The Great Cookie Massacre of 2019

The “cookies” in all of their “glory.” (PS David, I’ve moved from parentheses and semi-colons. Air quotes shall be my new “thing”!

A good friend, whom I think of as family, and I’m convinced thinks of me as the burden one endures after being overly kind to strangers (or possibly karmic punishment for something done in a past life – something he wish he could remember and desperately hoped was funny if he was forced to be saddled with me for life), suggested I actually post a photo of The Great Cookie Massacre of 2019. (FYI – you can tell I’m not ranting, because I’m writing more like Dickens approaching the first sentence/paragraph to A Tale of Two Cities. Do I get paid per word? (Maybe if my editor loves you, he’ll be able to do something with that sentence. No promises though. He’s only paid in praise and glad tidings. Are “glad tidings” a thing?))

Anyway, I believe I promised in the last post that were I to post about the cookies, then certain words/phrases would be used. I like to keep my promises so here we go! I aim to make Dickens proud, and you know, empty my tidings account for David. (Sorry David, my five readers are making me. you understand, right? It’s for them. Also hey, apparently parentheses are making another comeback. It’s like Shark Week, but y’know – Parentheses Era. That’s certainly a thing, right?)

If Dickens Lost His Senses and Ability to Write Properly-ish

The above photo, along with another photo, showing most of those cookies clumped up in the bottom of the oven, appeared on my FB page – posted there to get a laugh from my friends and give them the opportunity to tease me, because I truly live in an on-going I Love Lucy episode, and because I have a self-deprecating sense of humor (why keep the laughs at my life pratfalls all to myself) AND (this is super hard to write this way) despite having worked in a cookie store where I was quite the talented cookie baker (give me a hockey puck – not kidding – plastic gloves and cooled dough, then turn me lose whereby (sure) I’ll will produce little doughy circles of joy); however, I’d never used parchment paper to bake cookies until that day, AND on that fateful day when I decided to experiment for no particularly good reason other than my friend Eric suggested it while talking about baking bacon; he had no idea I’d decide to go the cookie route with it, I successfully pulled out one tray from the oven, then, with my confidence bolstered, I grabbed the next one – whoops – the parchment paper sledded off the tray along with the cookies as they all screamed “WHEE!” then plummeted into the bottom of my stove; I was aghast, then I cursed the cruelty of the universe for ruining perfectly great and undeserving peanut-butter chocolate-chip cookies (THE BEST COOKIES IN THE WORLD, as you know – also, did you know Blue Bell now offers up a peanut-butter cookie dough flavor – thank you, Julie for sharing that small delicious miracle – I haven’t had it yet, but how could it not be a miracle?)

Whew! We all survived my sentence. I’m fairly certain Dickens just eye-rolled from his grave or perhaps he scoffed. He probably did both. I deserve that, I suppose. (David, I’m speaking to you again – I forbid you to make that better. It’s beneath your talents! Let it stand in its awful glory. Also, I’ll try to be better about the parentheses thing. It’s hard to quit after you do your first set. The struggle is real.)

Anyway, there you all go! Proof that poor, innocent cookies were murdered in my oven. If we could all observe a minute of silence. Thank you! Also, thank you Jers for the suggestion. Love you! Mean it!

Right As Rain

First, a quick aside.  I hate Adele.  Yes, the singer.  It’s not really her fault, but there you have it.  Until this morning,  I couldn’t name a single Adele song, although I know I’ve heard her music on the radio.  I think she has a great voice.  I use the word “think” because I have no idea what she sings, but I know she won a ton of awards.  So, I’m trusting the opinion of the masses who helped her win all of those Grammys. Good for her!  Sing on you little golden throated warbler!

Where she and I got crossways – I tried to find a clip from The Matrix on YouTube featuring the character The Oracle.  Every time I entered my search parameters: “right as rain matrix” “matrix right as rain” “OMG really not Adele again matrix”, there she’d be –  Adele staring back at me.  I “grrr’ed”, she stared.  I “grrr’ed” more menacingly, and she stared some more.  It turns out it’s hard to intimidate a photo.  I conceded, “you won this round, Adele” and shook my fist at the monitor then dropped the whole “right as rain” from my search and added “cookie”.  “TAKE THAT, ADELE!!!  Haven’t written a song about a Matrix cookie, have you? HAH! I win! In your face!!”  I’d spike my mouse on the floor in celebration, but Jay would stare and blink then politely ask why that seemed necessary.  That would lead to me incomprehensibly blithering about Adele and ultimately end in more blinking and staring until he concluded I was insane and it would be better to just turn around.  “You may look away, but it doesn’t take away from the fact that Adele is a menace! A menace I tell you”  I can already hear the, “hmm” that would follow that bout of crazy.

Anyway, back to The Matrix and the real reason I was posting.

A few weeks ago, it occurred to me that I am The Oracle among my friends.  Well, if you take away the wise, clairvoyant, encourages balding children to bend spoons, and love of floral house dresses bits.  The two of us are practically twins.  I mean, I like cookies.  She likes making cookies.  You totally see this, right?   Where I got this idea? A friend of mine was recently having a hard time and my first thought was, “you know what? I should send her cookies”.  See, we have a great cookie shop here in town called Tiff’s Treats (they’ve also recently opened shops in Houston and Dallas) who deliver warm cookies and milk to friends in need.  It’s my go to whenever I hear someone is really having a bad day, because we all know cookies fix everything especially if they’re warm and accompanied by some cold milk.  For a little extra, they’ll even add a balloon.  Now, how could that not get your day back on track?  (In the past, I’d send balloons – those floating mylar ambassadors of joy then Tiff’s opened and its been cookies ever since that day.)  Granted, I’ve sometimes had to decide if the person in question and I are  at the cookie stage of our friendship.  Those can be tough decisions. Sometimes it’s apparent  “we’re more Snicker Bar snack treats from the candy jar friends.”  If we’re not quite that close, an email with a photo of cookies (or balloons) and some nice thoughts will do.  But, if we are cookie pals and they’re in the Austin delivery area, fresh-baked cookies are ordered and sent.

Now, the most recent person in my life having a rough time would not give me their address. I don’t know if they were so distraught that they thought my request for their address was really a request for their phone number or they didn’t want to tell me what name they were using at the place they were staying.  (I’m not kidding on that part; I know someone who uses different names.  Don’t ask.  I don’t.  It frees up brain space for thinking about ponies.)  So, she had to remain sad and cookie-less.  This is tragic.  How can one endure the sad without two dozen hot cookies ready to cheer them up and some cold milk with which to wash them all down? (Aside, not ending sentences in prepositions makes for some goofy sounding sentences even if they are technically correct.)

So, here’s what I say to you: If you’re having a bad day, you’re in the Austin area and you need cookies, make sure I have your address for both work and home.  I promise when you’re done eating them, you’ll feel right as rain.

YoutTube video link (sadly, can’t embed)  – Have a Cookie