Beer in the Batter

We decided to go for croissants and coffee. My mom likes the croissants made by the Vietnamese man on 45th and coffee from Tully’s. I prefer Café Besalu and Vita, but it was Mother’s Day so I kept my preference on mute.

The Vietnamese man wasn't behind the counter when we arrived. Instead it was a different man who said, “Let me guess. Mother. Daughter.” We nodded. He laughed. “Everyone’s got to be sober today,” he said. My mom and I nodded again. Yes. In honor of Mother’s Day we had opted for sober as opposed to our typical Sunday morning sloshed.

When our friend finally appeared from the back, there was no recognition on his face, only exhaustion. Usually he lights up and talks when my mom stops in. Today he didn't. We left with four croissants: two almond, two butter. I asked my mom if the interaction disappointed her. She said, "Yes. He's usually so happy to see me. Oh...my boyfriend…" her thoughts wistfully wondering.

We took our croissants to Tully's and ordered a tall americano with room for me and a single, tall, dry, vanilla cappuccino for mom. We also had The New York Times, a camera and my notepad, of course.

My mom wore her favorite shoes. I wore clogs and jeans. Before we left the house that morning my mom said, "Those jeans look too big on you." I did not appreciate her remark. "Are you in a bad mood today?" I asked. "No," she said. "Just because my opinion is different from yours doesn't mean I'm in a bad mood."

I also wore fake eyelashes. Not because I wanted to, but because the night before I had gone to a party and I wanted to look extra feminine. It was the first time I had worn fake eyelashes. By morning, half of them had come off. The other half stayed firmly put, yet jetted in all sorts of unnatural directions. I tried to take them off with alcohol and almond oil and special fake eyelash removing liquid. No luck.

I stepped outside to call my grandma. I never feel like I’m a good enough granddaughter. I could be a much better granddaughter.

Jay joined us. Could he be any cuter? No!

And could my mom be any cuter? No! She hates this picture. I love it. I think she looks like a total cartoon character. Calling a person a total cartoon character is the highest compliment I dish. If I ever say it to you, be flattered beyond flattered. It means you’re full of flavor and spunk. It means I sense those secret talents you’ve got hiding up your sleeve. It means, if you’d let me, I would stare at you for hours and draw pictures of you in my journal. It means I like you. Like really like you.

We attempted the crossword. We shared stories from the paper. We scribbled notes on napkins. Jay penned a poem entitled “How do the sages know?” How do they know, indeed!

Total cartoon characters.

It was time to go home. We walked down 45th and I danced around Jay and mom like they were celebrities and I was a paparazzo. Fully embracing my character, I taunted them and tried to incite a scandal. They cracked up. After seeing this picture my mom decided she does not like the look of such a huge purse. She banned it from her wardrobe immediately. I scooped it for myself. I love the look of a huge purse. It was a total good on me.

By the way, we didn’t finish the croissants. They look utterly delectable in this photo, but they were actually soggy. I thought they tasted like beer and remarked that maybe the baker accidentally spilled his pint (or keg) in the batter having not received the memo about Mother’s Day sobriety. In the end we chalked it up to humidity. “It must be the weather,” my mom said. “Usually his croissants are perfectly flaky.” Yeah. Must have been the weather. Croissants are practically inedible on humid days.

Next time new things will happen. Stay tuned...