Cookified State

The Haul

The NFL Red Zone arrived with its inevitable medicinal effects and allowed me the necessary recovery time from my weekend spent celebrating the kickoff of the Christmas Party season. I needed the respite. Since the Patriots weren’t playing until last night I was allowed the required time to repair the damage I’d inflicted on my poorly abused (danced out) legs and liver. My wife was not similarly afflicted and was fully into preparation for her annual Christmas cookie baking extravaganza.

The Kitchen Reconfigured with the Island We Purchased Specially For the Cookie baking Season

This is one of her many activities that I wholeheartedly endorse and seek ways to assist in the creation of her annual masterpieces. It also serves as a fond connection back to my mother. While my wife and mother were not huge fans of each other in a lot of areas (the old – no woman is good enough for my son syndrome) my mother is the one who taught my wife about Christmas cookie baking. A hot oven for an entire afternoon isn’t something generally pursued in the tropics (go figure) so this was all new to my Favorite Panamanian. She always pauses in the midst of baking to remind me how much she appreciates my mother teaching her this tradition. Mom gets a tough break in a lot of the memory departments so it’s comforting to remember something so profoundly positive.

Coming Out of Oven

She went right for the heart yesterday starting with my favorite – the venerable Peanut Butter Blossom. This has been a staple for my Christmas for as long as I can remember and it’s telling that both my wife and my younger sister (who also studied at my mother’s oven) both still make these for Christmas. The legacy is intact for another generation as the Favorite Son and the ABFA reported making their own batch of blossoms yesterday.

So we had a house filled with football yesterday with the smell of Christmas cookies baking competing with the Christmas tree scent and the odd Buddy emissions; that’s as close to Nirvana (except for the whole emissions part) as I’m likely to get. Speaking of the Wonder Pooch he once again succumbed to the annual holiday indignity of the decorative scarf. What is about women who feel the need to adorn proud, majestic canines with silly looking holiday wear? We commiserated together but there was no way I was going to object – I mean she was making cookies!

Buddy Sulking in Scarf

We came up for air in the evening when the next door Mafiosos had us over for dinner which we shared with their children and grandchildren. It provided my wife with a much needed break from the oven and also a grandchild fix. My daughter sent us a video that compiles one second for each of our granddaughter’s first thirty days in the world. It was more than a little captivating. I was going to share it here but it’s more appropriate for friends to see on Facebook where Wingman posted it. So check out my daughter or Wingman on Facebook to see thirty days of perfection personified.

Granddaughter was Ready for Game - Go Pats!!!

When I wasn’t running to the kitchen to answer the oven timing bell and remove the latest batch of cookies I took in the Patriots return to form last night in Houston. This was the Patriots team that had been sadly absent for the last game and a half. They imposed their will on a Houston team with a lot of Patriots bloodlines. I was worried that would assist them in getting ready for the Pats but it was obvious from almost the first part of the game that the Mojo lacking for the past couple weeks was back.

Welcome to the Terror Zone

The return of the Gronk certainly helped but it was much more than that – it was all about attitude. It was the big brother beating up on the less talented but upstart brother – reminding him about the hierarchy of the NFL food chain. The apex predator still resides in Foxboro, despite the most ardent wishes of the NFL offices in New York and their ESPN lackeys. 

You've Been Gronked!