Shoes has a thing for soft, frosted sugar cookies. A big thing. Like, on our first Valentines Day, he made dinner reservations at a lovely restaurant and on the way over to my house to pick me up, stopped by the grocery store to pick up some simple flowers. But, on the way to flowers, he passed by the circles of deliciousness, forgot about the flowers, bought the cookies instead and showed up at my doorstep with a dozen sugar cookies.
The first Christmas we were together, I made a ton of Christmas sugar cookies, and they were a major pain in my rear. I cut them out, frosted them, destroyed my kitchen and came up with maybe 10 that were passable. The snowmen were the worst. The lines blurred together as the cookies cooked and they looked like big blobs of nothing. Sister Cheryl helped me that year and we tried again the two years after that. This year, when discussing our holiday baking day, she ever so sweetly said, "Do you think maybe we could do something this year that doesn't require frosting?" Amen, sister. Amen.
Still, I wrapped those cookies up and took them with me to the Vineyard Town a couple days before Christmas.
Upon seeing the plate, Shoes became EXTREMELY excited and said, "Circles of Deliciousness? You made me circles of deliciousnes?!" He ripped the wrapping off those cookies and then froze in silence when he saw them.
"Why did you make me Christmas ghosts?" he asked in a small voice.
I almost threw those sugar cookies outside.
When texting today about Christmas dinner, Shoes wrote, "Sounds good. With potatoes, and Christmas ghosts??"
I initially told him we would make Christmas ghosts together on Christmas Eve day, picturing this lovely day of baking and laughter and love and light.
I revise history in the most interesting ways.
Probably better just pick them up from Fred Meyer when I pick up the prime rib. Better to hold on to the merry and bright in the ways I know will work.