Peanut Brittle Hittle

Ingredients

• 1 ultimatum email from the job that “hired” you that never arrives (otherwise known as 1 big "womp")
• 2.5 days of tech
• SHAMELESS PLUG: thememorytax.com GO SEE IT! 



There are arrows for a reason.

• $.... my mind just fell asleep, literally fell asleep, trying to divide 36 by 8, though not applicable to this money problem, as I've now discovered... approx. $2 wasted when you put the coins in and started the dryer for the unit below your clothes. This also requires about 15lbs of damp wrinkly clothes that you lug down the street and up to your 5th floor walkup in a flimsy laundry bag. Because they're wet. Because you didn't dry them. You dried air.
• Bug-ageddon Part Deux
• 1 Hit. Hit: (n) an event, circumstance, or phrase that propels itself at you in a millisecond, aiming to immerse you in a state of clarity-- a mix of acceptance, realism, and a tinge of, dare one say, positivity?; its impact may hurt; bleeding may occur; yet, the bruise is colorful and complex, something you learn from that you're not necessarily happy to show but at least appreciate for being a part of you, always; you're not hitting a wall, no door is closing on your face; it is invisible to any eye but yours and those with who you choose to share its story
  EXAMPLES Its many forms can induce learning that your parents are people, realizing you want to devote your life to making people laugh, or understanding for the first time that you're not a kid anymore; all encompassing, suddenly serious, slightly a downer, but obviously hugely a part of your journey... to... what? Becoming you. 
  DID YOU KNOW? It kind of makes the rest of the stuff you think is annoying-- the driers? your non-existent job?-- seem pretty normal, and unimportant.

Instructions

You know what to do, and only you know what it means for you. Only you know what happened. Stuff (or the other word) just got real for you and sorry that no one isn't sorry. You know how this kind of thing works. So work through it! Like hitting a wall, a hit is over soon-- but it does last within you forever and it won't repeat itself. Probably. BUT!

In the meantime, when you're traveling

Look! It's you on your journey to you!
That's exactly what's it's like, right?!

Your life's journey is just like THEIR
journey to the beach! YEAH! Peaches and cream!

to call your parents to tell them that you understand, or traveling to that comedy-- or hey maybe pottery! etching! bodybuilding!-- studio for the first time, or en route to a donation center to finally give away all your size 6x kids clothes (6x was the best of times, wasn't it?), remember the following story, rinse, and do no repeat:

A young lad(y)-- hello, etymology!-- once woke up, once upon a time, at 3:40am. She clothed, grabbed her Kindle, duffel, & schnitzel, and left her high tower. She hopped on the plebeians' Wagon Line A down to the fancy part of the kingdom, where the castles were. Once she was there, she used her street smarts and dashing good young looks to win a ($$majorly discounted$$) ticket on the magic carpet ride that would take her far, far away to the outskirts of the kingdom. At 5:00am, she presented the magic carpet ride attendant with her (type of discounted) ticket, bought by means of her aforementioned street smarts and miniature stature. [To this day, no one knows exactly what brilliant plan she concocted that used her appearance to get a cheaper carpet ride.] The carpet took off and poof! 30 short minutes later, the lady appeared at the airPortal to the other kingdom. She was worried, as always when approaching the airPortal, that she wouldn't make it in time before her specific portal doors closed forever (or at least that day). After checking her pocket watch  though, she saw that her remaining time wasn't too big, wasn't too small... it was just right! She will totally make it. First, though, she had to pass through the Forest of Security.

The line to pass through wasn't too long, but she worried yet again that she may not make her scheduled journey out. She was, in fact, traveling as a "pass rider"-- standby, as most citizens call it-- so she had to make sure she got to the portal before someone lower in (flying) status took her standby spot. Thankfully, the kind Forest of Security guard, who was dealing with an unruly privileged prince in the line, pointed to the Priority Line-- the line for the royals! He was gesturing for the lady to join the Priority Line to avoid the ruckus in the normal line! The lady was thinking the dames of Fortune were on her side; the wheel was spinning in her favor! Having made it into the Forest, she wanted to get out right away. She took off her shoes, jacket, removed all large devices that actually don't run of candlelight-- and finally, finally was going to get out of the Forest and skip right down the path--the path that read "To All Gates", a sign in which she believed very seriously. But then, out of nowhere, like a bad dream-- or a nightmare!-- the lady remembered something. She felt into her satchel and grasped her hand around what she feared might be in there... pepper spray. 

Oh, no! She's brought pepper spray into the Forest of Security!! Into the airPortal! No one is allowed to use any aerosol products inside any airPortal anywhere! Though the lady hands the inside Forest Guard her pepper spray-- forfeiting, turning herself in, caught red-pepper-handed-- she has to wait for the head commissioner of the Guards, who will tell the Forest Guards what to do with the lady. This was not good! She had the possibility of going in the temporary dungeon! Having to beg to the King for release! She was going to miss her portal out of the kingdom and have to travel all the way back on the magic carpet and the wagon! 

Phew. Thankfully, the wheel was still on the lady's side, and the head commissioner took one look at the lady's young looks and miniature stature-- which the lady, using her street smarts, had tried to exaggerate at the moment-- and let her exit the Forest. The lady is safe. Safe, that is, until she reaches the end of the path that she thought had, indeed, led to all gates. She realizes... she's in the completely wrong airPortal terminal! She barrels through the terminal, past the Forest again-- and the commissioner stops her! Oh, no, she must look suspicious, leaving so quickly! "Am I totally in the wrong place?" the lady asks. "You are totally in the wrong place," the commissioner dryly agrees. The lady has to travel all the way to the other side of the airPortal, but it's now already well passed her boarding time. Finally, after climbing aboard the painstaking, crawling mule tram and running around like a court jester with his head cut off all throughout the airPortal, she makes it to the correct terminal-- but where's the gate?! Mystifyingly, it's underground! Even more mystifyingly, out of breath, she approaches the wizard at the portal's gate who bestows upon her one golden ticket. Because it was a 6:30am trip to a mysterious kingdom known as "The Land of the Cleve", there weren't many passengers on the portalcraft. As the lady settled into her seat in the portal, she realized how lucky she was, and also that she had learned a mind-blowingly important lesson for the first time that had truly never ever dawned on her ever, ever before, not once in her life: 

DON'T BRING PEPPER SPRAY INTO THE AIRPORT! 

The most important morals are taught through fairy tales-- why shouldn't yours, fellow young females in large cities who need at least the idea of protection on their keychain no matter where they if it is even remotely past dusk? Serious recipe for, I don't know, I'd say, catastrophe. Or arrest. 

* If this recipe has been a bit serious, too "real", and or simply not as fruit-filled as usual, please, please do me a solid and go yell at someone on the streets of your own big city for me (who is not in the mood, just this once)-- or at least the largest nearby city of your choice. Better yet, actually, go let off your steam at the people who park and blast music out of their car in front of our building into the wee hours of the morn aka 9:30pm! Pshyeah! Nothing wrong with my bed time, no way!! 

Next week, I will be back with an ultra-salty, buberly bitter, drippingly dry SPECIAL 10th WEEK EDITION. 

YEAH!! Seeing as we apparently make cakes, like, every week on this blog, prepare yourself for something even better, more celebratory, more monumentally delicious. 


** So what did we remember now? Pepper spray. Just don't. Watch what you bring to the airport. But make sure you include your terminal number. 

** You know where you also should not take pepper spray? A government-funded national memorial where you have to pass through security lines to view the government-funded national memorial. Who would've thought? You. Because you have a brain. Put two and two together.