Cookie Cutter Quotes

The cookie cutter shark can detect electric pulses, using this ability to catch its prey. Laura wonders whether she will ever feel electricity.

I like to save things. Not important things like whales or people or the environment. Silly things. Porcelain bells, the kind you get at souvenir shops. Cookie cutters you’ll never use, because who needs a cookie in the shape of a foot? Ribbons for my hair. Love letters. Of all the things I save, I guess you could say my love letters are my most prized possession.

Anya looked upon Nin admirably. Having him as a partner-in-crime—if only on this one occasion, which she hoped would only be the start of something more—was more revitalizing than the cheap thrills of a cookie-cutter shallow, superficial romance, where the top priority was how beautiful a person was on the outside.

The Ad♥rkable Manifesto 1. We have nothing to declare but our dorkiness. 2. Jumble sales are our shopping malls. 3. Better to make cookies than be a cookie-cutter. 4. Suffering doesn’t necessarily improve you but it does give you something to blog about. 5. Experiment with Photoshop, hair dye, nail polish and cupcake flavours but never drugs. 6. Don’t follow leaders, be one. 7. Necessity is the mother of customisation. 8. Puppies make everything better. 9. Quiet girls rarely make history. 10. Never shield your oddness, but wear your oddness like a shield.

It was as though the darkness was a sheet of raw cookie dough and someone had just taken a cookie cutter and made a child-sized shape out of it.

She grins and links her hand through mine. "That right there,' she whispers. "I want you to hold on to that. No matter what happens, you remember that this world is more than the agony it contains. We can have happiness, Salama. Maybe it doesn't come in a cookie-cutter format, but we will take the fragments and we will rebuild it.

Don't worry about offending people. Any time you write something thought provoking, some idiots will complain, because they hate it when you make them think.

Life goes different ways for different people. Some people’s lives are formed by a cookie cutter and some are immediately tossed from the kitchen.

You can't control another person's agenda. You can only be clear about your own.

She consoled herself with the thought that she looked terrifying.

Well, that was sort of offensive, as if being alone with me was equivalent to drowning while being nom nom'd on by cookie cutter sharks

There isn't just one cookie cutter in the shape of stardom, my friend; it comes in many sizes and colors. You just have to map out your own destination to it.

He handed me a bandana. "Tie that on." "Why?" I said, but I did it anyway. "Norman, you are way too into ceremony." "It's important." I could hear him moving around, adjusting things, before he came to sit beside me. "Okay," he said. "Take a look." I pulled off the blindfold. Beside me, Norman watched me see myself for the first time. And it was me. At least, it was a girl who looked like me. She was sitting on the back stoop of the restaurant, legs crossed and dangling down. She had her head slightly tilted, as if she had been asked something and was waiting for the right moment to respond, smiling slightly behind the sunglasses that were perched on her nose, barely reflecting part of a blue sky. The girl was something else, though. Something I hadn't expected. She was beautiful. Not in the cookie-cutter way of all the faces encircling Isabel's mirror. And not in the easy, almost effortless style of a girl like Caroline Dawes. This girl who stared back at me, with her lip ring and her half smile - not quite earned - knew she wasn't like the others. She knew the secret. And she'd clicked her heels three times to find her way home. "Oh, my God," I said to Norman, reaching forward to touch the painting, which still didn't seem real. My own face, bumpy and textured beneath my fingers, stared back at me. "Is this how you see me?" "Colie." He was right beside me. "That's how you are.

But that’s the thing about mental illness; there’s no such thing as a cookie-cutter diagnosis. We’re all crazy in our own special way. Some of us just have it worse than others.

I am opposed to Naperville. It's all cute, trendy and expensive, and filled with cookie-cutter Borg houses that assimilate you into upper-middle-class America.

Witchcraft is never cookie-cutter. Like recipes from a book, the recipes are often tailored to individual tastes as long as the general formula and steps are understood.

But then she says, "What if we use our cookie cutter to make heart-shaped pancakes instead? And put in red food coloring?" I beam at her. "Attagirl!" So maybe she's got a little bit of me in her after all. Kitty continues. "We could put red food coloring in the syrup, too, to make it look like blood. A bloody heart!

Forgiveness, by its nature, must often go into very hard places. I know. I’ve gone there. But forgiveness is not foolish and blind, an unthinking make-nice. Wisdom sometimes must tell even people who’ve genuinely forgiven to take ongoing steps that are hard to implement and apply and which to others may not look very forgiving. The heart of forgiveness can’t be judged in black-and-white, cookie-cutter dimensions that work fine in a spiritual lab but not in real life.

Elle slammed the reindeer cookie cutter down and viciously yanked the extra dough from around it. Her mother, brother, and sisters all stopped to stare at her. “Whoa. Put the reindeer down gently and step away from Santa,

forward-thinking teachers and school administrators across the country are creating a whole range of alternatives to cookie-cutter teaching and evaluation methods, such as the use of student portfolios and exhibitions in addition to conventional exams to assess students' progress.

. . . New York doesn't leave a lot of time for pondering forks in the road. People who have paused to gather their wits often find themselves suddenly waking up in a cookie-cutter beige apartment in Hoboken. I will not ever leave New York. I don't know how long it takes to become a true New Yorker, but I assume that if I die here ... that would qualify me.

I don’t have cookie-cutter relationships, Rumi. Women aren’t iPhone apps that I download and discard!

He glanced at Megan’s mother, his gaze allowing for no argument. “This woman by my side is the woman I want to marry, exactly as she is right now. I don’t want her transformed into some cookie-cutter Barbie doll, so don’t you dare try to do it.

I want you to hold on to that. no matter what happens you remember that this world is more than the Agony it contains. we can have happiness , salama. may be it doesn't come in a Cookie Cutter format but will take the fragments and we will rebuild it

            Tempting as it may be to draw one conclusion or another from my story and universalize it to apply to another's experience, it is not my intention for my book to be seen as some sort of cookie-cutter approach and explanation of mental illness, It is not ab advocacy of any particular form of therapy over another. Nor is it meant to take sides in the legitimate and necessary debate within the mental health profession if which treatments are most effective for this or any other mental illness.             What it is, I hope, is a way for readers to get a true feel for what it's like to be in the grips of mental illness and what it's like to strive for recovery.

No matter what happens, you remember that this world is more than the agony it contains. We can have happiness, Salama. Maybe it doesn’t come in a cookie-cutter format, but we will take the fragments and we will rebuild it.

There are all these relationships that are like cookie cutter shapes; identical and repetitive. Then there are all these relationships that aren't even relationships! Just facades for show and tell. But every once and a while, you'll see this bird breaking out of this cage and it's so weird and it's so obscure and you've hardly ever seen it before so you don't even know at first if you should name it Ugly or Beautiful! Relationships, stories of love, that just shatter the walls around the mind. They made it. They broke through. Like Ugly-Beautiful birds bursting forth from rusty cages! And then suddenly you stop and you think to yourself, "Maybe love really is real.

I think future generations are going to look back at our time period and call this the Age of Narcissism.

there are no cookie cutters in heaven.

Cookie cutters are for baking, not branding.

Ten short years ago, nobody had ever heard of a selfie. But today every decent cell phone has not one but two cameras, so you can take idiotic duck face pictures. And don't forget the billion dollar selfie-stick industry. Capitalism has found a whole new way to turn our vanity into profit.

