Rom-Com? No, how about Awk-Com? With banana bread.
I think not.
With a side of Banana Bread.
So, sometimes, my life is definitely an awkward comedy. An awkward comedy where, at least, I get to bake some tasty food in the end.
Exhibit awkward comedy:
The time: Saturday, 9:30 am
The location: The Apartment Complex Parking Garage Elevator Room
Girl (ME!) loads a small apartment shopping cart with bags from “Trader Joes.” Her car door is open and Kenny Chesney can be heard playing loudly from inside. Her hair is pulled back and the shorter strands in front are all askew and flying in every direction–like a crazy science professor. She is not wearing any make-up and is clothed in slightly raggedy (ie: well loved) yoga apparel. She is running around like a crazy woman–hurrying to get her grocery bags into the cart. Under her breath, she hums along to the country tune on the radio.
Girl loads the last bag as Boy a tall, athletic, good-looking late twenties boy walks into the elevator area. He walks over towards the mailboxes, verrrrrrryyyyyy slowly.
Girl: (singing under her breath) She thinks my tractor’s sexy….lalalalalalalalalalaa.
Girl turns to walk back to her car–nearly colliding with Boy.
Girl: Oops…. Sorry!!
Boy shrugs, as if to say, “no big deal.” Boy continues to look at Girl while walking over to mailbox.
Girl rushes to her car, turns her flashers on, turns the car and music off. She closes the door, grabs her keys, wallet, phone, and a huge container of toilet paper.
She helplessly surveys the over-flowing cart. Where will the toilet paper go?!? She stares. WHY did she get so much toilet paper? Sure, it’s good to stock up. But….WHERE WILL IT GO!?!
Boy finally makes it to mail-boxes, even though it’s only a few feet away. He looks back to see GIRL struggling to balance the tp package on the itsy bitsy apartment shopping cart. He chuckles.
Girl manages to ever so carefully balance the tp on top of her grocery bags. It wobbles, slides slightly, but stays in place–half in, half out of the cart.
Boy saunters to elevator and pushes button. “Ding!” Elevator instantly arrives. Elevator is as far from Girl as possible.
Girl: Eeeeeeeeeee!!! Girl and golf-cart race to elevator at top-speed, toilet paper dangling dangerously and a weird clickity clack clack clack sound comes from the cart. The elevator doors start to close on the cart and whoosh. The Girl just makes it in the elevator before it shuts. The toilet paper bobs and threatens to fall. Girl gives it the evil eye, praying that it won’t fall–and won’t bring everything else in the cart down with it.
Boy: What floor??
Girl watches as toilet paper comes falling down, falling down, falling down. Next to Boy. Girl mumbles under breath and bends down to the floor to retrieve the toilet paper.
Girl: Uh..hrmm?? Girl looks up at boy from her spot on the elevator floor, where she is rescuing her toilet paper. As she does so, BANG! Girl hits her head against the shopping card. And down comes her paper napkins. And a bag of chips. And some apples. And.. the handle off of one of her paper bag?
Girl: Hrmm???? Oh floor. That foor. Your floor. I mean, we have the same floor. We must be neighbors. Hi, neighbor! Girl raises her hand up from the ground for a hand-shake, only to realize it’s covered in mushed apple goop. She quickly stows her hand behind her back.
Boy (staring at Girl): One. Ok.
Girl rescues her things and waits for the elevator to take off.
And they wait.
Girl begins to tap her foot.
Girl: This is like the slowest yoga ever, right?
Girl: I mean elevator! Elevator! This is the slowest elevator. I’m on my way to yoga. She gestures to her yoga clothes. I’m afraid of being late. I don’t want to be late. I have to put my stuff away first and there was traffic and some of it needs to go to the freezer and then I need to get there and I just don’t want to be late to yoga, you know? And I really need my yoga today. Do you ever just feel like you’re being crazy and you just need something like yoga to make life better? You know?
Girl: You totally don’t care, do you? I’m sorry, I just hate feeling like I’m running late and am worried
that my food will de-thaw or something crazy. And I still need to get my yoga mat and just feel like I’m running way behind.. And I *really* hate elevators…
Boy nods ever so slightly.
