I made them. For four hours I mixed, rolled, cut, frosted the snowmen, the trees, the bells, the ... candy canes. And then I got tired of making them and 20 cookies later, threw away the rest of the dough.
Yes, I DO think dough grows on trees. Or it multiplies in the bowl, pulling a holy Loaves and Fishes act.
Shoes was very grateful for his cookies of deliciousness. Genuinely so. He picked one up and looked at it, scrutinized it carefully and said, "You made me a Christmas Ghost?" (It was obviously a snowman, however. Obviously). But that's ok. Shoes got in the Christmas spirit himself and decorated for Christmas:
A Christmas Totem Pole. It was bequeathed to him by his late great aunt as part of his inheritance. We mean no disrespect to the totem pole. It is just that he did not at all want to buy a Christmas Tree for just him (remember, we now live 4 hours apart). That's creepy, he says.
I told him the truth:
This no Christmas Tree thing lasts as long as we're not in the same town. And for Heaven's sake, quit calling my snowmen ghosts.
not quite a postscript: what you must know about Shoes is that from the moment I stepped foot in the vineyard town to the moment I left, I was taken care of, pampered and loved. He is a keeper, despite his penchant for making fun of my cooking.