marsupials

So, yesterday when I was at the grocerary store with my relations when I saw the most awesome cupcake-paper things ever, with superman on them. They were seriously awesome. So I decided to make the platonic form of birthday-party cupcakes, with this paper things and funfetti cake mix and gross store-bought white frosting and sprinkles. And this morning, after a few hours of working in the yard (if anyone ever needs huge amounts of sod that have encroached on his or her sidewark removed, I am the one to call), I decided it would be a good relaxing indoor activity to make these cupcakes. And I was so excited about them until I was taking them out of the pan and my mother walked in the room and asked, "So where are the superman paper things?" (except maybe she remembered the real name for them) and I said, "Right there, on top of the prunes," and then it dawned on me that I had forgotten to put said paper things in the pan. So not only did I not have cupcakes with awesome paper around them but the cupcakes stuck to the pan and I am left with lots of cupcake tops and then a bowl of cupcake crumbs. It is very, very tragic.

Coming home was so much different this year. Last year I seem to remember being very sad to be leaving and having it be very weird to be home. This year I'm just sort of relieved. I've been home a few more times since then, so the culture shock of going from school to home is less, and then much of it has to do with the nature of my departure, I'm sure: last year I left early in finals week, and I left all my friends still at Middlebury. This year there was no one to watch me leave, I just packed up the car by myself and left; and then I had just spent a week dealing with the business of leaving, everyone else packing and me packing and finals and papers saying goodbye to people. So I was ready to be gone. And leaving to your friends happily waving at you is a lot different from spending the morning having someone tell you how you failed to keep people from excluding her and she's miserable and she can't be friends with you anymore, and then rushing madly to pack between the hugs you keep being given as your father thinks about how we're going to miss an important skit performance at home due to your failure to be packed and ready. By the way, I'm pretty sure I left a couple of things sitting on the grass outside of Coffrin. I reminds me of the time I left a load of my laundry in the drier and gradually realized that I was missing half my clothes.