Cookies are for Christmas


It’s hard for me to believe that I’ve been writing this blog for almost nine years now.  The third story I ever told here was about a high-school girlfriend named Leslie.  I was reminded of that blog post, and of Leslie the other day because I have been baking, and eating too many chocolate chip cookies leading up to Christmas. 

The cookies reminded me of Leslie because when I was a Freshman in college, long after we broke up, she sent me a box full of delicious, homemade cookies.  She didn’t want to rekindle something between us that had never really caught fire in the first place.  She said she felt like baking, and didn’t want the cookies to go to her hips.  So, she sent them to my hips, instead.  I gained a few pounds eating those cookies.  I’ve also gained two or three pounds eating the cookies I made this week. 

Leslie and her husband invited Saint Karen (who must be a saint to put up with me) and me to their place in New Jersey during the first year we were married.  I don’t think I’ve seen them since.  While I hope they are well, and have had a happy life, I don’t know where they are.  If I did, I’d send the cookies I made this week to Leslie’s hips so I wouldn’t eat the rest of them.

Revenge is sweet; so are cookies.

Author: Tom

I know by ABC's, I can write my name, and I can count to 100.