semester, with a near perfect GPA intact. Good thing, too. I’m paying a butt load of money, out-of-pocket, for this education; all in the name of “finding myself.” (Cue eye roll from my dear, supportive husband).

…that sitting next to the Christmas tree at my daughter’s gymnastics practice is a bad idea. A very, very bad idea. You would think that I would remember this from years of past experience. After all, we’ve been going to the same sport’s center for the last four years. But alas, no. I am a creature of habit. I have a favorite chair and when it is unoccupied, I will sit there every time, without fail. Unfortunately, during this time of year, the chair sits right next to the Christmas tree. Needless to say, because of my inability to adapt, I spend most of practice shooting the stink eye at small children for nearly toppling the tree, in their attempts to reach the candy canes that are scattered among the branches. The candy canes they are forbidden from touching. I’d love to have a nice long heart to heart with the genius who thought up that decorating idea.

…that the movie Hanna is probably the worst film I have ever seen. I don’t even know where to begin with this one. But considering the fact that I’ve just spent the better part of two hours watching it – two hours of my life I will never get back – I think I will pass on a more detailed review. I’ve wasted enough time on it already. Now I’ve wasted your time by telling you that I’m not going to waste my time. I feel better now. Misery loves company.

…that the mall on the last full shopping weekend before Christmas is a frightening place.

…that Hollister is not a store, it’s my worst nightmare come to life. Before this weekend, I had never stepped foot in that store. I’ve always been put off by the sounds and smells wafting from it’s cloaked interior. However, it is Christmas and there is someone on my list who requested a gift card from this establishment. Upon entering, and after my senses adjusted to the loud music and overwhelming stench of cologne, I was struck by how very dark it was in there. Indeed, so dark that I nearly tripped over several small children and a salesperson. I’m not sure I understand their marketing strategy. How the hell do they expect customers to buy a product they can’t see? Seems pretty fishy to me, like maybe they don’t really want you to know what you’re buying. Or maybe the store is secretly a front for a special black ops division of the CIA. That must be it, and now that I think about it, I’m sure I caught a glimpse of Sydney Bristow, disguised as a college student, just before she slipped into one of the “dressing rooms.”

…last, but not least, this week’s awww moment is brought to you by this touching tribute to the brilliance of Bill Waterson. Enjoy.