I ventured out again today to pick up our tickets for the Indy 500 Parade. We have a road-side seat and everything :).
This time, I was doing so well on the directions! Until I decided to take a random left as I feared I was edging my way out of downtown and possibly into the areas where I have been specifically told not to go to if I can help it. It is almost as if there is an invisible box around Riley Towers and I keep bumping off the sides instead of getting around smoothly! You would think the block system would help but not so much. I even, half heartedly, took a google map with me again. Maybe next time, the third time, I will get lucky and find where I need to go by using them. After asking a few people for directions I ended up at the Monument Circle twice by accident and, incredibly, from two completely different entrances (although that wasn’t too bad as there were lots of men in uniform for the Memorial day ceremony, and women of course). I was then directed back to the spot where I had taken the wrong turning and informed all I needed to do was cross two more blocks and turn right. I had been so close!
After having a lovely conversation with the very helpful ticket man, well when you don’t have a job it’s these little conversations that provide the anchor for human interaction. I think I have turned into one of those people who bars/shops can’t get rid of because all I want to do is stay and have a chat. Later on, I even had a fumbling with quarters ‘moment’ at the supermarket and didn’t pack my bags quick enough! Oh god, Indy has aged me already! Must find something immature to do.
After informing the lovely ticket man that we call ‘Soccer’ Football and, no, I do not support Manchester United. Only true Mancunians support Manchester City (Sorry Andy and Jude!). I decided I needed cheering up from my disastrous but, as it turns out, quite enjoyable extended walk. I couldn’t think of a more delightful way to do this than a little outing to The Flying Cupcake Bakery to pick up a friday treat.
My word! If I could ever make a cupcake that was a quarter as good as the ones in that delectably stripy shop then I would be ecstatic. The menu was far too crucifying for the diet. I chose the ‘Gime S’mores’ for Luke
and I just couldn’t resist the ‘Peanut Butter Blackout’.
However, my heaven was disrupted when the handle on my Marsh supermarket bag decided to give way and snapped off my shoulder, dropping my shopping all over their floor. Thankfully it wasn’t the bag with the glass jar of pasta sauce, one can only imagine the scene if that had smashed! Just imagine the headlines if the red , tomato sauce spattered all over the perfectly formed cupcakes.I would have been forever known as the cupcakes murderer of Indiana.
Yet, at that particular moment I wished I had dropped to the floor and it had swallowed me up just as long as the cupcakes, preferably the chocolatey/ peanutty ones, came with me. I was so embarrassed! , which wasn’t helped by the fact that the staff were not particularly empathetic and did they offer to help? oh no. So looking like a bumbling, mad Englishwoman (especially as my hair had gone wild in the humidity) I mumbled a feeble thank you and, with the little fragments of what was left of my dignity, I excited the bakery.
I then struggled with another two bags as I had to work out a way of making it home. I had to do all this whilst keeping my precious cupcake box intact.
It was like an intelligence test. Luckily, although not especially intelligent, I am unstoppably determined when it comes to keeping cupcakes safe. well, that is until I eat them. I made it back to Riley Towers triumphant! Then , just as I made it to the kitchen the handles on the other bags broke. So it appears that they are not quite the re-usable bags they crack up to be.
I did begin to feel much calmer after my peanut butter goodie. It was yummy and helped smooth my bruised ego from the shame of that ‘shopping incident’. What also made me feel better was that Luke had also managed to get lost on his way home. Using a Satnav! hehe. I feel that my smugness has reared its ugly head again.