My cousin Amber sent me an awesome Halloween care package: a spooky apron (which she sewed herself) and all the supplies to make harvest cupcakes with the Cookie Club kids. Since I hadn't had the kids over in forever (and was feeling quite guilty about that), this was the perfect opportunity! We had fun!
Thanks, Amber, for being the best cousin ever.
As a random side note, I decided that I am officially the dorkiest woman alive (or at least the teenage boys in my neighborhood think so). We live in a borderline "rough" neighborhood with lots of young, aspiring thugs. What I mean by "aspiring" thugs is that they are all really nice kids, but they are trying to dress and act like homies. Our sixteen year old neighbor Preston, for example, acts so tough around his friends, but he has been known to come over for Cookie Club and put on a girly apron to help.
Yesterday morning, I ran over to his house to invite his younger siblings to join us for baking. Preston answered the door wearing baggy jeans, puffed out boxers, and a skull cap. He immediately looked a little embarrassed to see me in my candy corn pj pants. I soon found out why: All of his friends were over playing video games.
"Hi, guys!" I said to the room full of big, gangsta-looking teens.
They only grunted in return.
After inviting the little kids, I said to the video gamers, "If you guys get sick of that game, you can come bake cupcakes with us." Apparently they didn't pick up on the sarcasm in my voice. They just stared at me.
Wow. I am a loser.
So, anyway, later that day, I came jogging up the street at the end of my run, and the same group of guys was playing football. It was lightly raining, and I looked like a drowned rat. My glasses were all fogged up and smeary; I was wearing my infamous, matching "track suit" (which is a little short and small these days); and I run like a duck, which certainly doesn't add to my "coolness factor." As I approached them, the ball was fumbled and came to a rest at my feet. So, I picked it up and tried to throw it back to them. It fell to the ground about five feet short of my target. And keep in mind that the target was only ten feet away from me to begin with.
Wow. Such a loser.
"Did you guys get your cupcakes?" I asked, referring to the plate I had sent home with the little kids.
"Yeah," one of them said and, without another word, continued playing.
I guess they don't want to be seen with me. I can't imagine why. :)