I want us to understand that nuance is freeing and freedom. There is no such thing as cookie-cutter healing. Everyone brings with them an origin story, a history, and identities that are interconnected. There is room to rest in the freedom of managing your own deprogramming journey. It is never either/or and always both/and. You don’t have to grind, hustle, accept burnout as normal, and be in a constant state of exhaustion and sleep deprivation. You don’t have to kill yourself spiritually or physically to live a fruitful life.

College is the grinding machine of the Mathematical Establishment, a conveyor belt that takes individuals from one cookie cutter to another so that the product comes within tight control limits out of the assembly line.

The last thing this world needs is another self-help or feel-good faith book, seven simple steps to whatever. Just the thought makes my stomach turn. The truth is that life is far too complex to be put in a box, labeled, and have the appropriate manual attached. I wonder, have these people who seem to have all the answers ever really experienced hardship or grief, true joy, or adventure? Have they ever really lived? For those of us who venture outside the cookie cutter lives that many settle for, a superficial, plastic faith with the corresponding instruction booklet will do nothing. When we take the brave step from the comfortable mainstream into the unknown, we quickly discover that we are all just travelers on a journey trying to find our way.

When weight loss is conflated with veganism, it falls into dangerous area of body shaming and misogyny. Mainstream media loves to make women feel inferior when it comes to their bodies and unfortunately veganism has recently become another weapon and this sexist war on our society. Thin white women are used to sell veganism as a quick fix to a more desirable body at the expense of anyone who doesn't fit the cookie cutter idea of female perfection. In addition, these images and messages work to oppress women of colour and people living with disabilities. Selling veganism as anything other than caring for animals often leads to oppression, plain and simple. We need to resist this approach to promoting veganism by drawing the fight back to animals. Every single time.

I can’t stand people with exclusivity issues. We’re all unique. It’s part of the beauty of life. We’re all individual gifts, perspectives, and skills. This bullshit belief that one cookie cutter ideal of perfection fits all, gives too many small minded people an inflated sense of self. I’m

People have always been vain. Can you imagine what it was like when some guy invented the first mirror? Maidens probably spent all day and night just staring at their own reflection in the dim candle light of their drafty castle tower, back when the first mirrors were cutting edge technology.

Once we name something, you said, we can never see it the same way again. All that is unnameable falls away, gets lost, is murdered. You called this the cookie-cutter function of our minds. You said that you knew this not from shunning language but from immersion in it, on the screen, in conversation, onstage, on the page.

Sean was starting to remind her of the croque-monsieur she once ordered in Nice. At first glance, it looked like a plain, cookie-cutter grilled cheese, nothing special. But when she bit into it, the cheese was Brie and there were chopped-up portabello mushrooms hidden underneath. There was a lot more to it than it had appeared. Sean

One thing I’ve learnt in this life is that everyone is different. There is no cookie cutter mold to create the perfect look, the perfect shape, the perfect size. It doesn’t exist. The only thing that truly exists is imperfection. And it’s in all of us. Learning to embrace our imperfections, even loving them, is the biggest hurdle most of us face.

I like to save things. Not important things like whales or people or the environment. Silly things. Porcelain bells, the kind you get at souvenir shops. Cookie cutters you’ll never use, because who needs a cookie in the shape of a foot? Ribbons for my hair. Love letters. Of all the things I save, I guess you could say my love letters are my most prized possession. I keep my letters in a teal hatbox my mom bought me from a vintage store downtown. They aren’t love letters that someone else wrote for me; I don’t have any of those. These are ones I’ve written. There’s one for every boy I’ve ever loved—five in all. When I write, I hold nothing back. I write like he’ll never read it. Because he never will. Every secret thought, every careful observation, everything I’ve saved up inside me, I put it all in the letter. When I’m done, I seal it, I address it, and then I put it in my teal hatbox. They’re not love letters in the strictest sense of the word. My letters are for when I don’t want to be in love anymore. They’re for good-bye. Because after I write my letter, I’m no longer consumed by my all-consuming love. I can eat my cereal and not wonder if he likes bananas over his Cheerios too; I can sing along to love songs and not be singing them to him. If love is like a possession, maybe my letters are like my exorcisms. My letters set me free. Or at least they’re supposed to.

You're not the butcher, selling sausages. You're the cow, pre-sausage.

Pro tip: If you can't think of anything more interesting to post on social media than a picture of your cup of coffee, you are boring and you have nothing interesting to say.

Everyone thinks they're entitled to their 15 minutes of fame. And it's that narcissism that makes people, who have no business writing a book, think they can write a book.

Conformists are boring. Artists are interesting. That's the difference between a wannabe writer and a real writer.

I've got dreams and goals waiting for me to catch up to them

I take her face between my hands. I kiss her forehead, I kiss her nose, I kiss her eyes. And when our lips meet, I kiss her soul.

And I think Rory, who studied accounting at UT Austin and now does precisely that, has such a boring, cookie-cutter, picket-fence life that I’d rather claw out my eyeballs than live it.

Her name was a joke, she said, like Karen Cutter's family nick-naming her Cookie, or poor Marie Antoinette Jones, whose parents had liked the sound of the name but who were a tad weak in French history.

I marvel at how wildly different each of their stories is. It’s proof that our lives were never meant to be cookie-cutter, culturally constructed carbon copies of some ideal. There is no one way to live, love, raise children, arrange a family, run a school, a community, a nation. The norms were created by somebody, and each of us is somebody. We can make our own normal. We can throw out all the rules and write our own. We can build our lives from the inside out. We can stop asking what the world wants from us and instead ask ourselves what we want for our world. We can stop looking at what’s in front of us long enough to discover what’s inside us. We can remember and unleash the life-changing, relationship-changing, world-changing power of our own imagination. It might take us a lifetime. Luckily, a lifetime is exactly how long we have.

Even if there were no more books published ever, there are still more books in existence today than anyone can read. And most of them suck. Good luck trying to find a good one. It's like finding a needle in a hay stack.

When we embark on the writing journey, it is an inevitable truth that we draw upon personal experiences in creating our characters. Our experiences shape us and shape how we see the world around us. From a creative perspective, personal experiences are a gold mine. How deep we are willing to go into our personal experience can mean the difference between a bland, cookie cutter archetype and a compelling character – either protagonist or antagonist.

Books used to be written by humanity's greatest thinkers, or at least our greatest entertainers. Now every halfwit can publish his verbal diarrhea. And millions of shitty, mediocre, uninspired, trite books are drowning out mankind's greatest literary accomplishments.

I’d wanted love ever since I was a cookie-cutter little girl being brainwashed by cookie-cutter Disney movies about cookie-cutter princes and princesses falling into cookie-cutter love and then prancing off to their cookie-cutter castles to live out their cookie-cutter lives.

That was the tribal system at school: the girls—giggly gaggles of Miley Cyrus clones, the jocks in their swaggering gangs … and finally the third category, the ones like Edward Chan—the freaks. Loners, emos, geeks, nerds: the cookies that didn’t quite fit the cookie-cutter machine that was high school.

How about we just cut the waffle into the shape of a heart instead?” “That would look so cheap,” I scoff. But she’s right. There’s no sense in buying something we’d only ever use once a year, even if it only costs $19.99. As Kitty gets older, I see that she is far more like Margot than me. But then she says, “What if we use our cookie cutter to make heart-shaped pancakes instead? And put in red food coloring?” I beam at her. “Attagirl!” So maybe she’s got a little bit of me in her after all. Kitty continues. “We could put red food coloring in the syrup, too, to make it look like blood. A bloody heart!” No, never mind. Kitty is all her own.

