"Always keep your words soft and sweet,
just in case you have to eat them."
-- Andy Rooney
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| Smiley face cookies 5-27-13 |
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| Smiley face cookies (2) 5-27-13 |
"Life"
A crust of bread and
a corner to sleep in,
A minute to smile and
A minute to smile and
an hour to weep in,
A pint of joy to a peck of trouble,
And never a laugh
A pint of joy to a peck of trouble,
And never a laugh
but the moans come double;
And that is life!
A crust and a corner that
And that is life!
A crust and a corner that
love makes precious,
With a smile to warm and
With a smile to warm and
the tears to refresh us;
And joy seems sweeter
And joy seems sweeter
when cares come after,
And a moan is the
And a moan is the
finest of foils for laughter;
And that is life!
And that is life!
-- Paul Laurence Dunbar
I like baking cookies.
No, really, I do.
I have to be pretty desperate to bake cutout sugar cookies with frosting.
Like, up at 2 a.m., already lifted weights, already watched my all DVR'd episodes of "Restaurant Impossible" (Dear Robert Irvine, please come whip my life into shape) and "Best Ink" (yay, Teresa, you're my favorite!), none of the three books I am currently juggling are doing it for me, you-can't-break-me-I-won't-take-an-Ambien desperate.
Welcome to 2:49 a.m.
Cheerfulness can seem a little scarce at 2:49 a.m. when agitation and anxiety are churning on high.
Sometimes, when you're the only one up at 2:49 a.m., you have to rummage around in the cupboard and scratch together enough ingredients to bake your own batch of cheerful.
Like Albert sings in "Bye Bye Birdie," sometimes you've got to:
But let's be honest -- cutout sugar cookies with frosting are a real pain in the ass.
Too much fuss with the rolling and the cutting out and the rolling again.
And the cutting out.
Again.
They take too long and the cleanup is a drag -- all that flour everywhere.
And there's always that little bit of scrap dough that gets wasted.
And you have to make the frosting.
And you have to wait for the cookies to cool so you can frost them.
And nobody enjoys cleaning out a frosting-smeared pastry bag and piping tip.
Nobody.
I have to be pretty desperate to bake cutout sugar cookies with frosting.
Like, up at 2 a.m., already lifted weights, already watched my all DVR'd episodes of "Restaurant Impossible" (Dear Robert Irvine, please come whip my life into shape) and "Best Ink" (yay, Teresa, you're my favorite!), none of the three books I am currently juggling are doing it for me, you-can't-break-me-I-won't-take-an-Ambien desperate.
Welcome to 2:49 a.m.
Cheerfulness can seem a little scarce at 2:49 a.m. when agitation and anxiety are churning on high.
When everyone but me is snoozing peacefully.
When sleep feels like a half-step sideways, four steps back, way back, kind of affair.
Sometimes, when you're the only one up at 2:49 a.m., you have to rummage around in the cupboard and scratch together enough ingredients to bake your own batch of cheerful.
Like Albert sings in "Bye Bye Birdie," sometimes you've got to:
Take off the gloomy mask of tragedy,
It's not your style;
You'll look so good that you'll be glad
Ya' decide to smile!
Pick out a pleasant outlook,
Stick out that noble chin;
Wipe off that "full of doubt" look,
Slap on a happy grin!
And spread sunshine all over the place,
Just put on a happy face!
It's not your style;
You'll look so good that you'll be glad
Ya' decide to smile!
Pick out a pleasant outlook,
Stick out that noble chin;
Wipe off that "full of doubt" look,
Slap on a happy grin!
And spread sunshine all over the place,
Just put on a happy face!
Then go ahead and take that Ambien.
