Nothing like retail therapy to make the perfect day! Last year and early this year I received a ton of Target Gift Cards (us Florida people are very fond of Target and its respective gift card-giving). I had thus decided that, instead of buying a bunch of individual little things, I would stock up my gift cards and bide my time until I could buy something big, grand, and expensive for nearly free. Today was the day. Armed with over $100 worth of Target Gift Cards, some as old as 5 years, I drove to Target blasting Taylor Swift. And don't you laugh. Something about cold weather just really makes me want to listen to Taylor Swift, okay?
I arrived at Target at 10:30 armed with my weapons of choice. I had planned to just go in, buy my expensive item, and go out, but the Target vortex sucked me in and I spent a good hour just browsing the aisles thinking of what I might want to buy. New camera? Hmm. 6 different kinds of mini indoor water fountains? Please. TV? Still would be kind of expensive. Eventually I found myself drawn to the coffee machine aisle. This is the part where I confess to Joshua Kuckuck that I bought myself a Keurig even though I just bought him one. I couldn't resist! Those things are just so cool and I need my coffee! I happily put my to-be Keurig into my shopping cart and checked out the wide variety of K-Cups. Target was a mecca of K-Cups, stocked with many I had never even seen before. Pumpkin spice coffee, chocolate vanilla truffle, and elusive apple cider and hot chocolate. Even Kahlua-flavored coffee! The K-Cups were a little expensive however, so I decided to try the 12 that my Keurig came with and see which ones I like before buying a flavor that I might end up not liking. I take my ungodly expensive coffee machine to the register and pull out my gift cards - about 8 in all. The cashier probably thought I'd robbed a Target somewhere. My total came to $127 and, with all of my gift cards added in, I ended up paying only $22 for my new coffee machine. So yes, I had bought 2 Keurigs within two weeks, but I think that my mass savings on the second one more than made up for it.
I got back to Wesleyan just in time for lunch, which is always less-than-extraordinaire on the weekends. I helped myself to a salad as usual, though, which I could always count on to be decent. More so, salads were my scapegoat from insulin shots, and thus I tried to eat as healthy as possible, as often as possible. I met up with Mary Kathryn and Sarah during lunch. They followed me back to my room so that I could grab my keys and then we piled into my truck. This afternoon we were going to the Greek Festival and planning to check out the literary festival going on in downtown Macon. Anything would be better than sitting in the dorms doing homework all day!
Traffic was pretty sluggish and it was a while before we hit Vineville. "What the heck is this?!" I said, commenting on the odd traffic lights centered over all three lanes of traffic. Each lane of traffic was labeled with either a red "X" or a green arrow. The lanes with a green arrow in them meant those were the ones you could drive in; I'm assuming the ones with an X meant "X marks the spot" aka don't drive in those lanes or you will die.
We arrived at the Greek Festival amidst a large crowd. We drove around the parking lot looking for a space, and all the while we had started talking about how motorcycles should not be allowed to have whole parking spaces. "Neither should smart cars!", I exclaimed. "They should only get half spaces!" We finally found a parking space and I was about to turn in... and suddenly a bright pink smart car turned around the curb and took it. I wanted to take my truck and run over their puny pathetic car in that moment. Serious truck-rage. It took nearly 15 minutes afterwards to find a parking spot. It was so frustrating!
We were finally able to get out and enjoy the festival. We were greeted by a menagerie of enticing smells, baklava sundaes, greek music and all the excitement of a festival day. We perused the tents, checking out the lovely Greek jewelry and other exotic items. The food all smelled so good and was so tempting, but I had purposely eaten lunch beforehand so as to not eat at the festival. Mainly because my blood sugar, unfortunately, did not speak Greek. I had no earthly clue how many carbs were in baklava sundaes, random Greek food in general and I wasn't up for facing the wrath of my blood sugar later. After hearing a Greek girl sing Carrie Underwood we concluded our tour of the Greek Festival and decided to go on an adventure. We selected a sidewalk on a hill, looked it over contemplatively, and began walking aimlessly with the intent of exploring downtown Macon. This proved to be a very enlightening experience when we ended up walking in a circle and deciding that Macon was mostly creepy at night, but also perfectly capable of being creepy during the day.
Next we drove to Cherry Street. We passed a cute, crowded restaurant called the Market City Cafe. "Ladies," a man walking out of the cafe nodded and said as he passed. I suddenly sat down on a nearby bench, catching my breath. Pulling out my glucose meter, I tested to find a terrifying 45. It was terrifying because I had forgotten to put any snacks or glucose tabs into my purse before leaving. Stupid, stupid, I muttered to myself. I should have had that baklava after all. "Umm... I need food. Now," I said to Sarah and Mary, panicking. I was in a strange and unfamiliar city, in the middle of downtown Macon, with a blood sugar of 45 quickly dropping and no way of knowing when I could get food. "Let's go into the cafe with the classy guy in front!" Sarah suggested. I laughed a little, trying to be humorous although the situation was far from optimal. The restaurant was a beacon of hope (you'll probably never hear me describe anything about Macon like that again) as we turned back and went into the cafe. We exchanged puzzled looks as a man seated us even though I just wanted to go straight over to the baked goods and see what I could quickly grab. While a waitress went to get us menus and water, I ran over to the plexiglass and spied some cookies. It was Sunday, though, and I noticed the dessert stand cash register was closed. I was willing to try anyways. "Excuse me," I said to a man behind the counter, who was preoccupied talking with one of the chefs in the kitchen. "Can I please just get a cookie?" He started at me blankly. "A cookie," I repeated again. "I... well..." he stammered, seeming unsure of what to do. "I just started here," he told me. "Please." I said, the desperation apparent in my voice, practically shoving my debit card into his hand. "I'm Diabetic. I'm having a low blood sugar. I need sugar." His face softened. He called over to the host who had seated us. "Ring her up one of the cookies," He told him. He put two of them on a plate for me. Relieved, I thanked him, grabbed my cookies, and took them over to the booth where Sarah and Mary Kathryn were seated. "We ordered a slice of cake," they told me. The cakes here looked seriously awesome. They were about the size of a head (maybe a slight exaggeration) and were probably enough to turn anyone into a Diabetic... not to say they didn't look completely worth going Diabetic over.
I was devouring my cookies as a waitress came over. She gave me a funny look. "Oh, she's already started on her dessert, I see..." I wanted to tell her to hush, I was a freaking Diabetic and I would have my cookies, but as my low blood sugar slipped away back into normal levels I contented myself with simply stuffing my face with chocolate-ey chip-ey goodness instead. It had been ages since I had had a cookie... sigh.
The caramel mocha crunch cake came out, and needless to say it was the most incredible cake we had ever seen. We took pictures. And then dug in. I think we can all agree that I deserved some serious extra credit for treating this low blood sugar.
Crisis more than averted, we returned to the car and finally drove back to Wesleyan. It had been an interesting day, filled with terror, excitement, cake, and country Greek singers. And, above all, it was simply good to finally go on an adventure. Macon or not, that's something that I would pick over Organic Chemistry, anytime.
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