The little water picture

“Girls? This looks wrong.” Elle and I looked to the kitchen inquisitively. Rachel was frowning into her bowl of brownie batter.

I was doing homework – always multi-tasking even when spending time with friends. So Elle wandered over and agreed that there was a problem.

“It’s like there’s not enough wet.” She said, and Rachel enthusiastically agreed.

I smiled into my book, writing out homework problems or grading lab reports – I can’t remember which. We made brownies a lot in undergrad – it was the consistent item on all of our grocery lists and I don’t think a week went by when brownies weren’t readily available. Bad days, good days, nothing much has happened days – chocolate treats were ever present. So if the batter was wrong, we’d know. This was our area of expertise.

“What’d you forget to add?” I asked from the couch after they’d stood at the kitchen island for a moment without making progress.

“Nothing! I don’t think.” Rachel started whine.

“So there’s the eggs, the oil and the water. You did all that?”

“Water doesn’t go in brownies.” Rachel said, looking over to grace me with a grin, and Elle went to dig the box out of the garbage.

“Look,” she said, displaying it. “There’s the little oil measuring cup, then the picture of the eggs, then the little spoonfuls of water. It’s not like we’ve never done this before.” She teased.

“Oh,” Rachel said, smiling sheepishly. “I must not have seen the little water picture.”

So we laughed, Rachel quickly added water and put the brownies in to bake, and we returned to casual conversation and half-hearted attempts at work.

I craved brownies last night, added the now rarely enjoyed treat to my grocery list, and went shopping this morning. I returned home, preheated the oven, and put food away into a refrigerator that remains very neat and organized. Then I added oil and eggs to the boxed mix, smiling fondly as I measured 3 tablespoons of water. I’m just starting to smell chocolate as they bake.

I’ve been told I resist small talk. I don’t mind listening to it, certainly, but if I’m telling you something that happened to me, I’m probably attempting to teach myself a lesson or make some point. I don’t often tell stories just because I thought of them, so I’m trying to practice doing that.

No big point today. Just a really lovely memory and the anticipation of brownies.