Cupcake Run

"What time is it?" I ask.

"It's 4:40 p.m. How far is it from here?" she replies. 

"They're open until 5. We have to get through this checkout line, hop on the Beltline, go a few exits, get off the Beltline, drive through a residential area, find the parking garage and then make a run for it." I say. 

"Can we make it?" she asks with a slightly wrinkled up nose.

"You'd better be ready to drive. I mean drive. Think you can stick with me?" I challenge.

"Ahem. Did you see me cut off the guy in the West Towne parking lot so I could keep up with you on the way here? I can drive," she defiantly responds, as little sisters do when big sisters throw down the gauntlet. 

We check out, show the Sam's Club guy our receipt on the way out and quickly walk to our cars. 

"You ready?" I holler as I climb in my Ford Edge. 

"Bring it on," she fires back as she slides into her Pontiac G6. 

Engine on, D for drive and off we go. In perfect synchronization, we turn left onto Gammon Road, merge right to get on the ramp and zoom up onto the Beltline. Soon, we see the sign for Midvale Boulevard, duck into the exit lane and head toward Hilldale. We pass schools where Sunday afternoon soccer games are going on, keeping our eyes peeled for kids, cars pulling away from the parked-full curbs and cops. 

I never can remember how far it is, because I don't make the trip that often. We cruise through nice neighborhoods, past another school, a little shopping/condo district. The time on my dash clock keeps ticking ... 4:52 ... 4:53 ... 4:54. 

There it is! The Hilldale sign. I dart in the driveway. Parking garage on my left and on my right, Macy's straight ahead. I pass the garages, take a right turn in front of Macy's and, damn! I see the pink sign in rear view mirror. I went the wrong way. 

I hang a right. Then another into the parking garage and fly into the first parking spot I see. She's right behind me. 4:55 ... 4:56 ... we might make it!

"We have to run!" I shout over my shoulder at her as I head toward the stairway. She's right behind me. Down the parking garage stairs, across the street, I hit the sidewalk and see the storefront. 

In my head I know it's 4:57 ... 4:58. 

Now I'm running, thankful I wore shoes that allow me to jog. I feel a bit conspicuous. Who runs down the sidwalk in street clothes, looking as desperate as this? 

But there it is. I'm closing in. I think we're going to make it! Finally! Hand on door! Success! I throw it open and ...

There's people in line in front of me and only six cupcake flavors left. There are two chocolate with white frosting and mini chocolate chips and I want them both. It's all I can do to not push the lovely little girls with their fancy Madison mommies aside to get at them. 

But I wait. When it's my turn, the cupcake I want is still there. I get a some as a Get Well for my recuperating neighbor. She gets one for each daughter and an extra for a birthday surprise for on of their friends tomorrow. The counter lady packs them all up and we head outside, collapsing in a heap on the lovely little hot pink bistro sets. 

And we split that bad boy chocolate one. Victory really is sweet.

White Midnight Magic

What could be better? A cupcake with my sister, talking about whatever comes up ... and we actually got a mini workout in getting there.

Thank you, Gigi's.

Hope you had a great weekend, too.