Cookie Dough

Remember when you were a kid and you got roped into selling things for your PTA, your band, your varsity team or your scouting group? You’d go door to door trying to hock things like oversized candy bars for a dollar – the kind of candy that tastes like cocoa flavored dirt and that anyone else with two working synapses could buy for fifty cents.

Now at my house I had the kind of parents that didn’t take my stuff to their work. They had some crazed idea that I, of all people, should sell it myself and earn the rewards. They didn’t understand that everyone else’s parents were doing it. In fact, if you ever tried to argue that point you’d likely get “well, if everyone else did…” (insert here something ridiculous that no one in their right mind would do) “…would you do it, too?” No, of course I wouldn’t do that because that’s silly.

Off I’d go door to door mostly pushing Girl Scout cookies. “Hi I’m Beth, I’m with Troop 105 and I’m wearing this stupid beret and ridiculous get-up so you’ll feel sorry for me and buy some Thin Mints.” Needless to say I didn’t win sales scout of the year. I remember helping my cousin sell spices in a box; I’m sure it was some cruel punishment devised by my mother and aunt. These weren’t any old spices, these were exceptionally large bottles – the kind giants use to spice up whatever it is giants eat. Kim lugged this box door to door and tried to sell spices for her school’s PTA. Let’s just say I don’t remember a lot of big spice enthusiasts on our spice circuit.

As the years have passed I’ve noticed the fundraiser businesses that provide the product to the schools have really branched out. Typically I can count on being offered seasonal wrapping, house hold knickknacks, flavored popcorn, magazines and of course cookie dough. Now, I’m a sucker for cookie dough. I don’t care that I never ever see the kid selling it or that those little lazy leeches are getting their prizes thanks solely to their parents. These fundraising saints who bale out their kids by hanging up signs in their cubicles and buying 30 cases of Girl Scout cookies so Suzie can go to camp – they aren’t teaching their kids values, but they’re the people to turn to if you need a sugar high or there’s an apocalypse and you just need a Snickers.

This year I bought cookie dough. Let me say right now that if I wanted cookies, I would have seen a Girl Scout. God created the cookie dough and the spoon for a reason and it would be wrong of me to turn my back on that by placing globs of dough on a cookie sheet and ruining them in the oven. Anyway, the cookie dough peddler comes to my office today and asks if I’ve made cookies. I look at her like she’s deranged and ask what she’s talking about. She then tries to carefully explain how cookies can be made from the dough. I’m still staring at her like she sprouted a third head (we won’t talk about the time she sprouted the second). Finally, she gives up on me and says that she’ll bake cookies for me and Jay so we can understand. Oh joy of joys.

See, here’s the thing or maybe it’s the other thing about cookie dough. The cookies that you can make from pre-made dough are edible and sometimes edible is good, but the unmolested dough on a spoon is delicious. Why would you ever want to bake it?

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