Here by popular demand: Toni’s Ghetto Biscotti
Ingredients: 1 package Tollhouse Chocolate Chip Cookie Dough
Directions: Place pre-cut cookies onto baking sheet. Cook…liberally.
For your viewing pleasure, I added to my January photo album. What you will see is Mia in her darkest, illest hour of cough and cold, and me, or at least my torso, as it looked today before we went out for the afternoon. I’m having a bad-bra day. Be kind.
I want a pea-shooter.
So that at night, when the dogs are biting/licking/chewing/sniffing/scratching/trying to get on the bed/whining to go out for the hundredth time/moving in anyway whatsoever/breathing even, I can swiftly sit up and blow tranquilizing darts at them. I’d even settle for small rocks–just enough for them to get the message. A pea-shooter would be better than my pathetic finger-snapping, or worse, my (loud) whisper "Shut the hell up!" A thrown pillow would probably work, but then there’s the issue of finding one, aiming accurately, and then retrieving it after I do or do not hit my target…come to think of it, thrown pillows don’t work at all.
Mia’s finally feeling better. She still has a little bit of a cough in the mornings and at nights, but her fever is completely gone and she’s got her voice back–and to think I couldn’t stand those 2 days of utter quiet. I took her to the library to get us out of the house today. She was stoked–when we got there a group of girls her age was playing over at the "princess table". Mia immediately went and plopped herself down among them, all decked out in her trademark "boy" clothes, completely out of place in a sea of pink jumpsuits, sparkly hair ribbons, and ballet shoes. I wasn’t aware that preschool girls were capable of such cattiness until today: "Why do you have a Spiderman sweatshirt on? We were sort of playing here, just us. You can watch over there." And, worst of all, "Your mommy has a fat belly."
Luckily Mia gave up on them fairly quickly and joined a group of righteous boys over at the train table. They quickly accepted her and were all sad to see her go when she left to give the girls one more try. Those scandalous little clones–everytime Mia got out a toy, one of them would take it from her and say something nasty, like, "No! This is what I was about to play with!" I don’t know where their parents where–I kept looking around but no one seemed to be taking an interest in their rude behavior. Whatever.
Speaking of being rude, I swear, it was like 500 lb. Amish mommy day–a whole troupe of them were parked in all the rockers, each one with a baby on her knee, and weighing more than those chairs were meant to hold. The height of my library time came with their departure–each mommy went to a random person in the children’s room and handed out a wicked awesome brochure for their church. I WAS THE ONLY PERSON to receive nothing. What the hell? I mean, sure, I sacrifice goats in my spare time, but they wouldn’t have known that just by looking at me. I don’t get it. I combed my hair. I actually remembered to brush my teeth, and I made a concentrated effort to keep my facial expression pleasant today. It wasn’t easy! Like daughter, like mother, I guess. It sucks to be snubbed.