Last night was altogether one of the most stressful nights of my life.
I had planned a surprise party for one of my dear friends who will be turning 19 the day after Thanksgiving. I thought he should get to have a fun party since most of us will be out of town on his actual birthday.
I told a pretty huge lie to get him to hang out with me Saturday night. That was the first drop in the bucket of stress, because I don’t like lying to my friends. I told my friend that we were going to an art gallery opening at a hipster theater where my cousin’s band was playing.
Apparently the lie was pretty solid, though, because he claimed to be really looking forward to it. Oops.
Yesterday afternoon, hours before the party, I was busy putting together a cake. Only, it wasn’t just a cake. It was the best cake of ever. A chocolate chip cookie cookie dough cake. Oh, yes.
So, I had just finished icing the first layer and I needed to move it to my cake carrier. My sister and I both had a spatula under the cake and on the count of three, we lifted.
If cakes were not soft, fluffy clouds of deliciousness, there would have been a resounding crack as both sides broke away and fell to the counter.
I absolutely lost it. I had already spent 2 hours working on my masterpiece and now it was in shambles. In fact, it looked a little like this…
Cookie Cake Truffle, huh? Well, after another trip to the grocery store and several more hours, I finally made the cake look presentable. And I still had 15 more minutes until I had to leave!
The next step was getting to the restaurant, dropping off the cake with my friends, getting us a table, and then going to pick up our lucky victim from his dorm. Everything went smoothly until that last step. I was on my way to go pick up my friend, going down a busy street, being the good driver that I am (I brag often about the fact that I’ve been driving almost four years and never once had a wreck or been given a ticket). Well, halfway there, I noticed out of the corner of my eye that I was next to a State Trooper car. I checked my speed and I was going 41 but it was a 40 mile per hour zone. I tapped my brake until I was at 38.
Unfortunately, the cop did the same thing.
So, I sped back up to 40 and he pulled into the lane behind me. Oh, no, not tonight, please not tonight, of all the nights in the world. My begging was to no avail. The blue lights went on, the siren began to scream. Shaking like a leaf, I pulled over, absolutely terrified. I had no idea why he would be stopping me, I hadn’t done anything to my knowledge. I rolled down my window as he sidled up to the passenger’s side of the car. Leaning down, he looked at me hard.
“Ma’am, is this your vehicle?”
“Yes!” I squeaked, “Well, it’s my sister’s. But it’s on our parents’ insurance. It’s ours!”
“Well, you ain’t got your headlights on!”
…What. My heart stopped and my face became very warm.
“Oh. You’re right. They’re not.”
“Haven’t you been wondering why all these cars been skiddin’ around you? You got your day time running lights on but you ain’t got your headlights on!”
“Thank you so much, Officer,” I said mechanically, relief flooding through every vein in my body.
“You be safe, now! Keep your seat belt on and don’t go get drunk and drive! Have a nice night!”
I waited until he had gone and then I drove at a steady pace of 25 miles per hour all the way to my friend’s dorm.
Now comes the good part. I told my friend when he got in the car that I had to stop at Chuy’s (conveniently his favorite restaurant) to pick up chips and dip to take to the gallery opening. We got to the restaurant and before we walked in the front door, I turned to him.
“Look, you’re going to have to trust me for like, one minute, okay? Just don’t say anything. What I’m about to do is going to make you really uncomfortable” He started to say something but I ignored him, put my hand over his eyes, and began to lead him blindly to our table.
Yes, I was wearing heels, I really am just that short. When we got to the table, I pulled my hand away and…
The best part was that he had no idea. It was just lovely. We ate Tex-Mex, took pictures, and it was an all around happy occasion.
Until the next time!
(PS – the pictures from the actual party are thanks to my friend Matthew. I have stolen them from him unashamedly. Love you, Moon Pie.)