Wednesday, December 16, 2020

snickerdoodle sounds a little naughty

 I was glad I had on my giant down coat when I rounded the corner of the field. A nasty wind whipped at my cheeks but didn’t penetrate my parka, I’m not sure what the wind chill was but the thermometer was stuck at -13C. Yowzers. I am grateful that I’ve only had to unearth my winter coat today.



The last tray of cookies just came out of the oven - snickerdoodles, a crispy on the outside but chewy on the inside cinnamon cookie. I’ve never had one but was inspired when Santa said on the news it was his favorite - Santa must know what he’s talking about when it comes to cookies! I was pleased I took the chance when I took a bite (the baker has to test you know!). 


The freezer is starting to groan under the weight of all these cookies and I’ve run out of containers to put them in. I’m either in some sort of manic phase or determined that I’m going to keep demons at bay and that a shield of sugar and butter will do the trick.


Norwegian tradition is to make 7 (or is it 9) different kinds of sweets - today makes 4. I have two more kinds that I want to make so I won’t reach that magic number. Oh wait!!! I forgot one. So that will be 7. It will have to do.


Of course all this baking is feeding my food hoarding tendencies… the pantry and freezer must be stocked! I wonder if some ancient ancestors have passed a hibernation gene to me. My Scotish ancestors who settled on rough, rocky lands in Lanark would have had to struggle to get enough to eat over the winter and into the spring. My Norwegian great grandparents who settled in a desolate area of Alberta would have equally struggled. Such hardships surely influence the genome.


Carm was up bright and early this morning for his weekly trip into Costco… he’s been going first thing as it was getting too busy to go at other times and with Covid numbers up it’s not worth the risk. He said that he could have fired a cannon without hitting anyone, but I don’t believe him. I do appreciate his effort to soothe my worries.


I wonder when I will be able to indulge myself by browsing all the treasures, and they will seem like treasures as it’s been so long - scrolling through Amazon doesn’t quite cut it.


In the evening I watched a darling ballet performance by Freya and her classmates. Done over Zoom like so much this year, it was nice to see that the children had done so well despite the pandemic. Where there is a will there’s a way.



We went with an old favorite tonight. Mad Tom is a bitter IPA without being too hoppy. We haven’t had it for over a year so wanted to compare it to our new favorites. It was clear from the first sip that it was still in the top realm.



“As soon as a man and woman of almost any age are alone together within four walls it is assumed that anything may happen. Spontaneous combustion, instant fornication, triumph of the senses. What possibilities men and women must see in each other to infer such dangers. Or, believing in the dangers, how often they must think about the possibilities.”

~Alice Munro

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