Forget It, Lee. It's Cartersville.

I decided to walk around Main Street in Cartersville today while waiting to pick Graham up from work to see Up! It was a fairly nice day, really sunny with puffy white clouds and a little bit of a breeze and as I parked Bruno, I decided that today would be a perfect day for a chocolate croissant and a cup of strong coffee.


I had parked by Agan's Bakery, an old brick shop along the old town strip close to the building labeled "Butcher Shop." I was excited because along with the charm and quaintness of old Cartersville (one of its only saving graces), it actually had an operational bakery. I had never been but I had seen its 1970s pale orange lettering every time I drove through. I walked in the door, not quite sure if they were open.

I entered to find there were no chairs or tables. Three glass display cases bordered the foyee and there were no menus or prices listed anywhere. There was a small handful of cakes displayed, a few breakfast pastries, and a small smattering of pies on the thin top shelf to my right. And despite my optimism, things looked dismal.

I searched for croissants but to no avail. I looked at the girl behind the counter who was rather young and not entirely enthralled with the idea of working in a bakery for the rest of her life. Her somewhat cheerful smile could not completely disguise her lack of legitimate enthusiasm. Yet she was the only one who could reveal to me where the tasty, buttery, flakey, sweet French pastries were horded. With a slight grin she asked me how she could be of assistance and I asked if they had any croissants.

She apologized first which could have lead to many other following statements like:
"I'm sorry, but we ran out! There will be some tomorrow!"
"I'm sorry, but they all were scorched because our baker is German!"
"I'm sorry, but the only one we have is plastic."

But no. She just flat-out told me that they didn't have any. I tried to mask my horror and disbelief with a dash of self-deprecation and endeavored to search for something else. I gazed through the abysmally small selection of much inferior pastries, staring at each one hoping to turn them into chocolate croissants with my eyes.

I decided to choose the apple bread that looked like a muffin but was, in fact, not. I figured it would be inexpensive but I still wasn't impressed with the lack of price display. I asked for a cup of coffee and did not see her prepare it nor even did she bestow me a small vessel for it. The total for my breakfast was $2.12, which pleased me seeing as I received a heaping pile of disappointment for free just by walking through the door. I gave a smile and thanks and then miraculously found where I could get my coffee. Two pump carafes were sitting on a small table next to an automated cappuccino machine, like the kind you get your quasi-coffee from at the waiting room of the ER. The Styrofoam cups were directly behind the carafes with the equally sorry looking lids. I saw a canister of powdered non-dairy creamer before I saw the liquid creamer cups underneath.

The best I can say is that at least the coffee was hot.

I retreated to the bench outside the building next door and removed said apple bread from the little white paper bag. I noticed the sugary glaze that covered most of the pastry and considered it rather unnecessary. Tearing off a warm piece and popping it into my mouth, I was greeted with a soft chewy fresh-baked texture, the sweetness of sugar, and the subtle savory kick of cinnamon. My next bite had a baked apple in it, syrupy and sugary. The bread was not as good as I had hoped for ( I had not anticipated much but I was still hopeful) but it was not entirely disappointing.

My visit to Agan's Bakery was a blow to my optimism. I left feeling cheated, aghast, and felt that this particular bakery was a sham. I could not, and still don't, believe that they didn't have croissants. Is that not a bakery staple? They didn't even have eclairs. All in all, this glorified donut shop should suck it up and change their name because it is incredibly misleading.

The Month of "Yes, You May"

I feel bad that I have committed adultery against my lovely little blog to have an affair with my moleskine. So I suppose I have to dust off the keyboard with one of those stupid cans of compressed air that they sell at Officemax. As you are fully aware, we are at the tail-end of May. Which is just so weird to think about because I don't remember nearly six months passing by so quickly ever.

Since my last entry, I have completed yet another semester at Kennesaw State University, changed my major twice, and received my first A in a college course. I maintained a B average for the semester which boosted my GPA a wee bit so I'm on track to get the HOPE back. I am now a declared English major, licensed to judge the rhetoric and grammar of others for the greater good of humanity. So mind your Ps and Qs and where you place apostrophes. I have also decided to go with a French minor! There are so many French people that come through my line at work that I get to practice with that I've decided to push myself some more into that department.

I'm still employed at Trader Joe's and have almost been there an entire year, working steadily (11 months on June 1st!). I have come to love my job a little more every single day because I get to be surrounded by food, help people on choosing between two different foods, interact with some of the cutest children on the face of the earth, and make being dorky really cool. My job has helped me grow as a person over the past few months, teaching me to get over myself, teaching me how to describe foods better, and helping me deal with all kinds of different people. I used to complain a lot about living so far away but now I make a conscious effort to not bring it up in a grouchy way because I know that a few of my past coworkers lived around the same area too.

My aforementioned April trip to Athens was an experience. I had never experienced a genuine college town, where everything is so centralized that I saw not even a sliver of the real world. The dorms were small and a little uncomfortable; they had to share a hallway bathroom; you had to have your palm scanned to get in the doorway. I know that I could never deal with that. I like to go out and do things, I enjoy having my own space, I like having a kitchen and not having to go to the dining hall to get food. I like having a real job with benefits and really great pay. But it was interesting to see how everybody interacted within their parameters. Helen took me clubbing which the only aspect I liked was the dress I purchased:



That's me with the napalm orange hair. And since about a week later from that, my hair has been bright green, an accident resulting from me wanting turquoise hair on a whim. My hair is now just blonde because the green faded quickly and is now so fried that it can't hold any color on its own. Go me.

As far as the little things go, life is really great. Graham and I are doing very well despite the fact that even though we live together, we don't get to spend much time together. But he's come up with some plans for future things so I have stuff to look forward to. I have realized that if we move out now, all the money I could be saving to go visit my father, to go to school for another semester, or do anything with will never be saved and will be squandered on a place that isn't worth my money. Plus, if we move closer to my job, our situation will be the same only reversed- Graham would have a farther commute and all kinds of other inconvienences. I know that it will upset my mother to know that I'm not even going to take her advice and move out on my own into a subleted house with people I don't know and try to be closer to work and school. I have a perfectly good home right here where I can help out and not feel pressured and where I can save my money. I just have to come up with a good way to explain to Mom this concept.

I guess I'm finished. I'll more than likely update in July. Cheers!