"C" is for Cookie...

"I bet Brandon hated you when you were little," Tiffany said the other night while we were eating our dessert on the couch.

She was looking at my plate, which I had balanced on my knees.

"Why?" I asked. Then I looked at her plate. "Ohhhhhh."

Tiffany only had one bite of her Peruvian cookie left. And by left, I mean, the bite on her plate was the only bite she had left in this country. Her aunt had brought the cookie over on her most recent trip and wouldn't be returning any time soon. I had my entire Peruvian cookie, plus most of the frozen banana we had split in two. I was eating the banana first because, although it was delicious, the Peruvian cookie was much better. I'm a big believer in self-deprivation, as you might have guessed by now. (And, yes, "hate" is a strong word, but my brother was bothered that I could make my Halloween candy last until Valentine's Day)

"I am slow," I agreed, proceeding to eat my banana slice by slice before moving onto my cookie. This I pulled apart and ate bite by bite, in between sips of milk.

"Come on," Tiffany groaned.

"I'm savoring!" I cried.

Soon I forgot my slow eating was driving her crazy, fascinated as I was by "So You Think You Can Dance" (for the record, I do not think I can).

When I ate my last bite, I felt a little sad, as I always do.

But I felt much worse when Tiffany yelled: "YES! I knew I could do it!" and then popped her remaining cookie morsel into her mouth.

Sunny Days

Tiffany and I went to visit my brother and some friends in Florida last weekend. As usual, I got too much sun (see here and here). I didn't realize just how much I'd gotten until Tiffany and I went into the bathroom to brush our teeth together before our early morning flight home.

When I looked up from applying toothpaste to my toothbrush, Tiffany was staring at my reflection in the mirror.

"What?" I asked.

"Your..." she tried to finish her sentence, but burst out laughing. "Your... look at your..."

"Oh my god, my lips!" I yelled, when I saw what she was talking about. They were huge. I looked like Goldie Hawn after her collagen injection in the movie First Wives Club.

"'Mustafa!'" I said to Tiffany in the mirror, puckering my mouth at her.

Soon we were both giggling, and that's how Brandon found us when he came out of his bedroom.

"What is going on... oh my god, your lips!" he cried.

"Don't tell mom," I warned him, pointing my toothbrush at him.

Then we all laughed until I had to stop because the skin on my lips was cracking. It was easy to stop because leaving my brother makes me so sad.

But later we had to laugh again when Tiffany--my Greek/Peruvian sun goddess--realized how burnt her back was.

"You did a horrible job putting block on my back," she complained.

I looked at her, confused.

"Did I put sunscreen on your back?"

"Oh my god, no wonder!" she cried. "Nobody was looking out for me!"

"Mustafa," I answered. 

If It Isn't Heaven, It's...

Tiffany and I are pretty good in a car (see the posts on our epic cross-country move here).

But we disagree on the rules of a roadtrip. Specifically, she feels that the passenger should never be allowed to sleep, under any circumstances, while the car is in motion. I disagree. The advantages of having two drivers include having the chance to take a nap when you are not driving, which I did on a recent Sunday when we drove back from New Hampshire.

"Are you sleeping?" Tiffany cried.

"Huh?" I asked, jumping in my seat.

"I was waving my hand in front of your face, and you didn't even flinch!"

"Yes, I was sleeping! That's what you get to do when you're not driving. As the driver, you get to control the radio."

She was not persuaded.

"Let's play a game," she chirped.

But, soon after we began 20 Questions, playing a game became troublesome too.

"I'm thinking of a person..." I started.

"Is the person famous?"

"No."

"Then what's the point of picking this person?" she complained.

During her turn, she thought of a place.

"Is it in the United States?" I asked.

"No," she answered.

"Is it in another country?"

"No."

"Impossible," I said, then: "Is it in Outer Space?"

"No."

"What?? What kind of a place... wait, a minute... have I been there?"

"You may get there eventually," she said.

I narrowed my eyes.

"Is it heaven?"

She shook her head, smiling.

Hell.