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Oily Brownies & the Stories We Tell

The other day, in a particularly talkative mood, I found myself responding rapidfire to a friend’s simple question of “how was your day?”

I told them the day was wonderful. “Great day of work. Went for a gentle walk. Made brownies. Learned new things in my Spanish language study. And on and on.”

I realized that the next question would probably be something about how the “brownies sound delicious” and “could I share?” and before I knew it, I had typed another message, “but the brownies are oily.”

And they are oily. I don’t know why. I followed the recipe. But the brownies are oily and not as yummy as I wanted them to be and as I was thinking about that, I realized I could spin my day in the opposite.

I didn’t feel like I was on my A-game at work because I’m bouncing back from a minor concussion and by the end of 8 hours on the computer, I am totally zonked out. I could have mentioned that, even though my walk was nice, what I really wanted to do was go for a run - something I’m unable to do at least for a little bit. I could have said that I messed up the brownies and that this oily, potentially undercooked mess was a total baking fail. Could have said that I overslept so instead of doing Spanish before work, I did it after work, which totally threw off my morning routine.

But I didn’t. I said my day was wonderful.

And it was one of those moments for me where I realized that nothing catastrophically GOOD or BAD happened that day. It was a pleasant enough Thursday. And in that moment, answering that question, I was able to choose how I responded. I was able to write my own story. So was it wonderful? Or was I mad about oily brownies?

I don’t always choose wonderful.

But I’m trying.

And anyway, I figure that messy, oily brownies are probably just as good to sprinkle over vegan ice cream sundaes. And that sounds wonderful to me.

Love always,

Liz

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