I’m not like a normal 20 year old.
Sometimes I’m like a 40 year old.
Sometimes I’m like a 5 year old.
For me, There is little in between. It’s ok, I’ve come to terms with myself. Why, you ask, do you consider yourself a 40 year old?
“Hey Britt, wanna grab a pitcher at Boston Pizza?”
– “Hmm, what would you say about a small glass of wine along side an avocado citrus salad chez moi?”
“Hey Britt, it’s late, want to go in on a order of Chinese food with us?”
– “Oh, Chinese food, that’s okaaay, I prepared a stockpile of cooked quinoa at the beginning of the week and had planned to grill some vegetables and tofu alongside, also I am afraid of Mono-Sodium Glutemate”
“Hey Britt, let’s sleep in and grab brunch at eleven!”
– “That sounds really awesome! But I’ll be up at eight regardless and have eaten my bowl of oats… and be in the middle of taking a five year old for a bike ride at that time.”
“Hey Britt, what are you doing at lunch tomorrow… Burritos?!”
– “Ah, I’m so sorry, but I’ll be eating lunch with all of the montessori parents in the park; watching the children frolic.”
“Hey Britt, want this can of coke?”
– “No, sorry, I’m concerned for my cardiovascular health and bone density. Also the bysphenol-A that lines that can is carcinogenic and will likely cause hormone disruptions, leading to my future infertility.”
And why a 5 year old?
“Hey Britt, want a cup of coffee?”
– “No. Coffee tastes like bum.”
“Hey Britt, want to go get ridiculously intoxicated this evening?”
– “Ummmm, I was thinking Disney movies in my bedroom and chocolate chip cookes? Bed by 8?”
“Britt, do you know where this random squishy ball with tentacles came from?”
– “No, I certainly didn’t throw it at you from my cubicle.”
“Brittany, let M get to the car first. If you don’t he will cry.”
– “M needs to learn that he cannot always win… and that his sister can.”
“Hey Britt, could you give me some advice?”
– “Yes. Do not, at any cost, attempt to attach your employee ID tag to your left nostril when you think nobody is loooking. You will regret it.”
“Ok so, I know you’re spending lunch in the park with the montessori children tomorrow, but how about I meet you there and we can chill.”
– “No.. see I’ll be playing freeze tag with M and his four girlfriends. No I won’t let them catch me just because they’re 5, I have pride.”
Yes, I have an internal age gap. However, whether I’m the age of a child or their parent… I’m always at helicopter park at lunch. With my people.
I spend so much time with the montessori borealis preschool at lunch, that they deemed me an honorary student/teacher and invited me to their year end bbq. It’s obviously not because M goes to school there. And it couldn’t be because I worked as a Summer Program Coordinator a couple of years back. I’m just one of them.
I hang out with Erin every day at lunch. She’s an adult. And a teacher. Apparently She’s a really good teacher. Who knew.
All I will tell you about Erin is that her daughter, Iz, is in love with my brother.
This was evident at the BBQ. There was chasing. And inappropriate marriage references (though I’m told she has this plan in order to legitimize her claims to be my sister), as well as a reference to M’s room as “Their” room. One day she’ll realize that I’m not that cool.. hopefully this doesn’t result in their divorce.
In addition to the underage fraternization, there was also food.
Mother and I HAD to contribute. She was tempted to buy something. Do you think I allowed her to?
If my name could be in any way connected to something, directly or indirectly, it has to have been crafted, with love, from our kitchen.
Timing was tight. We went with a standby, failsafe foodgasm. Our best chocolate chip cookie recipe to date.
Coworkers showing up in an hour for an at-home meeting? Chocolate Chip Cookies.
Men somewhere sometime? Chocolate Chip Cookies.
Children and parents at a BBQ? Chocolate Chip Cookies.
These cookies are famous. New York Times Famous. They seem all tricky when the Times write about them because they TRY to make you refrigerate the dough overnight. HA. They tell you you have to.
You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to do. So just don’t.
Make them and bake them right away you rebel. They will still be better than any other chocolate chip cookie you’ve tried.
Perfectly chewy throughout the middle, with way more chocolate than you think you should put in, but do it anyway. Just firm anough around the edges, with complex, vanilla-y flavour. Not boring, crunchy, puffy, dry, or cakey. Good.
Ultimate Chocolate Chip Cookies
from the New York Times via How Sweet It Is
- 2 cups minus 2 tablespoons cake flour
- 1 2/3 cups bread flour
- 1 1/4 teaspoons baking soda
- 1 1/2 teaspoons baking powder
- 1 1/2 teaspoons coarse salt
- 2 1/2 sticks (1 1/4 cups) unsalted butter
- 1 1/4 cups light brown sugar
- 1 cup plus 2 tablespoons granulated sugar
- 2 large organic eggs
- 2 teaspoons vanilla extract
- 1 1/4 pounds chocolate chips
I stole three cookies and put them in a container before they had all been eaten at the BBQ. In Sparks I promised to “share and be a friend”, but not always.
Iz jumped into our slow grey minivan post-BBQ, and would not be moved. She came home with us.
Update: Today, witnesses say that an illegal kiss was shared in the classroom. When I say shared I mean M was (quite willingly) cornered. Yay for sisters not having any direct child-rearing responsibility!