Scroll through a list of books online, and you will find page after page after page of book covers with shirtless guys and titles that scream BILLIONAIRE ROMANCE! or ALPHA-MALE PARANORMAL WEREWOLF ROMANCE! or something equally ridiculous. All these shitty books look like clones of each other. There's not an original thought in sight.

Whispering Pines, Palmetto Groves, Majestic Manor, Golden Gables, Century Village, Martin Downs, Sunburn Acres, Twin Beavers, or Sunset Farts. Who gives a shit? It’s the same old Florida crap. However these places get named, rest assured, the more lyrical the moniker, the more of a sunblasted, cookie-cutter nightmare the place will be.

I took control of a Happy Helpdesk avatar, a cookie-cutter Ken doll that I used to take tech-support calls. This avatar appeared inside a huge virtual call center, inside a virtual cubicle, sitting at a virtual desk, in front of a virtual computer, wearing a virtual phone headset. I thought of this place as my own private virtual hell.

This was the time when all we could talk about was sentences, sentences—nothing else stirred us. Whatever happened in those days, whatever befell our regard, Clea and I couldn’t rest until it had been converted into what we told ourselves were astonishingly unprecedented and charming sentences: “Esther’s cleavage is something to be noticed” or “You can’t have a contemporary prison without contemporary furniture” or “I envision an art which will make criticism itself seem like a cognitive symptom, one which its sufferers define to themselves as taste but is in fact nothing of the sort” or “I said I want my eggs scrambled not destroyed.” At the explosion of such a sequence from our green young lips, we’d rashly scribble it on the wall of our apartment with a filthy wax pencil, or type it twenty-five times on the same sheet of paper and then photocopy the paper twenty-five times and then slice each page into twenty-five slices on the paper cutter in the photocopy shop and then scatter the resultant six hundred and twenty-five slips of paper throughout the streets of our city, fortunes without cookies.

Peacekeeper Christmas Spice Cookies 225g butter, softened 200g sugar 235ml molasses 1 egg 2 tbsp. sour cream 750g all-purpose flour 2 tbsp. baking powder 5g baking soda 1 tsp. ground cinnamon 1 tsp. ground ginger pinch salt 145g chopped walnuts 145g golden raisins 145g chopped dates In a large mixing bowl, cream the butter and sugar together. Add the molasses, egg and sour cream; mix well. Combine the flour, baking powder, baking soda, cinnamon, ginger and salt; gradually add to creamed mixture. Stir in walnuts, raisins and dates. Chill for 2 hours or until easy to handle. On a floured surface, roll out dough finely. Cut with a 21/2-inch round cookie cutter. Place on greased baking sheets. Bake at 325°F for 12–15 minutes. Cool completely.

Gentrification is often presented as a sort of corrective to the suburbs: instead of white flight and unsustainable cookie-cutter planning, we get dense, urban, and diverse cityscapes. But gentrification is simply a new form of the same process that created the suburbs; it's the same age-old, racist process of subsidizing and privileging the lives and preferred locales of the wealthy and white over those of poor people of color. The seesaw has just tipped in the other direction. Gentrification does not mean that the suburbs are over, or that cities are becoming more diverse. All it means is that our geography of inequality is being redrawn. Gentrification is not integration but a new form of segregation. The borders around the ghettos have simply been rebuilt.

He took a trip ... up to ... Elliott's house, his mansion rather. Awful place, twelve bedrooms and swimming pool and media hall and five car garage, but cheap and shoddy all the same, like the one next door and next door to that. A row of Ikea houses, such wealthy mediocrity. His very own son. His big, bald son. Who could believe it. The bigness, the baldness, the stupidity. In a house designed to bore the daylight out of visitors, no character at all, all blonde wood and fluorescent lighting and clean white machinery. Not to mention his brand new wife, number three, a clean white machine herself. Up from the cookie cutter and into Elliott's life, she might as well have jumped out of the microwave, her skin orange, her teeth pearly white. A trophy wife. But why the word "trophy"? Something to shoot on a safari.

He had to teach me to be more disciplined without dampening my love for chess or suppressing my natural voice. Many teachers have no feel for this balance and try to force their students into cookie-cutter molds. I have run into quite a few egomaniacal instructors like this over the years and have come to believe that their method is profoundly destructive for students in the long run—in any case, it certainly would not have worked with me. I

When we nurture, we need to do so from the deepest part of ourselves. Trying to fit into a "cookie-cutter" mold of nurturing will only frustrate and be harmful to both ourselves and our loved ones, cheating them of our full nurturing potential. To nurture is to be aware of our most true self and to give from that place. We make challah from a place of commitment to nourish ourselves and our families in a way that goes beyond mere physical feeding and watering.

I think we all need to learn to like ourselves-just the way we are. And if there are moderate ways to improve our looks and if we're doing it for the right reasons (not to impress our friends!), then maybe it's just fine. Beauty is very subjective-meaning that it all depends on your personal taste. I think that's why God made us all different. So instead of turning ourselves into cookie-cutter images of the latest fashion icon, why not take a moment to enjoy our differences?

I’m hot-gluing white bric-a-brac around a heart as I wonder aloud, “Should we do a special breakfast for Daddy? We could buy one of those juicers at the mall and make fresh-squeezed pink grapefruit juice. And I think I saw heart waffle makers online for not very expensive.” “Daddy doesn’t like grapefruit,” Kitty says. “And we barely use our regular waffle maker as it is. How about we just cut the waffle into the shape of a heart instead?” “That would look so cheap,” I scoff. But she’s right. There’s no sense in buying something we’d only ever use once a year, even if it only costs $19.99. As Kitty gets older, I see that she is far more like Margot than me. But then she says, “What if we use our cookie cutter to make heart-shaped pancakes instead? And put in red food coloring?” I beam at her. “Attagirl!” So maybe she’s got a little bit of me in her after all. Kitty continues. “We could put red food coloring in the syrup, too, to make it look like blood. A bloody heart!” No, never mind. Kitty is all her own.

We lose ourselves and our identity in moments of unnaming, but we must return to those places to find ourselves and, even more so, to find God. This concept is hard to grasp because it’s the opposite of what we assume to be true. We think we’ll be happy if we can escape the past, but it is truer that without our past we are vacant beings with bland names and cookie-cutter stories. As we enter the places where we lost our name, we are most likely to hear the whisper of our new name—the name God will give us.

Rookie Cinnamon Sugar Doughnuts* Parental supervision necessary for frying Makes 8 doughnuts and 8 doughnut holes Ingredients Vegetable oil 1 (8-count) tube of premade, large biscuit dough (found in the refrigerated dough aisle at supermarkets) ½ cup sugar ¼ teaspoon ground cinnamon Directions 1. Fill a large saucepan with vegetable oil to a depth of 1 inch. 2. Heat oil over medium heat until it reaches 365°F. You can measure the temperature with a cooking oil thermometer. Or, drop a single kernel of popcorn into the oil as it’s heating. When the kernel pops, you’re ready to fry. 3. While the oil heats, open the biscuit tube and separate the rounds. Use a 1-inch-round cookie cutter to cut a hole in the center of each biscuit. Save the holes. 4. Mix the sugar and cinnamon in a large shallow bowl. 5. Add 2 doughnuts to the hot oil at a time. Cook, turning once, until golden brown—about 1 minute per side. 6. Drain on paper towels and immediately toss in the cinnamon sugar to coat. Cool on a wire rack. Repeat with the remaining doughnuts and holes.

