so much for hibernation (also: cookies!)

I don't mean to keep summing up my life on a weekly basis, but it's been a bit insane around here since Thanksgiving. We've started on what I've taken to calling our "winter schedule," which is:

Monday: climbing
Tuesday: dancing (Latin and ballroom)
Wednesday: curling (for me)
Thursday: curling (for Pd)

And then Fridays and weekends off (except for the usual Saturday climb), except — inevitably — all of our social obligations get shunted on to these days, and at some point I just want to curl up in a corner and ... I don't know, sleep. I don't even have the energy to snarl any more. Most of my recent conversations go something to the effect of," Yes, yes, absolutely ... I'm sorry, I just missed the last five minutes, what?"

Which I'm sure is very endearing.

Anyway, I made cookies last weekend. I wanted to test the oven (somehow, our oven thermometre got lost in the move; it's really the only thing I've noticed missing), and turning it on without actually making something is such a waste. These are the cookies I used to make with my mom, when I was six. They've got good juju.


My mother has moved on to more sophisticated baking; I have not. I have a theory that, on the whole, one is either a natural cook or a natural baker, and I choose to be a cook. Probably because the first time I chose to be a baker, I burned the Muffins-For-Dummies. (You know, the premixed kind, where you add an egg and that's it? Yeah.) Or the time I tried to make shortbread, and it turned into a crumbly cake. I've had some spectacular failures in cooking, too, but I don't know — for some reason, baking failures are far more demoralizing.

Anyway, these ones are smaller than usual because I forgot how much they do (or do not, as it turned out) spread during baking. They're good, though. And I like them small; I make mini-muffins, too. I never want the entire muffin or cupcake or normal-portion of fudge anyway, and it's like knitting — if I'm going to make something and have control of the process, then I might as well make something I actually want.

Speaking of which, I also made my first "winging it" risotto from scratch last weekend. (Literally: I discovered midway through the process that the bacon had gone off, and there was no time to return to the grocery store.) I was very proud.