There are few things I wouldn't do for the possibility of a good soft, chewy, moist cookie landing anywhere in the vicinity of my mouth. Speaking of, have you seen the cookies Dunkin Donuts sells now? They were great before, but now, they are gifts from heaven. They increased in both size and price but well worth it. And the peanut butter cup . . . ohhhh myyyyy goddddd.
Sometime between pulling clothes out of the hamper and smelling to see which were the freshest to wear and Saturday, I became an adult about to become a
Stew's footloose and carefree friends were miles away in Rhode Island drunk off their asses after a day sampling beers at Beer Fest. See, Stew and his friends go to beer fest every year. In fact, before we were engaged one of his friends told me that I would always be cool in their eyes as long as I always let Stew do two things - play poker once a week and go to beer fest. I had every intention of doing both but unfortunately for Stew, we were invited to a wedding the same day as beer fest this year. Breaking the news to Stew was awful. I knew it would crush him not being able to go and I knew it would cause a few arguments along the way. Sure I could have gone to the wedding alone but everybody knows that isn't much fun. Plus, it was the sister of an old friend of mine whose family I have known forever. How weird would it be when her mom congratulated me on getting engaged and I had no fiancee to show her?
"Beer Fest was like a holiday. Think of it like Christmas" Stew said to me one Wednesday night after he'd come home from poker where his friends gave him a hard time about not being able to go. Like that was going to make me thrilled about him playing poker once a week now that I had to debate beer fest vs. wedding every Wednesday night from September to mid- November?
A holiday. Beer fest is a holiday. Who knew? The subject would come up at least once a week or any other time Beer Fest was mentioned in my presence. We debated for the sake of both of trying to feel better. He would feel a small victory knowing he at least tried and I would feel guilty like the big bad wolf ball and chain when l said I'd rather he come to the wedding with me and again, he'd taste victory in my guilt and shame. It was a lose-lose situation for both of us because the lines of responsibility and settling down were clearly drawn.
The text messages detailing the drunken debauchery of the crew who went to beer fest started around 9 p.m. and went until midnight, when I assume they all passed out. Poor Stew doesn't have a text plan so he was getting slammed with charges. I was curious enough to ask how the guys were holding up but really enjoying my carrot cake.
He held his phone over for me to see that one of his friends is asking for our address because he and his wife are hosting a party of some sort. I'm assuming, because physical addresses were requested and not email addresses, we were getting an tangible invite on real paper and not an E-vite. This meant that the party had a purpose and was more than likely a dinner party. A dinner party. With real invitations. Wow, I was so grown up. I guess that meant I also had to bring something.
It only took a second to feel older than my 33 years.
"When is it?" I asked Stew between bites of cake and bopping to Justin Timberlake's "Sexy Back."
That's when it happened.
"Oh," I said flipping trying to flip forward on my mental calendar. "That is the day I have your cousin's cookie swap."
And we both froze and stared at each other. Then at the bride and groom, our cake and back to each other, the color still drained from our faces.
"Well, I guess I'll bring dessert."