Rolling out the memories

Every year, every season, every holiday, our family would make cut out sugar cookies.  My mom has her own, and in my humble opinion, the absolute best recipe.  So many childhood memories are wrapped around making the dough, cutting the cookies, and creating a decorated mess of goodness.  During this process, became very adept at sneaking pieces of cookie dough.  (Mom always insisted that eating raw dough would give me worms.  I think she thought that would make me stop.  I was never fazed.)

About the time my brother and I moved out, my mom presented us with one of the best Christmas presents every…a link to the past and an invitation to future memory making.

To ensure that the family tradition would get passed along, for years my mom secretly bought cookie cutters and squirreled them away so my brother and I would have our own sets ready for our future families…AND guarantee we wouldn’t swipe any of hers on the way out the door!

I have gladly passed on the tradition to my own.  I smile widely every time I open the box to pull out the cookie cutters for that holiday or event.  In the kitchen, I pull out Peggy’s Cut-Out Sugar Cookie recipe…the flour flies and the memories flood my brain.

Yummy dough…can’t wait to swipe a piece behind her back.  Yes, I have told her cookie dough is HORRIBLE for her.  I can’t have her eating all my goods!

 

Roll baby roll, but don’t over roll…I don’t like them too thin!

Remember to flour those cutters, so the cookies don’t stick!

Cut the cookies as close to eat other as possible to get as many cookies as you can per roll!

Don’t place to cookies too close…you don’t want the cookies into each other.  Be careful with the sprinkles!

Rise baby, rise!

Time to clean up… guess that little bit of left over dough not big enough for a cookie will just need to go into my tummy… It wouldn’t be right to throw it away!

Time to dig in and enjoy!  They think they are just making yummy cookies….I know what we are really making!

 

 

 

 

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Payback

Kids…. They are our pride and joy… the apples of our eyes… those dirty, stinky, noisy monsters that keep messing up our clean houses!

Now, don’t get me wrong, I love my dirty, stinky, noisy monsters, but, seriously, how many times do they have to make the same messes and hear me give the same lectures before they get it???

I have decided that in addition to constantly nagging them (because, let’s face it, I’m not going to stop nagging them), I am also keeping a list of their annoying, messy habits, so that, when they move out, I can visit their homes and provide the appropriate payback.

Here’s what I have so far…

Open the bread bag.  Make a sandwich.  Leave the dirty knife stuck to the counter.  Place open bread bag back on the fridge.  Drop and lose twist tie to close said bread bag, so that bread will go stale.

Get out Oreos.  Pour a glass of milk.  Take everything to the living room.  Dunk and eat Oreos over clean floor, leaving behind crumbs and a half glass of milk balancing on the edge of the coffee table.

Go outside.  Leave door wide open, yet slam shut screen door.  Every three and a half minutes, come in and go out, slamming the door every time.

Go downstairs to get something (I don’t know what yet.  I’ll wing it.)  Turn on every light switch I can find, even ones not in the area I’m going, them come back upstairs, leaving all the lights on.  I might even add in turning on a TV for good measure.

Take a bath using WAY more soap than I need and filling the now half empty bottle back up with water to make it look like I didn’t use that much.  Step out of tub and soak bath mat.  Walk down the hallway with a towel around me, but not having really dried off, so as to leave a slippery trail behind me.  Leave dirty clothes, a tub full of water, and a “surprise” in the toilet for them to find later.  Get dressed and drop my wet towel on the carpet.

It’s going to be so much fun!

 

So when does the relaxing happen?

Ahhhh the weekend.  We all look forward to it, but I am seriously beginning to question why.  Since Friday afternoon, I have been on a non-stop run-fest.

It started with a phone conversation in which I heard my husband (who was packing his gear to leave for a video shoot) tell a different client, “Yup, I’ll get that right out to you.”  Which is code for; ‘my wife will get in her car and drive all the way across town to put it in your hands.’  He left for his shoot in one direction and I left in the other, while leaving the boy home with instructions to dress himself for his baseball game.  (I am ever so thankful that the children are old enough to stay at home!)  When I returned, we were off to the game.  As soon as the game ended, the boy and I rushed home to change out of our dirty baseball clothes into wedding appropriate attire to meet the hubby and daughter at a wedding half of us were late for.  Small talk, food, cake, smile, drive home eyes half closed and fall into bed.

Saturday, since I knew what the day had in store for me, I set my alarm for 6 am.  (Yes, that’s right, 6 am on a Saturday!)  I got in my workout and tried, as quietly as possible, to get as much of the house cleaning done before the rest of the house woke up.  When they finally opened their eyes, I squeezed out my traditional Saturday morning pancakes before enlisting the troops to finish up the Saturday scrub down.  We eked out the house cleaning with only 15 minutes to spare before we had to be out the door for another baseball game.  After three hours in 92 degree heat, full sun, and endless dirt to the face later, we left the fields with another win under our belts, but already late for the next event.

Home for a quick change, then off to cross the city to attend my grandfather’s 80th birthday party/family reunion.   Knowing that I’m already late and that I have to leave early for another appointment, I spent the time I was there walking around to visit with all the necessary family members, attempting to avoid being the subject of evil gossip for not mingling enough.  Tick tock, tick tock, time to rush to the opposite side of town (again) for my niece’s 10th birthday party.  (If only my grandpa and my niece from my husband’s side would have coordinated and planned their parties together…some people!)  This party we actually make on time.  Yeah me!  Visit, talk, eat, present, sing, cake.  (Side bar… cake was really ice cream cake.  I LOVE ice cream cake.  I skipped cake at the first party, banking on the ice cream cake being served.  Point for Kerry!)

As I finish my last bite of ice cream cake (mmmmm!), I look at my watch and realize that I have exactly 20 minutes before the pharmacy closes and I have a prescription to pick up.  After quick hugs and fast good-byes, we rush out the door.  I think I may have set land speed records on I-80…. I know I broke numerous traffic laws, but I ran to the pharmacy window literally 2 minutes before they closed.  I win!  (I win a pharmacy bill, but, hey, I won something, right?)

Home, sweet home with just enough time to make a cake (home-made, from scratch, chocolate cake…the absolute best cake ever) for my son’s birthday party tomorrow.  That means that tomorrow is party mode all day… prep, set up, party, tear down, clean up, fall over.

Who are these people who have these relaxing, unscheduled weekends?

Let them eat cake?

My daughter turned 12 on April 18th.  We, of course, had cake and parties and festivities.  It was all lovely.  As with most birthdays, there was cake left over.  There was a small wedge piece left over from one of her birthday cakes.  (Yes, I said one of her cakes.  She ended up with two this year.  One on her actually birthday, because it’s not really your birthday if you don’t have cake.  And one on the day of her party the following weekend.  I love baking and who doesn’t love cake!)  Anyhoo…. I shoved the leftover wedge piece of cake and the box into the garage fridge.  We had the party, life got crazy busy, and the cake was forgotten.

Three days ago, I was cleaning up in the garage and opened that fridge to see what could be pitched.  Hello old cake!  Goodbye old cake!  In it went, box and all, into the trash can for curbside pick up later this week.

Cut to last night.  After doing a little weeding and watering the flowers and garden, I pulled out the trash cans to haul to the curb in the morning.  I went around to the back of house to grab something, and, as I come around the corner, I found my darling son with lips and fingers smeared with frosting.

“Trystan!  That cake is a month old AND I pulled it out of the fridge three days ago!” 

“I was just trying it.”

Sure, just trying it.  Just trying month old, rotten cake to see what food poisoning is like.  My guess… it will be like a belated birthday present you don’t want and can’t return!