Rory and I aren’t terribly close, but we have the easy intimacy of two sisters who can’t fathom what the other finds attractive about their lifestyle, and have long given up trying to convert them. Rory thinks I’m itinerant, badly prepared for the future, wasting an Ivy League degree, and getting a little too old to keep chasing the publishing pipe dream instead of a stable career with benefits and a retirement plan. And I think Rory, who studied accounting at UT Austin and now does precisely that, has such a boring, cookie-cutter, picket-fence life that I’d rather claw out my eyeballs than live it

To me, the mark of a truly great sporting venue has never been what it sounds like or how it feels when the stands are packed. That's easy. Even the most generic cookie-cutter stadium or arena feels electric when the game is big, the lights are on, and the crowd is amped. The real measure of a ballpark's character is how the place feels when it's empty. When the only noises to be heard are produced by the occasional breeze that slips through the concourse. It rattles the ropes on the empty center-field flagpoles. It pushes a stray plastic cup around beneath the feet of the box seats. And if you listen closely enough, that wind carries on it the whispers of the ghosts. The athletes who played between the lines, their toes in the dirt where only those who compete are allowed to roam. During my career in sports media, I've heard their voices at Indianapolis Motor Speedway and Darlington Raceway. I've heard them at Lambeau Field and the Rose Bowl. I've heard them at old Boston Garden and Augusta National. And the morning of Thursday, March 3, 1994, I heard them at McCormick Field. Cobb, Gehrig, Dizzy Dean, Hank Greenberg, Jackie Robinson, Roy Campanella, Willie Stargell. From the Hall of Famers to a thousand minor leaguers whose names no one remembers. I swear, they were all there that morning to welcome us into the little mountain ballpark that they'd helped build.

BACON, EGG, AND CHEDDAR CHEESE TOAST CUPS Preheat oven to 400 degrees F., rack in the middle position. 6 slices bacon (regular sliced, not thick sliced) 4 Tablespoons (2 ounces, ½ stick) salted butter, softened 6 slices soft white bread ½ cup grated cheddar cheese 6 large eggs Salt and pepper to taste Cook the 6 slices of bacon in a frying pan over medium heat for 6 minutes or until the bacon is firmed up and the edges are slightly brown, but the strips are still pliable. They won’t be completely cooked, but that’s okay. They will finish cooking in the oven. Place the partially-cooked bacon on a plate lined with paper towels to drain it. Generously coat the inside of 6 muffin cups with half of the softened butter. Butter one side of the bread with the rest of the butter but stop slightly short of the crusts. Lay the bread out on a sheet of wax paper or a bread board butter side up. Hannah’s 1st Note: You will be wasting a bit of butter here, but it’s easier than cutting rounds of bread first and trying to butter them after they’re cut. Using a round cookie cutter that’s three and a half inches (3 and ½ inches) in diameter, cut circles out of each slice of bread.   Hannah’s 2nd Note: If you don’t have a 3.5 inch cookie cutter, you can use the top rim of a standard size drinking glass to do this. Place the bread rounds butter side down inside the muffin pans, pressing them down gently being careful not to tear them as they settle into the bottom of the cup. If one does tear, cut a patch from the buttered bread that is left and place it, buttered side down, over the tear. Curl a piece of bacon around the top of each piece of bread, positioning it between the bread and the muffin tin. This will help to keep the bacon in a ring shape. Sprinkle shredded cheese in the bottom of each muffin cup, dividing the cheese as equally as you can between the 6 muffin cups. Crack an egg into a small measuring cup (I use a half-cup measure) with a spout, making sure to keep the yolk intact. Hannah’s 3rd Note: If you break a yolk, don’t throw the whole egg away. Just slip it in a small covered container which you will refrigerate and use for scrambled eggs the next morning, or for that batch of cookies you’ll make in the next day or two. Pour the egg carefully into the bottom of one of the muffin cups. Repeat this procedure for all the eggs, cracking them one at a time and pouring them into the remaining muffin cups. When every muffin cup has bread, bacon, cheese and egg, season with a little salt and pepper. Bake the filled toast cups for 6 to 10 minutes, depending on how firm you want the yolks. (Naturally, a longer baking time yields a harder yolk.) Run the blade of a knife around the edge of each muffin cup, remove the Bacon, Egg, and Cheddar Cheese Toast Cups, and serve immediately. Hannah’s 4th Note: These are a bit tricky the first time you make them. That’s just “beginner nerves”. Once you’ve made them successfully, they’re really quite easy to do and extremely impressive to serve for a brunch. Yield: 6 servings (or 3 servings if you’re fixing them for Mike and Norman).

STRAWBERRY SHORTBREAD BAR COOKIES Preheat oven to 350 degrees F., rack in the middle position.   Hannah’s 1st Note: These are really easy and fast to make. Almost everyone loves them, including Baby Bethie, and they’re not even chocolate! 3 cups all purpose flour (pack it down in the cup when you measure it) ¾ cup powdered (confectioner’s) sugar (don’t sift un- less it’s got big lumps) 1 and ½ cups salted butter, softened (3 sticks, 12 ounces, ¾ pound) 1 can (21 ounces) strawberry pie filling (I used Comstock)*** *** - If you can’t find strawberry pie filling, you can use another berry filling, like raspberry, or blueberry. You can also use pie fillings of larger fruits like peach, apple, or whatever. If you do that, cut the fruit pieces into smaller pieces so that each bar cookie will have some. I just put my apple or peach pie filling in the food processor with the steel blade and zoop it up just short of being pureed. I’m not sure about using lemon pie filling. I haven’t tried that yet. FIRST STEP: Mix the flour and the powdered sugar together in a medium-sized bowl. Cut in the softened butter with a two knives or a pastry cutter until the resulting mixture resembles bread crumbs or coarse corn meal. (You can also do this in a food processor using cold butter cut into chunks that you layer between the powdered sugar and flour mixture and process with the steel blade, using an on-and-off pulsing motion.) Spread HALF of this mixture (approximately 3 cups will be fine) into a greased (or sprayed with Pam or another nonstick cooking spray) 9-inch by 13-inch pan. (That’s a standard size rectangular cake pan.) Bake at 350 degrees F. for 12 to 15 minutes, or until the edges are just beginning to turn golden brown. Remove the pan to a wire rack or a cold burner on the stove, but DON’T TURN OFF THE OVEN! Let the crust cool for 5 minutes. SECOND STEP: Spread the pie filling over the top of the crust you just baked. Sprinkle the crust with the other half of the crust mixture you saved. Try to do this as evenly as possible. Don’t worry about little gaps in the topping. It will spread out and fill in a bit as it bakes. Gently press the top crust down with the flat blade of a metal spatula. Bake the cookie bars at 350 degrees F. for another 30 to 35 minutes, or until the top is lightly golden. Turn off the oven and remove the pan to a wire rack or a cold burner to cool completely. When the bars are completely cool, cover the pan with foil and refrigerate them until you’re ready to cut them. (Chilling them makes them easier to cut.) When you’re ready to serve them, cut the Strawberry Shortbread Bar Cookies into brownie-sized pieces, arrange them on a pretty platter, and if you like, sprinkle the top with extra powdered sugar.

