"Sh*t! I have to bake!"
"Hal-low? What? Wait. Listen, I'm forty-five years old and I'm going through some CHANGES right now, okay. I just got my period. It was two weeks late and it feels like everything down there is going to fall right out on the floor. I've been up since 2:30 in the morning and I'm covered in glitter and glue and I'm trying to make a Heat Miser Halloween costume for a sixteen year old. What do YOU want?"
"I feel you," I said.
"Oh, I don't think so. No, no, no. You definitely DO NOT. Call me back when yours are teen-agers!"
"Oh, please," she said. "I do NOT bake."
"This glue is giving me a damned headache!"
"Did you try my mom?" he asked.
"Yeah, I tried her first, but she didn't pick up."
"Oh, right. Canasta."
"You could try calling Aunt Gladys," he said and he gave me her phone number.
"When do you have to make this cake?" Jeffrey asked me.
"Right now," I answered. "I'm in PTA hell."
"It's due tomorrow? You waited until the last minute?"
"Well, who's gonna eat the cake?" Jeffrey asked.
"What do you mean? I don't know who's going to eat it," I said.
"So why don't you just follow the directions on the cake mix box and forget about Grandma's recipe?"
"Okay, Jeffrey. You've talked me down."
"Repeat after me... I do not have to be a baking over-achiever for the PTA...now try that a few more times...""I do not have to be a baking over-achiever for the PTA...""I do not have to be a baking over-achiever for the PTA...""I do not have to be a baking over-achiever for the PTA..."