cookies

In my brain, the storm-signal flags are at ‘PHE hurricane warning’ level: instead of black-on-red squares, blue-on-white squares with little penguins at the bottom. Not to mention the little dusty white fingerprints from the all-purpose flour I’ve been going through like water.

Oatmeal cookies? Check.
Gingerpeople? Check.
Molasses spice cookies? Tomorrow.
Chocolate chip cookies? Not gonna bother until Saturday and Sunday.

Yep, gingerpeople. They’re androgynous, chubby little things. Yet strangely delicious when you bite their little heads off. (Remember, if you don’t give the cookies mouths, they can’t scream when you do that.)