Sky's The Limit" [Intro] Good evening ladies and gentlemen How's everybody doing tonight I'd like to welcome to the stage, the lyrically acclaimed I like this young man because when he came out He came out with the phrase, he went from ashy to classy I like that So everybody in the house, give a warm round of applause For the Notorious B.I.G The Notorious B.I.G., ladies and gentlemen give it up for him y'all [Verse 1] A nigga never been as broke as me - I like that When I was young I had two pair of Lees, besides that The pin stripes and the gray The one I wore on Mondays and Wednesdays While niggas flirt I'm sewing tigers on my shirts, and alligators You want to see the inside, I see you later Here comes the drama, oh, that's that nigga with the fake, blaow Why you punch me in my face, stay in your place Play your position, here come my intuition Go in this nigga pocket, rob him while his friends watching And hoes clocking, here comes respect His crew's your crew or they might be next Look at they man eye, big man, they never try So we rolled with them, stole with them I mean loyalty, niggas bought me milks at lunch The milks was chocolate, the cookies, butter crunch 88 Oshkosh and blue and white dunks, pass the blunts [Hook: 112] Sky is the limit and you know that you keep on Just keep on pressing on Sky is the limit and you know that you can have What you want, be what you want Sky is the limit and you know that you keep on Just keep on pressing on Sky is the limit and you know that you can have What you want, be what you want, have what you want, be what you want [Verse 2] I was a shame, my crew was lame I had enough heart for most of them Long as I got stuff from most of them It's on, even when I was wrong I got my point across They depicted me the boss, of course My orange box-cutter make the world go round Plus I'm fucking bitches ain't my homegirls now Start stacking, dabbled in crack, gun packing Nickname Medina make the seniors tote my Niñas From gym class, to English pass off a global The only nigga with a mobile can't you see like Total Getting larger in waists and tastes Ain't no telling where this felon is heading, just in case Keep a shell at the tip of your melon, clear the space Your brain was a terrible thing to waste 88 on gates, snatch initial name plates Smoking spliffs with niggas, real-life beginner killers Praying God forgive us for being sinners, help us out [Hook] [Verse 3] After realizing, to master enterprising I ain't have to be in school by ten, I then Began to encounter with my counterparts On how to burn the block apart, break it down into sections Drugs by the selections Some use pipes, others use injections Syringe sold separately Frank the Deputy Quick to grab my Smith & Wesson like my dick was missing To protect my position, my corner, my lair While we out here, say the Hustlers Prayer If the game shakes me or breaks me I hope it makes me a better man Take a better stand Put money in my mom's hand Get my daughter this college grant so she don't need no man Stay far from timid Only make moves when your heart's in it And live the phrase sky's the limit Motherfuckers See you chumps on top [Hook]

FAVORITE SUGAR COOKIES MAKES 10–30 COOKIES, DEPENDING ON SIZE The following is my favorite sugar cookie recipe. If the dough is processed IMMEDIATELY, the baked cookies taste sensational, just like vanilla shortbread. This recipe is perfect for the impatient baker. The sugar cookies also can be instantly turned into a cookie on a stick, pretty iced cookies you can hang as decoration, or colorful fondant cookies. This is a very multi-talented sugar cookie — imagination's the limit! 1 cup (230 g) butter (room temperature) 1 1/4 cup 2 tablespoon (165 g) powdered sugar 1 egg ½ teaspoon vanilla extract 141 3 3.4 cup 1 tablespoon (475 g) flour 2 teaspoons baking powder ½ teaspoon salt Flour for the work station 1. Preheat the oven to 400 °F (200 °C) on the baking setting and cover a baking sheet with parchment paper. Mix butter and powdered sugar until it is creamy. Whisk the egg together with the vanilla extract in a separate bowl and thoroughly add it into the butter and sugar mixture. 2. Mix the flour, baking powder, and salt together. Gradually add this to the butter and sugar mixture and knead with your hands into a firm dough. If the dough sticks to your fingers, you can still add a little flour. Let the dough rest for 2 minutes in the bowl. 3. Roll out the dough on the floured work station so that it is about ¼ in thick. Form dough into the desired shapes with cookie cutters and place on the baking sheet. *Do you want to turn your sugar cookies into cookie pops? Then from here follow the instructions on page 19. 4. Bake the cookies in the oven for 7–8 minutes. Caution! The cookies should not brown. Let the finished cookies cool down on a wire rack completely intact. You can decorate them the next day. Thus you avoid the fat of the cookie getting into the glaze, absorbing the fondant and becoming discolored.

I should take them cookies--maybe frosted sugar cookies. I think I have cookie cutters that look like a paw." Snowflakes, Cupcakes & Kittens

Beat granulated sugar and butter in large bowl with electric mixer until light and fluffy. Add egg and vanilla; mix well. Gradually beat in dry ingredients on low speed until well mixed. Refrigerate dough two hours or overnight until firm. Preheat oven to 375°. Roll out dough on lightly floured surface to 1⁄4-inch thickness. Cut into humanoid shapes with gingerbread-person cookie cutters. Place on parchment-lined baking sheets. Bake 8 to 10 minutes or until lightly browned. Cool completely. For the icing, mix all ingredients except food color. Divide white icing into two small

We can have happiness, Salama. Maybe it doesn't come in a cookie-cutter format, but we will take the fragments and we will rebuild it.

Was it possible to have a hole inside you, cookie-cuttered into the shape of a person you hadn't met yet?

Debbie’s Delicious Christmas Cookies Cookies – Ingredients List #1: 2-1/2 cups flour 1 cup white sugar ¼ tsp. salt 1 tsp. baking soda 2 tsp. cream of tartar *Mix dry ingredients in large bowl   Cookies – Ingredients List #2: 1 cup butter, softened 2 eggs 1 tsp. vanilla *Mix wet ingredients Directions: Preheat oven to 350 degrees Mix both wet and dry ingredients together. (You can also refrigerate dough so it “firms up.”) Roll cookie dough on floured surface.  Cut with cookie cutters. Place cookies on ungreased cookie sheet. Bake for 6 – 10 minutes (depending on thickness)  *You can add more flour if the mixture seems “doughy” Frosting ½ cup solid vegetable shortening ½ cup softened butter (not melted) 1 tsp. vanilla 4 cups powdered sugar 2 tbsp. milk food coloring Cream butter & shortening Add vanilla Slowly add sugar Add milk Beat on high until fluffy.  (This recipe will test your mixer.  I recommend using a heavy-duty mixer, but it is not required.  Just keep an eye on the mixer so it doesn’t overheat.) *You can also add a little extra milk, a tablespoon at a time. Separate frosting into bowls.  Add drops of food coloring until color desired is achieved. Frost cooled cookies.  Decorate with sprinkles, etc.

A clocked minute of static—a long time to sit and watch nothing, I was all for fast-forwarding but Nakota glared me down—then a sip of absolute blackness, recorded blackness, rich and menacing as an X ray of a cancer. Nakota, lips parting to say something but the thought drowned in the flash of an image: something like bloody stalks, caressing the screen like hands behind the glass, so greedily intimate even Nakota gave a tiny backstepping whoop. Then as if a barrier shattered, ferocious fun, whatever provided the images warming to this game: a vast black grin like the Funhole itself become its namesake, black asshole-mouth studded with teeth or bones like broken glass and in that Pandora opening Nakota breathless and me with my mouth hanging wide open, village idiot at freak show, a vertiginous glide forward as upon the screen came things I didn’t want to know about, oh yes I’m quite sophisticated, quite the bent voyeur, I can laugh at stuff that would make you vomit but how would you like to see the ecstatic prance of self-evisceration, a figure carving itself, re-created in a harsh new form from what seemed to be its own hot guts, becoming no figure at all but the absence of one, a cookie-cutter shape and in but not contained by its outline a blackness, a vortex of nothing so final that beside it the Funhole was harmless, do you see what I’m saying, the Funhole was a goddamned carnival ride next to this nonfigure and all at once what I wanted least, least, far less than to be struck blind or any kind of petty death was to see the figure turn (as it did now) in slick almost pornographic slowness and show me, show me what there was to see

If we subject ourselves to the same ‘cookie cutter’ patterns day in and day out, the perception of time’s passage accelerates substantially. Nuance slows time.

