Maybe you were not a Sesame Street kid, maybe you were. Regardless, I think most of us can recognize the scruffy blue rave leg warmers with spliced ping pong ball eyes that is Cookie Monster. (No, really. I did an oral report on Jim Henson in the fourth grade and still, to this day, recall that the original Kermit was constructed from his mother’s old green coat and a single ping pong ball. True story.)
At any rate, I am lucky enough to have taken today off to be at home with my four-legged children, the man I love, my sewing machine and of course, my stand mixer. You will not catch me out amidst the throngs, oh no, I’m staying home and creating shipping-friendly cookie doughs. I see some baked-with-love care packages going out in the future.
As you may have noticed, family is a big deal to me. Ask me once, I will tell you lovingly of my older sister, my eeeeestar, as I call her, and how I spent years emulating her and just wishing we could talk to each other like real people do. Push me a little further and depending on my mood, I might also tell you that I have three brothers, er, “brothers.”
Tris is the eldest, who coincidentally is also recently engaged and is a year and some change my senior. When I was still a baby, he would apparently go up to the nearest adult and say “Tina KY!” whenever I cried; my guess is that was his early attempt at “Can you please shut her up?” but it stuck as a nickname. Next there’s “Not Sean!,” who, don’t worry, I like just fine now and who I can thank for the nickname “Scrinina.” Erinn is the youngest who in my head is still somewhere between eight and fourteen but in reality, is now an interesting and well-faceted young man who is of legal drinking age. Sigh. Where does the time go? (And sorry to disappoint, but to my knowledge, no additional nicknames from that one.)
Regardless of time, one thing they have always loved – or at least, did a great job of pretending to love – were my homemade cookies. If I recall correctly, the ones that were the most coveted were the peanut butter chocolate chip variety.
We’re all pretty well grown now, but it’s nice to know that no matter the miles between us or months between conversations, we’re still family, we’re still weird and love each other just the same and we all still really like cookies. Vegan or not, cookies just feel like home. Homemade love. In shapes that may or may not be appropriate for minors. Yeah. Good stuff.
Cookies (and hopefully recipes, granted they turn out,) and more details to follow.