Dim Sum Diaries
"How was ballet class last night?" Hubby asked me.

"It was crunchy," I reply.

Apparently I misjudged the ages of my fellow dancers (I don’t know why I’m so obsessed with age). They actually are in their late '20's and beyond. You can tell because when we all did grande plies, everyone's bending knees made crunchy, crackly noises. Whilst completing multiple repetitions of plies, we had had nice, crunchy backbeat accompanying the classical music.

I had a chance to chat a bit with one of the dancers last night.

"So, are you in college?" I query.

"I wish! No, actually, I'm a zookeeper," she replied.

"Wow," was all I could say. Visions of a noble occupation that entailed saving an endangered species and wearing cool khaki outfits came to my mind.

"Actually, a lot of it is sweaty, dirty work," she said. "One of the worse things is cleaning up elephant shit. The group of elephants at the zoo generates 900 lbs of shit a day. And I get to clean it up using a shovel and wheelbarrow."

"Oh," I said. My splendid vision quickly dissipated.

After class, I drove to the local Walmart. I was in a desperate search for cookies that looked authentically homemade. Today is my kid's Pre-K graduation, and the parents were instructed to bring 48 "homemade cookies" for the graduation party. When in the hell am I going to find time to play Martha Stewart? Screw that, I thought to myself. I grabbed some patriotic looking cookies and a lavender tray (they may be store bought, but they sure as hell are going to look good). I plan to sprinkle a little bit of flour on each cookie for that "just baked" look.

So that's what I have to do when I get home. Iron daughter's graduation cape. Deceive parents and teachers of daughter's preschool because Mommy is too tired to bake some frigging homemade cookies. Make sure two-year old terror of a son hasn't burned house down by playing with the lamp when he supposed to be napping (don't ask, it’s a long story).