It was the cookie-cutter morning-show template of overcovered local news split up by segments on recipes and shelter pets.

There is no cookie-cutter solution to underachievement, and this emphasises the need for nuanced approaches that respect and account for the individual differences at play.

He isn’t a “cookie cutter” Holy Spirit who has the same answer for everyone. He knows your situation, and He has answers with your name on them! This wonderful Counselor and Guide is never going to leave you (see John 14:16). He knows what you’re going to say before you say it. He hears your thoughts before you think them (see Psalm 139:2-4). And He has perfect help available just for you.

our lives were never meant to be cookie-cutter, culturally constructed carbon copies of some ideal. There is no one way to live, love, raise children, arrange a family, run a school, a community, a nation. The norms were created by somebody, and each of us is somebody.

In that moment, I knew the truth about family. There wasn’t one cookie-cutter way to create love bonds. Families came in all shapes, forms, and sizes. Some were tied together by blood, and others by heartbeats. At the end of the day, it didn’t matter how you came together; it only mattered that you stayed together. That you looked out for one another and loved in an unconditional way.

When you have spent so much of your life in baseball that it becomes your life—when you have managed thousands of games and thousands of players—you see the timeline and transformation of the game from a unique point of privilege. You see the changing strike zone and the current mania over pitch count that never existed when Koufax and Gibson and Ryan were going at it during your own formative years. You see the dawn of sweet little cookie-cutter parks where a guy can hit a home run into the short porch in left simply by flicking his wrists.

Stay true to your narrative and refuse to conform to a cookie-cutter version of yourself just to accommodate others' comfort. Embrace every unique piece of who you are, for it's in your authenticity that you truly shine, attracting those who appreciate you for you.

In elementary school, students are being trained to be workers who can follow orders, memorize facts, and be on time no matter what. Imagination and critical thinking skills are replaced with cookie-cutter learning and standardized testing.

The efforts are not to see you become the cookie-cutter copy of what some other person thinks you "should" be. Shakespeare is simply an environment that allows us to evolve wihout the influence of everyone else telling us what we should evolve into. Shakespeare offers a freedom from those prisons! Your mind will begin shaking the residue of other people's ideas and begin developing understandings that are genuinely yours! That is the goal of these Shakespearean efforts. You have nothing to lose but the parts of you that do not belong anyhow.

pissing on photos, we wake parched in parallel realities i still end up drowning in visions he settles for the horror; hostage to the oddity of normal- comfy spot mirage, as he makes the bed daily so he can lie in it and be secret sad boy; he settles to sleepwalk with fantasy, slitting the throat of actual possibility, begging for a hand job to get through the day, making friends with locked doors and collectors of cookie cutters

Before long I learned that you had spent a lifetime equally devoted to the conviction that words are not good enough. Not only not good enough, but corrosive to all that is good, all that is real, all that is flow. We argued and argued on this account, full of fever, not malice. Once we name something, you said, we can never see it the same way again. All that is unnameable falls away, gets lost, is murdered. You called this the cookie-cutter function of our minds. You said that you knew this not from shunning language but from immersion in it, on the screen, in conversation, onstage, on the page. I argued along the lines of Thomas Jefferson and the churches—for plethora, for kaleidoscopic shifting, for excess. I insisted that words did more than nominate. I read aloud to you the opening of Philosophical Investigations. Slab, I shouted, slab! For a time, I thought I had won.

Makes about seventy-two 3-inch cookies 16 tablespoons (1 cup) vegetable shortening 2 large eggs, beaten 2 cups sorghum molasses (see Tip) 1 tablespoon ground ginger 1 tablespoon ground allspice 1 tablespoon baking soda ½ teaspoon table salt 6 tablespoons hot water (110°F) 5 to 6 cups all-purpose flour, sifted, plus more for the work surface Beat the shortening in the bowl of a stand mixer fitted with a paddle attachment, or in a bowl with a hand mixer, on medium speed until smooth and creamy. Stop to scrape down the bowl. Add the eggs, sorghum, ginger, allspice, baking soda, and salt, beating on medium speed until well incorporated. Add the hot water and start by adding 4½ cups of flour or more as needed, beating on low speed to form a soft, evenly caramel-colored dough that just pulls away from the sides of the bowl. Cover and refrigerate for at least 1 hour and up to overnight. When you’re ready to bake, move the middle oven rack up one level and preheat the oven to 350°F. Line several baking sheets with parchment paper or silicone mats. Lightly flour a 2-inch cookie cutter or the rim of a small glass, your rolling pin, and a work surface. Turn out half the dough and roll it to an even thickness of ¼ inch. Cut out the cookies, transferring them to the prepared baking sheets, where they should be spaced 1 inch apart. The cookies will spread as they bake. Re-flour the cookie cutter and rolling pin and reroll the dough. Gather up the scraps and reuse them as needed. Bake one sheet at a time on the repositioned rack for 7 to 9 minutes, turning the pan front to back halfway through. The cookies will be lightly golden and soft. Let them sit on the sheet for a few minutes, then transfer the cookies to a wire rack to cool while you repeat rolling, cutting, and baking the remaining dough. tip: Sorghum molasses (syrup) is different from blackstrap or unsulphured molasses. It’s made from the cooked cane of sorghum grasses, and it is sweeter, lighter in color, and thicker than molasses.

There is no cookie cutter mold to create the perfect look, the perfect shape, the perfect size. It doesn’t exist. The only thing that truly exists is imperfection. And it’s in all of us. Learning to embrace our imperfections, even loving them, is the biggest hurdle most of us face.

Sugar Cookies Gather the ingredients: 2 and 1/4 cups all-purpose flour 1/2 tsp. baking powder 1/4 tsp. salt 3/4 cup unsalted butter, softened 3/4 cup granulated sugar 1 large egg 2 tsp. pure vanilla extract (Brynn likes Penzy's vanilla, so good)  1/4 or 1/2 teaspoon almond extract (optional, but makes cookies just like in the book and the flavor is amazing) Make cookie dough and bake Whisk the flour, baking powder, and salt together in a medium bowl. Set aside. In a large bowl using a hand mixer or a stand mixer fitted with a paddle attachment, beat the butter and sugar together on high speed until completely smooth and creamy, about 2 minutes. Add the egg, vanilla, and almond extract (if using) and beat on high speed until combined, about 1 minute. Scrape down the sides and up the bottom of the bowl and beat again as needed to combine. Add the dry ingredients to the wet ingredients and mix on low just until combined. The dough will be relatively soft. If the dough seems too soft and sticky for rolling, add 1 more tablespoon of flour. Divide into two pieces.  Roll out cookie dough to 1/4 inch thick or just under 1/4 inch thick. Chill rolled out cookie dough. Without chilling, these cookie-cutter sugar cookies don't hold their shape. Chill the rolled-out cookie dough for at least 1-2 hours and up to 2 days.

