I'm a little addicted to Denver. And scavenging.
But guess what we found sitting right on top of a trashcan while walking to my house?!
A GIANT MUFFIN TIN!! With 12 spots! We're going to make tarts!!
Tart as in delicious pastry, not derogatory term for promiscuous female used in kids' shows because they don't know what it means.
Gosh, you guys, I can hear your scoffing and twisting up your face already. Don't worry, my mom put it in the super steamy dishwasher, so it is completely germ free.
We ate very well yesterday; my mom picked up some delicious pastrami from Marczyk's and made us mustard sandwiches in the panini maker to partially satisfy Bryn's craving. We just need to make one with yellow mustard now.
6 hours of homework later (did you hear that David?) and 4 hours of smelling the delicious dinner that was cooking, we sent Bryn home on the bus with a CHICKEN TACO and a tin cup of delicious. My mom slow cooked the chicken in the oven full of taco-y smells (not the fake ones either) and shredded it up. We poked at it pretty frequently throughout its cooking life, snarfing it up with that flourless chocolate cake and Girl Scout Cookies. Actually I did that. Bryn was more refined.
Note on Girl Scouts: using young children with cute little voices and big eyes to sell stuff for a big corporation. Think about that. And how many lives Girl Scouts has changed. Maybe it balances out.
I caught the 6:53 bus home in the morning. That means I got up at six, ran around trying to find the clothes I wore yesterday and the pink sweater my mom entrusted to me (Mom I cant find it will you look for it please?) and aggressively put some jam on toast, raided the fridge, and ran out the door.
It was all foggy and mysterious outside like the last day of our trip to Italy in Milan, and as I swallowed the toast and a honey crisp apple, I decided that I am happy here. Mostly. I'm feeling nostalgic about the Ben and Jerry's festival in Waterbury, some other festival I can't remember, Bread and Puppet, The Alchemist, American Flatbread, and hitting B&J, Burton, and Lake Champlain in a 6 mile hike in one night looking for good dumpster artifacts.
At the bus stop I dropped a piece of cake on the ground, hoping no one noticed that I ate it anyway (stop doing that with your face I don't get sick EVER because of such habits) and read about the lovely brick buildings on Market Street. Then the bus took MORE THAN AN HOUR to get back to Boulder and I walked into recitation 30 minutes late. Score.
The best part? Eating a chicken taco and blogging in International Affairs Lecture, because it's on FDI which I just wrote a paper about on the bus. I should switch majors pronto.
The weird thing about tacos is that stuff falls out a lot, they can get soggy, and I don't like biting off the top because it's just bread. It reminded me of a product that my friend Maria and I designed last year in Econ called Tongajack. It was a cheese pocket that you could put all your sandwich ingredients in and melt together so nothing fell out and you got a delicious cheesy snack. It didn't take well because Duncan kept calling it a cheese bag and no one really got where we were coming from. Our commercial, starring Keenan, Xavier, and Ana at our elite senior campout didn't catch either. We played that Major Lazer song while Xavier fed Ana a hot dog bun. Keenan was sad because he couldn't get any ladies without a Tongajack. I would do anything to find that video.
I think this is the song, but I'm not sure since I'm in lecture and I can't check.