It won’t be pretty

First, congratulations to Joan Oliver Emmer, winner of the great cookie giveaway. Joan was chosen at random from the website’s subscribers to receive two dozen homemade cookies of her choice. I’ll be baking the cookies tonight, just in time to eat the broken pieces before my first Weight Watchers meeting tomorrow. Hurray, Joan!

A friend of mine once told me that anything worth doing, is worth doing half-assed. I’ve taken that to heart. That’s how I found myself slumped down in a beat-up Plymouth Sundance, an Ikea bookshelf wedged in and sticking out over my head, with my daughter crumpled up on the back floor in the only available space. Halfway home I heard her announce, “I feel so ghetto.” Obviously, I didn’t think that one through. Continue reading

Are the cookies done Yeti?

I remember my apron in the closet right after I’ve stirred a batch of cookies or finished kneading bread dough. Since I’m not a neat baker, I generally end up with flour all down the front of my fuzzy red bathrobe. The robe emphasizes my wide butt and post menopausal belly, giving the effect of an abominable snowman with a sunburn. And why is it that I always wipe my hands on my butt, leaving big white handprints on my generous ass? Continue reading