I am not getting squat done at work today. I keep thinking about Christmas cookies.
Yesterday I made a double batch of gingerbread dough. That takes 14 cups of flour, in case you were wondering! I divided it in eight parts, rolled them up in waxed paper, and tied a gingerbread-man cookie cutter onto each package with red ribbon. That's what my Young Women are getting for Christmas. Very Martha Stewart, ja? I saved some for my family. We'll make our little men for Family Home Evening tonight and talk about the miracle of Christ coming to earth as a human being. (Nice object lesson, too! So far today I am brilliant, although not at anything I am really supposed to be doing!)
I also want to make pumpkin fudge, turtle thumbprints and saltine toffee. And maybe sugar cookies, although two kinds of cutout cookies is a lot of work.
The question is ... when? And what in heaven's name will I do with them all? I am still Body-for-Lifing. This weekend I fit in some cute lowrider boot-cut red ticking-striped flannel pajama pants that my skinny sister in law gave me for Christmas two years ago. I have never been able to wear them until now.
So why are the cookies calling, calling, calling my name???
Gingerbread is low in fat. I could eat it with some cottage cheese, I guess, for a balanced meal. Yum ... not.
Free day is Sunday ... free day is Sunday ... free day is Sunday ...