So today seems like a good day to play a game, amiright? I have a super fun* one for ya'll. I made up all by myself, so you know it's going to be legendary*. And because every game needs a title, I call this one, "Minute to Pin It" - a title which literally has nothing to do with how you play the game, but it doesn't even matter, because it's awesome sounding. And surprise, it's brought to you by Pinterest. Because obviously no one saw that coming.
How do you play this super fun* game? It goes a little something like this: Look at two pictures, and decide which one is from Pinterest, and which one I made myself. Boom. Epic.* So, since I know you're dying to play*, your two pictures are below...
Try not to think too hard about it. Even though they're pretty much identical.*
Okay. So, I'm 500% sure you all win - congratu-freakin'-lations. This is just yet another reason Pinterest pisses me the hell off. Way to set unrealistic expectations, you crafty A holes. I set out on this particular venture, pretty optimistic that I was going to finally win at Pinterest. Any project with a brownie, pretzels, marshmallows and a stick can't be too hard. right?
The website didn't really give much detail on how they put the skeletons together, because, um, yeah. However, they did say that they used ganache on the brownies. Because I know what ganache is.*
I debated with myself for like an hour on whether or not I wanted to drive back to WalMart for the 700th time to pick up the stuff to make it. And I finally decided that if my skeletons were going to look as good as the internet's, I had to make whatever the hell ganache was. Most the recipes I found called for semi-sweet chocolate. Which is unfortunate, because if you're going to eat semi-sweet chocolate, you may as well eat a foot dipped in turd. But nevertheless, I didn't want to stray from what Google said, or else my skeletons would suck. Plus, the internet said that semi-sweet was better, because then the brownies wouldn't be too sweet. Because apparently that's a thing.
So, I made the ganache and poured it over my brownies and stuck 'em in the fridge so it would "set", or whatever ganache is supposed to do. Then I had to draw faces on 30 marshmallows. Because, yes, I was making 30 of these bad boys. And apparently there's such things as editable food markers... Who knew? So I went over to JoAnn's and literally walked up and down their little cake decorating aisle at least 47 times. And I stared right at the stupid markers for probably an hour before I found an employee to point out that if it were a snake, it would've bit me right in the ass. Nuhr. Kind of embarrassing, but it helped that she even had to stare at everything for a couple minutes before she saw them. Anyways, I finally got home and drew all the faces on the marshmallows. Which, as you can see, of course aren't nearly as cutesy and refined as the Pinterest ones - most of my skeletons looked more pissed off than anything. Whatever.
I busted open one of the several bags of White Fudge Flipz pretzels that I got, and realized that they weren't nearly as white as the marshmallow or as the pretzels on the internet. Because, I mean, why would they be? That was a major OCD flare-up. The whites not matching?
Anyways, after I put all the pretzels on, they kept spinning around the stick, so the only hope I had of making that part as perfect as the internet was super glue. And last I checked, that stuff isn't exactly edible. (Speaking of things that aren't edible, have you ever had those white fudge Flipz pretzels? BARF.)
I put it altogether and was only marginally impressed, if that. I decided that maybe it would look better if I put it in the stupid 99 cent bags I bought from WalMart - because trust me to not find the fancy cellophane wrap stuff. So I tried sticking the whole thing in the bag and got the stupid GANACHE all. over. It was smeared pretty much from hell to breakfast... all around the bag, all over my hands, and I'm pretty sure Toby got some off the floor. I was pretty much near tears at this point, thinking of having to put 29 more of these together. Even so, I still put a ribbon on it, to try and resurrect any hope I had of these looking even kind of presentable. Which is when I may or may not have had a teensy meltdown and catapulted my skeleton into the wall.
Shawn came in with the usual, "What now?" face, and I shoved the skeleton disaster in his face and pouted that it didn't look like Pinterest, and I didn't want to make any more. Shawn looked around at all the dozens of marshmallows, brownies, and bags of pretzels that were strewn across the kitchen, and assured me that yes, I'd be making more. He had to convince me for about an hour that the skeletons didn't look terrible, and that the ganache didn't taste like an asshole. Because, oh yeah, it did. I had made another pan of brownies that luckily weren't contaminated by the ganache - which is why the skeleton in the above picture, doesn't have frosting all over the bag.
I finally stopped pouting, and decided to just finish the skeletons from what I had. I didn't feel like baking another pan of brownies, so I ended up using the ones with the ganache - I figured, they were going to a bunch of senior citizens - and old people like gross food, so there was a pretty good chance that they'd like the brownies just fine. And several hours later, they were all done. I unfortunately had only taken a quick picture of one of them to show a friend, and not the whole lot of 'em. But I was surprisingly more content with how they turned out. You know, after Shawn showed me how to not get frosting all over the damn place when I put them in the bags.
The next day was the Relief Society activity that I had planned and was going to bring these to. We were going to visit with the residents in a close-by assisted living facility - and I wanted them to have treats. Because Halloween means treats. Even if you're 96 years old. When the Relief Society sisters saw all the skeletons I had made, they gushed about how adorable they were - and how it was such a good idea. And I suddenly felt like Martha freakin' Stewart.
We ended up playing Bingo with the Alzheimer's Unit of this particular facility. And boy, was that a glimpse into my future. There was a woman sitting at the table I was at, who - the entire time - yelled: "NEE NEE NEE NEE NEE NEE NEE NEE NEEEEEEEEE NENENENENE NEE NEE NEE NEE NEE NEE NEE" and then randomly burst into song. When I asked her what her name was, she laughed really hard and said, "I don't remember!" I later told Shawn, "That's totally going to be me some day." And he responded with, "Some day?" And it wasn't until about 5 minutes later that I realized he had totally just insulted me. And he thought that was hilarious. Thanks for that, Husband. Anyways, I digress.
All the women had such sweet spirits, even though many of them had no idea what was going on. And the icing to this entire post was when we passed out the skeletons. They. loved. them. The women who could form coherent sentences just went on and on about how cute they were, and how they were going to show their grandchildren. Other women inhaled the entire thing no sooner than I had given it to them. They all seemed legitimately happy to get such an awesome treat. And I suddenly wasn't worrying about the ganashe tasting like barf, or that the pretzels weren't perfectly lined up, or that they were in cheapo bags. Because it just didn't matter. They loved them.
Which brings me back to Pinterest. I can't help that I'm such a perfectionist with things like this. Because yes, I will cry if it doesn't look like the picture. Which is why Pinterest is such a royal pain in my crack. Why can't we just agree to post #2 pictures on there, right? Aaaaand here comes a life lesson - which I'm probably saying more for myself, than for anyone. But there's probably always going to be a #1 to your #2. Comparing yourself and your life to the metaphorical Pinterests of the world, really won't do you much good. Sure, it can help inspire you to be a better version of yourself - but that doesn't mean you need to beat yourself for not achieving absolute perfection. Because turns out, Jesus is the only one that can do that. I think perfection is in the eye of the beholder - which, sure, is cliche. But it's a cliche for a reason. It's true. I may be stubborn, hormonal, and not a Victoria's Secret Angel. But to my husband, I'm perfect. And he may eat my leftovers, make Alzheimer's jokes at my expense, and pee in the shower. But to me, he's perfect. So no more comparing yourself, your life, and your skelepretzels to anyone else. Find and refine your strengths, know and accept your weaknesses, and use that knowledge to be a version of yourself that makes you PROUD.
Who knew skelepretzels could by so inspirational?*
*Except not really.