Monday, December 13, 2004


the past 48 hours i've been a one woman cookie factory, not because i'm especially jolly (i need a game of pit perhaps?), and not because i'm particularly festive. i just like cookies. and the others like cookies, too. and they demand them. sacrificial gingermen. after the drinking of gloogaloog, or similarly spiced and heated wine beverages, we make oblation of the humanoid biscuits. also, i hear it is custom in certain european places to make at least 12 sorts of yuletide cookies lest something vague and unfortunate should occur. if there's one thing that gives me the shivers, it's the vague and unfortunate. so, i have made the gingermen. i have made speculoos (i made them with almonds, however unorthodox it may be). tonight, i begin constructing one of my all time favorite sorts of cookie: benne crisps. after that i think i'll start in on the lime melt-aways. and after that i'll lapse into a sugar induced stupor...or possibly ransack a small village. no. luckily, i haven't been allowed to eat many of the cookies i've produced. i have the unquenchable sweet-tooths of two strapping young guys to thank for that.

what has this to do with poetry? not so much.

also, we've been gifted with a moderate-sized crate of grapefruit. bee-yoo-tiful grapefruit. and they're tasty as all get out.


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