S. and I made Christmas cookies on Saturday. It went pretty much like it always does, which is to say that we meant to start at 11 am but I didn't get to her house until 12 and she had gone to the farmers' market and H., her roommate, dropped a crockpot in the sink and sliced her finger open just as I arrived and after S. got back we spent half an hour deciding what to do and an hour and fifteen minutes going to urgent care for stitches and after that we still had to go to the store, which was crowded on a Saturday afternoon, and we forgot a couple of things, so S. had to go back in the store while I sat in the car and frantically crammed roasted red pepper hummus and cracked black pepper triscuits into my mouth because it was 3 by then and I hadn't eaten since breakfast and when we finally got to the K.'s house her mom was about to put other cookies in the oven and by the time we finished six recipes of cookies (five drop, one roll and cut) and I grumpily frosted the last of them with pain shooting through my back from all the leaning over, it was 12 am and freezing rain for the drive home and the frosted cookies weren't even dry yet, so I left them on cookie sheets on top of the C0rvette in the K.'s garage and it took S. until Tuesday to get them back to me because she kept forgetting them places and she texted me earlier that day saying, "I ruined the cookies," but it turned out that they were fine, it was just the way the glaze dried around the sprinkles.
So it was fun.
Now I have a freezer full of cookies that I just literally cannot resist. Trust me, I try. When I talked to A. earlier, she said, "You never have been able to resist the icebox cookies [our old family Christmas cookie recipe], have you?" I have resorted to keeping a cookie tally in my little notebook I carry around, hoping the guilt of marking, oh, ten cookies a day in the tally will slow down my consumption.
It doesn't. Christmas cookies are my nutritional downfall. Delicious white flour and sugar. It's a good thing they exist only three weeks per year.
So it was fun.
Now I have a freezer full of cookies that I just literally cannot resist. Trust me, I try. When I talked to A. earlier, she said, "You never have been able to resist the icebox cookies [our old family Christmas cookie recipe], have you?" I have resorted to keeping a cookie tally in my little notebook I carry around, hoping the guilt of marking, oh, ten cookies a day in the tally will slow down my consumption.
It doesn't. Christmas cookies are my nutritional downfall. Delicious white flour and sugar. It's a good thing they exist only three weeks per year.
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