I love the way the house smells when I bake something that comes out right. These cookies are perfect every time I make them. Everybody loves them; the recipe comes from my great- grandma LaCapria. After making a batch I decide to go run some errands. I put the kids in the car and lock the doors. I go back in for one minute to grab some Christmas cards I forgot to bring over to work. My cell phone rings and I answer it as I'm walking back out. It's a wrong number, so I hang up as I'm closing the door. I just locked myself out. 
This is what happens when you've got too much going on at the same time in your brain. That's my problem today.
"Alright, let me think this through." I say to myself.
Two of the kids are asleep in the locked car which is parked in the driveway, and one is at school.
"I'm sure if I calmly try out all my possible options here I can resolve this problem," I think, as a cold rain trickles down from the sky.
At least my phone is in my hand.
First I jiggle the lock. Next I kick the door and curse. It's time to regroup. The kids are still asleep, and I call my husband on the cell. He works an hour away. He tells me break the lock.
"You're strong enough." He says.
Now, I know I have my strengths, and I can open just about any jar closed tightly, but he's been watching too much of Heroes.
"I can't break this doorknob." I say.
He's ready to leave work and drive home. I tell him I'll call him back. I check all the windows on the first floor, and I find one unlocked. The screen has a tiny hole, so I grab a stick and increase the damage until the screen is torn in half. Then I pop it out of the window and lay it on the ground. I try to hoist myself up onto the window ledge and I slip, falling into a pile of leaves. That's when I notice a policewoman slowing down in the cemetery driveway next door. She gets out of her car and approaches the fence. I'm brushing dog poop off my slacks, and trying to scrape it off my shoe with a stick. This window is right over Hell Hound's duty zone.
"Hi, I locked myself out. I'm trying to get in through the window." I say.
The cop looks cautious. She asks to see my driver's licence. I get snippy because I'm covered in crap.
"It's in my baby bag, which is in the locked car that also contains my sleeping children. I'm really in a jam here."
The cop is quiet for a moment, and as I listen to the sound of her radio I imagine myself jailed for neglect. I'm sure I saw that happen to a mom on Dr. Phil's talk show once. I start climbing into the open window again, because it's my house.
"Wait a minute, Ma'm. I'm looking at a ripped screen on the ground here and I need some proof that this is, in fact, your home. " The cop's bleached blond hair is pulled tightly into a bun.
I sigh. This is so stupid, and I hate being called "Ma'm." I motion to her, with one leg inside the house and the other hanging over the siding. She approaches me at the window.
"Take a whiff inside this house. What does it smell like?" I ask, exasperated.
"Cookies." she says.
"Right. Butter Cookies. I live here, and I just baked them. I appreciate your concern, but if you let me break into my house I'll give you a whole batch in a collectible tin." I say, forcing a smile.
Her face cracks into a grin. "Alright. Go ahead." She says.
So I fall into my house and Hell Hound rushes into the room, barking and licking my face.
"See, this is Hell Hound. Can't you tell I'm this dog's mother?" I say from the floor.
The cop laughs. I grab a tin of cookies and rip off the attached card addressed to the mail carrier. I hand it to the policewoman through the open window.
"Merry Christmas, Ma'm." she says, walking back to her patrol car.
"She should arrest herself for accepting a bribe." I say to Hell Hound.
Here's the recipe.
This is what happens when you've got too much going on at the same time in your brain. That's my problem today."Alright, let me think this through." I say to myself.
Two of the kids are asleep in the locked car which is parked in the driveway, and one is at school.
"I'm sure if I calmly try out all my possible options here I can resolve this problem," I think, as a cold rain trickles down from the sky.
At least my phone is in my hand.
First I jiggle the lock. Next I kick the door and curse. It's time to regroup. The kids are still asleep, and I call my husband on the cell. He works an hour away. He tells me break the lock.
"You're strong enough." He says.
Now, I know I have my strengths, and I can open just about any jar closed tightly, but he's been watching too much of Heroes.
"I can't break this doorknob." I say.
He's ready to leave work and drive home. I tell him I'll call him back. I check all the windows on the first floor, and I find one unlocked. The screen has a tiny hole, so I grab a stick and increase the damage until the screen is torn in half. Then I pop it out of the window and lay it on the ground. I try to hoist myself up onto the window ledge and I slip, falling into a pile of leaves. That's when I notice a policewoman slowing down in the cemetery driveway next door. She gets out of her car and approaches the fence. I'm brushing dog poop off my slacks, and trying to scrape it off my shoe with a stick. This window is right over Hell Hound's duty zone.
"Hi, I locked myself out. I'm trying to get in through the window." I say.
The cop looks cautious. She asks to see my driver's licence. I get snippy because I'm covered in crap.
"It's in my baby bag, which is in the locked car that also contains my sleeping children. I'm really in a jam here."
The cop is quiet for a moment, and as I listen to the sound of her radio I imagine myself jailed for neglect. I'm sure I saw that happen to a mom on Dr. Phil's talk show once. I start climbing into the open window again, because it's my house.
"Wait a minute, Ma'm. I'm looking at a ripped screen on the ground here and I need some proof that this is, in fact, your home. " The cop's bleached blond hair is pulled tightly into a bun.
I sigh. This is so stupid, and I hate being called "Ma'm." I motion to her, with one leg inside the house and the other hanging over the siding. She approaches me at the window.
"Take a whiff inside this house. What does it smell like?" I ask, exasperated.
"Cookies." she says.
"Right. Butter Cookies. I live here, and I just baked them. I appreciate your concern, but if you let me break into my house I'll give you a whole batch in a collectible tin." I say, forcing a smile.
Her face cracks into a grin. "Alright. Go ahead." She says.
So I fall into my house and Hell Hound rushes into the room, barking and licking my face.
"See, this is Hell Hound. Can't you tell I'm this dog's mother?" I say from the floor.
The cop laughs. I grab a tin of cookies and rip off the attached card addressed to the mail carrier. I hand it to the policewoman through the open window.
"Merry Christmas, Ma'm." she says, walking back to her patrol car.
"She should arrest herself for accepting a bribe." I say to Hell Hound.
Here's the recipe.
Grandma LaCapria's Butter Cookies
-
5 cups flour
-
2 cups sugar
-
5 eggs
-
2 sticks butter
-
1 tbspn baking powder
-
sprinkles
-
cookie cutters
-
mix sugar, flour and baking powder
-
dump mixture onto a large cookie sheet
-
make a hole in the middle and crack the eggs into it.
-
Add butter, softened, into the hole
-
Squish into dough.
-
Roll out and cut into shapes
-
Bake on greased cookie sheet for 8-10 minutes at 425 degrees.
By Loren Christie
Merry Christmas Everyone!
Cookies look so yummy Loren! Happy New Year :)
Posted by: Paula | December 27, 2008 at 12:36 PM