Rhett is perfect. He’ll be the golden beacon for the church and the cookie-cutter husband. Rhett is everything a girl could ask for, and more. If only I wasn’t falling in love with his brother.

2½ cups all-purpose flour ¾ tsp baking powder 2 sticks butter 1½ tbsp sugar 1 tsp salt ¾ tsp cumin seeds ½ tsp cumin powder (optional) 2 to 2½ tbsp plain whole milk yogurt Sift the flour and baking powder. Cream the butter and sugar. Mix in the salt, cumin seeds, and cumin powder (if you like the flavor of cumin, adding the powder is recommended). Add the sifted flour to the creamed mixture. Knead into a dough, adding the yogurt as you do so. Roll the dough ⅛-inch thick. Cut into round shapes with cookie cutter. Place on a greased cookie tray and bake in a preheated oven at 350 degrees Fahrenheit for about 20 minutes. Remove from the oven and leave on a rack to cool. Enjoy the naan khatais with a cup of hot Indian chai.

We are all different. No one in the world lives a life that fits the cookie cutter, or is in a position to judge anyone. As much as you think, you'll never understand them. It won't hurt you to be kind, and it could chance everything for someone else for the better.

When it comes to womanhood, most of us have been exposed to clichéd advice, shallow caricatures, and cookie-cutter solutions. It is our hope that this resource will shift the discussion to a better focus. We pray that it will • enable you to explore God’s timeless design for womanhood straight from His Word • help you wrestle with how to apply God’s design to your season of life • encourage you to have grace toward women who differ in life circumstance and application • equip you to pass on the message of True Womanhood to the next generation

Proverbs is not a reference book to pull off the shelf when you are stumped by life’s difficulties. It is not a set of pat answers to cookie-cutter challenges. Instead, it guides and empowers us to discover answers for ourselves by virtue of having gained wisdom through diligent application. In

No one has ever stood out by being a conformist.

Most self-published books are kinda like dreams. Your dream was interesting to you, but when you tell others what you dreamed last night, their eyes glaze over, because your nightly hallucinations really aren't all that interesting to anyone else.

Before you take anyone's advice, check the sales rank of their own books. If their Amazon sales rank is somewhere around 700,000 or worse, they're barely selling one book per month, if even that. Why would you follow their advice? They have no idea what they're talking about. They're rookies pretending to be experts. It's almost like they're role playing. They're make-believe writers, the way kids are make-believe astronauts or pirates.

Readers can only read so many books in a month. And unless you give them a really good reason to read your book, they'll prefer to read some other, more famous book. You're competing for the reader's attention. And if you don't even know that, you've already lost.

When you self-publish a book, not only are you competing with millions of other books, you're also at a disadvantage because your book is self-published, and a lot of readers are unwilling to even try your book, because they've had so many bad experiences.

If everyone is suddenly a writer, then no one is. It feels like cultural appropriation. You're stealing their identity. You're appropriating the one thing that is sacred to real writers. You're not a writer. You like to write. There's a difference. To you it's just a hobby, and yet you decorate yourself with stolen feathers. You give yourself a title you haven't earned and don't deserve. Just like you can't wake up one day and pretend now you're a proctologist.

You have to make people care about your book. They have to love it or hate it. If they don't care about your book, you have failed as a writer.

Self-publishing is not nearly as easy as people think it is. Sure, you can upload some crappy manuscript online and slap some run-of-the-mill cover on it. But that doesn't mean anyone wants to read it.

The large companies that offer self-publishing services don't care whether you buy a copy of Dracula, a copy of Frankenstein, and a copy of Fifty Shades of Grey – or if you buy three "proof copies" of your own book. They still sold you three books. And they know that wannabe writers are so proud of their own crappy book, they'll buy a whole bunch of copies to give to their friends and family. Wannabe writers are their best customers.

Basically the self-publishing industry's business model is based on selling you your own book. You're giving them money so that you can feel like a writer.

Some people feel that cheap immigrant labor is bringing down wages, which makes it impossible for Americans to earn a living. A lot of real writers feel the same way about the influx of millions of wannabe writers into their profession.

In the past, ten authors made a million bucks each. Now a million authors make ten bucks each. Is that better? No. That's not helping anyone. Your vanity is making it harder for real writers to feed their families.

Chances are, even your friends and family aren't really interested in reading your self-published book. Your mom might read it to do you a favor, but if it wasn't written by her precious little angel, she probably couldn't care less about it.

Its pretty annoying to real writers, when some unqualified, talent-free hack calls himself a writer, because it devalues the word. Millions of shitty self-published wannabe writers are giving real indie writers with real talent a bad name.

Most wannabe writers are to the book industry what cows are to the meat industry.

Have you traveled the globe? Have you been places, done things and experienced the world? Have you lived a colorful, unique life? If not, you have nothing of value to contribute to humanity. Everything you write is not based on real world experience but recycled second hand information.

You can't be a writer if you haven't done shit and experienced nothing interesting. They say write what you know. If you know nothing about life, you can't be a good writer. Good writing is based on who you are as a person. Every good book is a part of who you are. Every good writer reveals his true self in his books. If there is nothing interesting to reveal, go be an accountant or something. You have no business being a writer.

The difference between some random toddler scribbling some crappy drawing and Leonardo da Vinci is that Leonardo has talent. Someone with no talent is not the same as someone with talent.

If someone with talent creates something, it's art. When someone with no talent creates something, it's crap.

If you want to be a good writer, you need to be a talented artist. And artists are unique and stand out. Artists are the opposite of conformists.

If you want to be a good writer, you need to be a talented artist. And artists are unique and stand out. Artists are the opposite of conformists. So by doing what everyone else is doing, you're proving your mediocrity, and your lack of artistic uniqueness. When you follow everyone else's example, you are by definition not an artist. You're a copy cat.

if you've ever been to an old-timey museum, you've seen those silly portrait paintings that vain noblemen of by-gone eras used to plaster all over the walls of their pompous mansions. Today, thanks to social media, people can take pointless pictures and pollute the world with their dumb shit faster than ever before. Progress!

People who have absolutely nothing interesting or unique to say think writing a book will make them interesting. They think when they tell people "I'm a writer" it sounds cooler than if they say "I clean houses for a living.

Not every self-published indie author is bad. There actually are some very good ones. But they're the exception, not the rule.

Shakespeare was one in a million. That makes you pretty unique, if there's only one million people. But when there's a hundred million people, then being one in a million means there are 100 people just as talented as you. In a country of 300 million people, there are 300 people like you. And in a world of seven billion people, you're competing with 7000 other people who are every bit as good as you. I wonder if Shakespeare would have gotten famous if he lived today, and had to compete with 7000 other Shakespeares.

They say you shouldn't judge a book by its cover. But if there's a shirtless guy on your cover, or your title includes the words billionaire, alpha-male, werewolf or werebear, your "book" is probably a pile of unimaginative, derivative drivel devoid of a single original thought. Yet another poorly written romance clone the world didn't need.

Finally, the stores’ design, so critical to atmosphere, seemed to lack the warm, cozy feeling of a neighborhood gathering place. Some people called our interior spaces cookie-cutter or sterile: Clearly we have had to streamline store design to gain efficiencies of scale . . . [but] one of the results has been stores that no longer have the soul of the past. . . .

