this post brought to you today by the letter B

I planned to be a bitch today.

To be the best bitch on a day begging for bitchdom, I brainstormed and blueprinted and banged out a mission. I'd cry "Just because!" while banishing boys to the basement, then retrace my steps and return to my bed to burrow under blankets and perhaps even bawl. Find my inner Betty Draper, bend my hair into a bun. Imbibe in badly mixed elixirs while brooding about my day, bury myself face first into pillows once tastefully cornered on the davenport. My mind was bent on saying davenport rather than sofa or couch, because it's what my grandmother would say, and though she is forever among my beloved, she could also be quite a bitch, and today, that trait was going to run in the family.

I planned to be a bitch today.

But instead...

Instead I chose to burst forth upon the day where burst forth was the eager understudy for take a moment to stretch my weary bones. "Nay," I broadcast. "I shall not be a bitch today!"

Instead of banishing boys to the basement, I bunched them both up, the one who is a beanstalk and the other who answers to the nickname Boo, and we banded together to bake blueberry muffins. Because we don't believe in store bought mixes here (no offense to the other Betty, this one a Crocker), we blended and buttered and beat our way through bags of flour, sugar and broken eggs - blissfully, just two. Blessed with but only a 1/2 teaspoon measuring spoon where 2 teaspoons were a must, we bent our brains around the business of beefing up fractions (thank you, seventh grade math, chapter 2, for backing us up and bolstering our egos), then we watched the all the pretty flour(s) bloom upon the counter top.

While waiting for tiny blue pillows to burst, we also made these, and while I can think of no B-words to describe them and blow you away, I can break the news these cookies are the bomb. The secret ingredient? Banana pudding. "Best believe it," boasts the beanstalk, so you can bank on it being true.

Then the boy nicknamed Boo brought forth books and a query, so we buried ourselves in the pages. A blow-by-blow account of a chicken with a craving and a belly in need of filling, he set out to brew up bites for his buddies while they watched the big game. But just then came the big twist in the story! Those buffalo wings? They weren't quite what they seemed!

After bursting into laughter at our protagonist's beguiling tale, we broke free of the building to brave the great outdoors, where we backed down from blowing bubbles because we were blown away by the breeze before boogieing back inside to sample our fruity treats. The night is still young, there's time yet for burgers that have been barbecued and Buffy's season six exploits, but I already believe we've made the best of this day.

I planned to be a bitch today, but I'm blessed to know I thought better of it.