Girl: And I’m talking too much. I’m babbling….. I’m sorry, I’ll shut-up now. Elevator rides can be awkward. Sorry, sorry…. My bad.
Girl proceeds to look straight ahead and refuses to look over at Boy.
Elevator “dings!” and begins to go up.
Girl mutters “finally” under her breath while Boy can be heard to make a “phew” out-breath. (Did you know there were really audible “phews?” Phew really is an onomatopoeia.)
Girl: Girl looks over at Boy with a huge smile on her face. Yay! We’re going, isn’t that just…
Girl promptly trails off and returns to her looking straight ahead.
Elevator “dings!” but the doors don’t open. Girl bites her lip and firms her grip on the shopping cart.
The door doesn’t open.
More lip biting. Waiting. Tapping of feet. Fumbling with keys.
The door doesn’t open.
The door still doesn’t open.
Girl sighs loudly. Boy repeatedly punches “door open” button.
Finally….the door opens. Girl rushes her cart forward, hurrying as fast as possible. Boy follows behind.
Boy: Hey, did you hear there’s a party in the building Friday?
Girl pauses abruptly, too abruptly.
Girl: What? Oh, look at that. Girl watches in dismay as toilet paper, napkins, cell phone, bagged lettuce soar out of the cart–and across the elevator and hallway. Oh drat drat drat drat.
Girl rushes back into the elevator, chasing after her phone and a rolling can of black beans.
“Ding!” Elevator door slams shut.
Girl: Wait, no, elevator. Damn you elevator–“door open, door open, door open!” Girl stabs at the “door open button.”
After a moment, elevator door opens. Girl steps out, recovered phone in one hand, beans in the other.
Girl: What did you say?
Boy is nowhere to be found. He’s gone. Vamoosed. Vanished. Vacated the scene.
Girl looks down at her phone and sees the time.
Girl: Oooh… Damn damn damn damn damn!
Girl: Runs around, grabs her remaining items, tosses them into a mish-mash pile into the cart. She exhales, grabs the handles of the cart, and whizzes the cart away. She’s a shopping cart speed demon, defying the laws of grocery shopping. She whirls around a corner, towards her apartment.
Boy (while walking back to the elevator room, holding a large shopping bag): I thought you could maybe use a…
Boy re-enters, looks around.
Fade to black.
Okay, so maybe it wasn’t really that awkward. And I don’t know if the guy came back with a bag or not. But I’d like to imagine he did, because that would be polite, right?
I do know that I made it to yoga and it was utterly fantastic. From now on, though, I think I’ll stick with the stairs. And use the one big cart we have in our building for groceries.
After yoga, I used some of the ingredients I’d purchased to make a delectable and quasi-healthy banana bread. The only “ding!” involved is the sound of your timer. 🙂
Banana Bread, Sunshine Style
1/2 cup organic unsalted butter, softened
1/2 cup organic white sugar
1/2 cup organic light brown sugar
2 organic, free range eggs
2 ripe bananas
1/2 cup ice cold water
2 cups organic all-purpose flour
1 tsp baking power
1 tsp baking soda
1/2 tsp kosher salt
1/2 cup chopped nuts (walnut or pecan, optional)
** I usually just use 1 cup white sugar, but decided to mix-it-up in honor of Fall. Both are good, with brown sugar producing a slightly denser, more “Fall-like” banana bread.
1. Cream butter and sugar. Add eggs and beat well.
2. In a separate bowl (I actually like to use a glass pie pan), mash bananas. Add cold water and mix.
3. Blend banana/water into sugar/egg mixture.
4. Mix remaining dry ingredients (flour, powder, soda, salt). Add to batter slowly. Mixing well.
5. (optional) Stir in nuts by hand.
6. Pour into greased tins. Bake a 375 for 1 and 1/4 hours. If using two small pans, bake for 40 minutes or until a toothpick inserted into middle of bread comes out clean.
|I like to enjoy the banana bread topped with creamy peanut butter and a side of dried fruit (shown here with prunes, they are not just for old people!) for breakfast.|