Thursday, December 17, 2009
Sugar Cookies, Eggnog and Me
This post is from 2009's Grinch of the Year, Kim Smith. Before I get started, if you are interested in acquiring a FREE PDF of a cookbook called Kissin' Don't Last, Cookin' Does that the authors at my publishing house put together, drop me a line. Okay. On with the post. Be forewarned, I am a good Grinch. I have had a lot of practice.
Have you ever noticed how the closer it gets to Christmas, and the less you have done toward the big day, the more people you know come out of the woodwork to check on your progress?
Case in point: lady in line at grocery (I will call her Mrs. Elf as she surely must be one of Santa’s helpers)
Elf: Hi there. I see your basket is filled with … oh no, maybe not. Where’s your sugar cookie dough?
Me: Um. I don’t make sugar cookies.
Elf: No? NO! You cannot be a Scrooge! It’s Christmas! Where’s your spirit?
Me: (in my best Garfield voice) I left it at home.
Elf: What? What about eggnog?
I shake my head no. She shakes her head at my dilemma.
I mean why is it that so many people think they have to remind you that you are lacking in the Christmas Spirit department? What’s worse is they usually are all dolled up in their holiday finery complete with jingle bells on their ears or hats or God forbid their shoes.
Usually Mrs. Elf will spend a long time tut-tutting your lack, and begin telling you very smugly how she is all ready for the big day with gifts bought, wrapped, and under the fully decorated tree beside the gaily donned fireplace. Sigh.
I do not down her for her holiday festiveness. I don’t. But I would love it if maybe I didn’t have to be reminded that I am not quite there yet.
I will get there. Probably this weekend. I will be the twinkle twinkle little star of Christmas cheeriness soon. Just let me ease into it, for crying out loud!
I am going to get there. I swear I am. I will donate to a charity. I will deck the halls with boughs of holly. I will kiss someone under a mistletoe and I will be home for Christmas. But first, I have to find my wallet, my brain, and my mace because it is sure that if I meet MR. ELF on this last foray into the countdown to the big day, he will be dressed in a red suit with a white beard and be singing something about his red-nosed reindeer. Saints preserve us.