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| Adios little man. |
My Mom used to start baking holiday cookies shortly before Thanksgiving. They would be hidden away in cool storage and doled out stingily in the weeks leading up to the holiday. If there were guests or family over, then you'd find a plateful put out. But Mom would have her eye on our greedy little hands. Without fail, as we finally rounded the corner on New Year's she'd release her grip and we'd get to dig into the remaining stocks of holiday cookies so carefully rationed for the previous 6 weeks. Needless to say, they were less than fresh but we were happy to have them.
I thought of this last night while watching the Rose Bowl and munching on the last gingerbread boy standing. Only about 3 weeks old, it had just the right texture and flavor to transport me back all those years. Stale, like then, but I was just as happy to have it. What a way to start the year!
And now, January 2nd, the cookies are gone, the house is swept clean, and today is finally just a plain old Wednesday. (Except it's my sister's birthday. Happy Birthday, Sue!)
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