marching men

 I didn’t have Christmas music playing out loud, instead the refrain from a few random carols rattled around in my head as I mixed up the dough for Gingerbread. I used to have a really good recipe but I haven’t had the faintest recollection of where it was from for a few years. And stupidly I don’t remember how last year’s cookies were formulated either. Why oh why didn’t I save it in my recipe software or at least write it down on a recipe card.

I searched the internet for a recipe that I thought would have the right texture - not too soft, but not too hard either - and the right blend of spices. That’s important. I found one that sounded about right and saved it in my software right away.

The dough came together well, chilled in the fridge for almost an hour, then rolled out easily. Men were released from the dough with no dismemberments that couldn’t be easily fixed. They marched into the oven and finally lay in a row cooling on the counter. A few smaller trees joined them.

Taste test: good. Not as awesome as I remember my old recipe but those cookies are now mythical so of course it’s impossible to achieve anything even close ;-)

After the cookies were cooled and put away to rest before being slathered in icing and jujubes tomorrow, I headed outside with a giant pair of branch cutters to harvest two huge boughs from our Norwegian Spruce along the road. They are in the bathtub now, soaking in water for a day (as per Martha Stewart’s instructions). Monday I’ll set a Solstice scene on the table with lots of greenery, a multitude of candles and the rest of my fairy lights. 

I wonder how long they’ll stay fresh enough to keep their needles?

I’m loath to admit it, but we got an electric collar for Adia. She’s a great dog in most aspects but has one disgusting habit that we haven’t been able to break… she eats Spike’s poop, and even worse, her own. A glimpse of her with shi& stuck between her teeth and smeared on her nose is enough to make me wretch and certainly doesn’t make us feel loving towards her. So, the big guns. Today is day two. She’s been caught a couple of times, but probably hasn’t made the connection yet.

A bright IPA with a mid-range of citrus poured out of the can today. It was nice with the spicy buffalo chicken chili that we had for supper. I think it’s good enough to make the top tier favorite list. 

“There was a danger whenever I was on home ground. It was the danger of seeing my life through other eyes than my own.

Seeing it as an ever-increasing roll of words like barbed wire, intricate, bewildering, uncomforting—set against the rich productions, the food, flowers, and knitted garments, of other women’s domesticity. It became harder to say that it was worth the trouble.”

~Alice Munro