The Cookies and the Snowstorm
This afternoon I did something that I have not done in around twenty years. And it made me very happy.
Around three in the afternoon I was ready for my afternoon walk through the Enchanted Forest. Very near my new apartment is a nature trail that I love taking walks on. When I talk about it to my granddaughters I refer to it as the “Enchanted Forest” in hopes of getting them excited about it. Sadly, it doesn’t work. I have taken them for walks on the nature trail but to my intense frustration they just do not find taking a walk through nature as exciting as playing video games on their goddamn smart phones.
So I usually take my nature walks alone. But this afternoon I looked out the window and saw that the snow was coming down rather heavily. I like taking a walk through a freezing ass snowstorm as much as the next guy but I had already gone for one frigid walk today earlier before it started snowing.
I wanted to do something in the cozy warmth of my new apartment. So, for the first time in around twenty years I decided to bake cookies.
Back when I was a stay-at-home mommy/daddy I used to bake bread all the time. I baked cakes. I baked pies. And I baked cookies. I was a veritable Martha Stewart with a beard and hairy chest. (I apologize for that ghastly image.) I loved baking and cooking for my girl and my little family. It was a good thing.
But when a girl starts turning into a woman a daddy who bakes her cookies is not exactly what she is looking for. So I slowly stopped baking stuff. Once I was living alone I hung up my apron.
But the idea of baking cookies got stuck in my noggin and I could not shake it. Every time I looked out at the falling snow the urge intensified. So I got out my very old ragged copy of The Joy of Cooking and searched for a cookie recipe that I happened to have all the ingredients for. All I could find was a recipe for some kind of sugar/cinnamon drop cookie.
So I rolled up my sleeves, turned on a Hilary Stagg harp CD as well as the oven, and I turned my new kitchen into, The White Feather Bakery. (I no longer even own an apron so if I got flour all over my clothes then so be it.)