I May Not Bite You, But My Peeler Makes No Promise

During my brief trip to the grocery store, I noticed that they’ve installed a gourmet cheese section stocked by an artisan cheese maker who has a store around the corner from my house. From this, I am extremely upset. I already have to avoid the cheese maker because I can’t be tempted by the delicious expense of it, and now I have temptation right there in my regular store too. It’s not fair, I tell you. Not! Fair!

In any case, this particular grocery store, as grocery stores are wont to do, plays terrible music that should truly never be subjected to law-abiding humans. The song I heard there this afternoon had a lyric that went, “Stop running away, I promise I won’t bite you.”

The fuck?I failed at cookies. Sob. I tried to make hamentaschen (triangular jam-filled sugar cookies used to celebrate Purim, which is Friday) but, alas, I failed. I’m so ashamed. Send me back to kindergarten.

First, I had to run out halfway through the first batch of dough because seriously, I could have sworn that the stuff in the orange box was baking powder. Nope. The stuff in the orange box, which I have two boxes of in my fridge, is baking soda. No problem. The store’s just down the block. I went and got the powder. On we go.

Problem number two: while the first batch of dough was chilling and I was starting on the second batch, I sliced the hell out of my finger. For this, I blame whichever gene (or lack thereof) made me into a lefty. Vegetable peelers and lefties? Do not get along! All I wanted was a little bit of orange peel, and instead I lost half my pinky. I ran to the bathroom and cursed like a motherfucker, because that shit hurt. I always laugh when I read that lefties are more likely to die in completely random accidents, but I’m starting to think that there’s some truth to it. You don’t want to know how many times I’ve hit myself in the face with a cabinet door. In any case, four bandaids and a double layer of latex gloves later, I was back in business.

And now, the real clincher. My cookies? Sucked. The dough tasted great, and they looked pretty before they were baked, but all of the seams fell apart in the oven and leaked strawberry juice on to my poor defenseless cookie sheet. I tried the next batch, making extra sure that all of the seams were sealed with water and whatnot, but clearly my hamentaschen were not meant to be. Now, I have thirty cookies that are entirely too ugly to ever present to anybody, but entirely too tasty to throw in the garbage. What ever shall I do?

All I know is, if I get a D in sandbox? I’m outta here.