Is it Wednesday?
17 hours ago
Growing an impossible garden at 7,000 feet.
Sometimes trouble comes in 3's. That, I can handle. That's just a poetic way to say life is pretty normal. Times when my world feels more like a sweater unraveling? Well, those are the proverbial times that try my soul.
Take this week, for instance... When the snow plow drove over my mailbox, L only needed 3 days to break the Christmas gift I bought her. And, my love of horses culminated in what is probably a slight concussion...
That's when I discovered the awful truth. Picassa, like everything Google, is so completely automated that any blithering idiot can use it without reading the instructions. Especially the fine print warning me that deleting a photo from Picassa ALSO DELETES THAT PHOTO FROM MY BLOG ENTRY.
At night, we've got a gorgeous tree.
Like when we braved heat, humidity and scary power tools.
I've never seen her happier, and since happiness is infectious, a little bit of her charm rubbed off onto me.
Ornaments hold all sorts of special memories ~ places we've been, people we knew and the people we used to be, way back when we decided to buy them.
When we learned how to fish and skate and ski.


And, ride horses....
Mistletoe is an odd plant and I won't get into the gory details. (Suffice to say there's a host involved and it's not the gal answering the doorbell.) Like most plants, it got it's powerful reputation for warding off evil spirits. And, it must work because I've never ever met an evil spirit - have you?
Strange but true: I've worked full-time, for eight years, with a man I've never met or even spoken to. That's because he lives in Moscow and neither one of us feel like affording that long distance bill.
* Dough will appear very dry. The warmth of your hands, as you form the snowballs, softens the butter and moistens the cookie dough.
Back when I had a real job... whenever I wasn't doing a good enough job... my boss would crab at my lack of creativity and accuse me of taking a cookie cutter approach. That was a confusing way to insult me because I've tried to make perfectly consistent cut out cookies since L was a baby and it's a whole lot harder than it looks.
This is my theory as to why most of us leave the creative cookie cutting to Pillsbury:
No matter how they look, they all taste delightful. This recipe makes 3 dozen average size cookies or 1 gigantic cookie sculpture (in case you'd like to pay tribute to Gaudi!)
And, over-achievers! Check out last year's Poinsettia. She's turning red without all the pomp & circumstance.

It is not possible to call off Christmas. On such years, when I would like to, I simply go through the motions and leave it at that.
L & her boyfriend spent the entire day decorating The Big Ass Tree. I wanted a big one, to make amends for last year's tree fiasco, but this is what happens when you have no concept of height. That tree barely fit in the door!
Friends, family, clients, co-workers, even a certain spoiled rotten horse will be happy I got snowed in.
I love to shop! I hate... standing in line, begging some snotty clerk for help, wasting the day in stop and go traffic, driving all over hell to buy the perfect gift only to discover it's sold out...
Hand me a speedy internet connection and I'll have that to-do list done so fast it'll make your head spin! All that's left to do, now, is reassure Bad Dog.
Even Benny.
For years I suspected my oven hated me. It would bake too hot, or broil too cold. Everyone accused me of being childish and immature for blaming the appliance.
If you can refrain from eating the cookie dough, this recipe makes 4 dozen.
Meet the Salad Shooter! It's also a mixer! This was the #1 Bad Holiday Gift 10 years ago. We've been limping along with this sorry excuse for a mixer ever since.
1.5 cups butter
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