Perilee’s Wartime Spice Cake 1 cup brown sugar, firmly packed 1 1/2 cups water 1/3 cup shortening or lard 2/3 cup raisins 1/2 teaspoon each ground cloves and nutmeg 2 teaspoons cinnamon 1 teaspoon baking soda 1 teaspoon salt 2 cups flour 1 teaspoon baking powder Boil brown sugar, water, shortening, raisins, and spices together for 3 minutes. Cool. Dissolve baking soda in 2 teaspoons water and add with salt to raisin mixture. Stir together flour and baking powder and add to raisin mixture one cup at a time, beating well after each addition. Pour into a greased and floured 8-inch square pan and bake at 325 °F for about 50 minutes. (Adapted from Butterless, Eggless, Milkless Cake, in Recipes and Stories of Early Day Settlers; and from Depression Cake, described in Whistleberries, Stirabout and Depression Cake: Food Customs and Concoctions of the Frontier West.) Hattie’s Lighter-than-Lead Biscuits 3/4 cup cooked oatmeal, cooled 1 1/2 cups wheat or rye flour 4 teaspoons baking powder 3/4 teaspoon salt 2 tablespoons lard, shortening, or butter 1/4 cup milk Mix oatmeal with sifted flour, baking powder, and salt. Cut in lard, shortening, or butter. Add milk and mix, forming a soft dough. Do not overmix. Roll out on lightly floured surface to 1/4 to 1/2 inch thick. Cut with floured biscuit cutter (or drinking glass) and bake on an ungreased cookie sheet at 425 °F for 12 to 15 minutes. (These are what Hattie served to Rooster Jim in Chapter 17.)

99% of self-published authors will never make any money with their books.

Women who make "cookie cutter" families are often disappointed when the "cookies" don't turn out perfect and everything crumbles.

Kolacky Originating as a semisweet wedding dessert from Central Europe, Kolacky make a wonderful treat anytime, although many make them especially for Christmas. Here’s a modern version of a delicious recipe. Kolacky 1/2 cup butter, softened 1 (3oz) pkg. cream cheese, softened 1 1/4 cups flour 1/4 cup strawberry jam (any flavor works) 1/4 cup confectioner's sugar Preheat oven to 375 degrees. Cream butter and cream cheese in a medium bowl. Beat until fluffy.  Add flour then mix well. Roll dough to 1/8 inch thickness on lightly floured surface. Traditionally, the pastry is cut into squares, but you can use a round biscuit cutter or glass if that’s what you have on hand. Place pastries two-inches apart on lightly greased cookie sheet. Spoon 1/4 tsp. jam onto each cookie. Fold opposite sides together. If you have trouble getting the sides to stick, dampen the edge with a drop of milk or water. Bake for 12 minutes. Cool completely on wire racks and sprinkle liberally with confectioner's sugar. It is nearly impossible to eat just one! Yield about 2 dozen.

Salmon en Croute In Celtic mythology, the salmon is a magical fish that grants the eater knowledge of all things. Notes: Nonstick spray may be substituted for melted butter. Keep the phyllo covered with plastic wrap and a damp towel until ready to assemble; otherwise, it will dry out. 2 cloves garlic 1 7-oz. jar sun-dried tomatoes in olive oil 3 cups torn fresh basil leaves salt and pepper to taste 1 package 9x14 phyllo dough, thawed 1 cup melted butter 10 4-oz. salmon fillets, skin removed 2 eggs, beaten with ¼ cup water Preheat oven to 425 degrees. In a food processor, blend garlic, tomatoes with oil, basil, and salt and pepper. Set aside. Grease two large cookie sheets. Carefully lay five sheets of phyllo across each cookie sheet, overlapping and brushing each sheet with melted butter. Repeat. Divide salmon evenly between the cookie sheets and place vertically on top of phyllo, leaving a space between each fillet. Divide and spread basil mixture on top of each individual salmon fillet. Cover salmon with five sheets of phyllo, brushing each sheet with butter. Repeat. With a pizza cutter or knife, slice in between each fillet. Using egg wash, fold sides of phyllo together to form individual “packets.” Bake for 15–20 minutes. Serves 10. Lemon Zucchini Bake Use lemon thyme to add a sweet citrus flavor to everything from poultry to vegetables. If you can’t find it in your area, try chopped lemon balm, lemon verbena, or lemon basil. ¼ cup seasoned bread crumbs ¼ cup grated Parmesan cheese 2 teaspoons lemon thyme leaves 2 large zucchinis, thinly sliced 1 large Vidalia onion, thinly sliced 4 tablespoons melted butter Preheat oven to 350 degrees. Mix bread crumbs, cheese, and thyme. In a round casserole dish, layer half of the zucchini and half of the onion slices. Baste with melted butter. Add half of the bread crumb mixture. Repeat layers and bake, covered, for 20 minutes. Serves 4–6. Body Scrub Sugar scrubs are a great way to slough off stress and dead skin. For unique scents, try layering dried herbs like lavender (revitalizing) or peppermint (energizing) with a cup of white sugar and let stand for two weeks before use, shaking periodically. Then blend with a tablespoon of light oil such as sunflower seed. Slough away dead skin in the shower or tub.

Of course, this anti sprawl letter-writers all lived in sprawling suburbs in the former Everglades. Now that they were settled in their gated communities, they wanted to slam the gate behind them. It is easy to fulminate about the costs of south Florida’s growth- its gridlock, environmental degradation, inadequate municipal services, and cookie-cutter landscape- but there is no denying the allure of its 75-degree January afternoons. Even in south Florida fails to manage its growth or preserve its natural beauty, it will still be more attractive than Cleveland or Buffalo in the winter. And even if it fails to diversity its economy or protect its aquifers, it will still look like paradise to residents of Havana or Caracas.

Cocky Reality Check For Dummies: 'For Dummies' was trademarked years ago. Where was the outrage then?

many parents want a cookie-cutter version of potty training. There’s no such thing. It doesn’t exist. Also, it infuriates me that your neighbor with two children thinks she knows everything about this potty training gig.

I'm head clown among those condemned for what they've inherited - this fool's paradise of drab transgressions, cookie-cutter villains, ballistic incontinence and headshot trivia.

The purpose of this hook is not to produce cookie-cutter communicators, all polished and perfect models of the manual. The purpose is to help you, within the framework of your own personality and God-given abilities, exalt the Lord Jesus Christ and communicate His truth in the most effective way. 'lhe person who knows the power of God and is willing to give his or her potential to Him will live in the humble realization that God often allows the person with little natural ability to do His greatest work.

Conclusion Be sure to bring your mind to a place of peace for you to memorize. Bring the whole household peace, and hide away in a secret place to be alone with your beloved. Then meditate on the presence of God while listening intently to the Holy Spirit. Read the word and as God speaks to you through the pages, memorize what He gives you in faith that He will help you retain it, using the various methods outlined above. In the end there is not one physical method that is best for everyone. There is no cookie cutter person. Some of us learn differently from others. Therefore it is best to stick with what works for you, while applying faith. The only single method that works for every believer is seeking God for wisdom and help while memorizing. God has said that it is His will to help you. Therefore Beloved, be diligent to seek the Lord in all things. He will be our strength in our weaknesses, and help us to retain the scriptures. His Holy Spirit will recall it to mind even as Jesus said. Whenever you need the scriptures they’ll be right there in your mind through the leading of the Holy Spirit. God will never fail you, He will never let you down because it is His will for you to have wisdom. He will not leave it up to you to save yourself. God will give you the wisdom to memorize much scripture if you seek Him for it. But you must have faith even as the scriptures outlined and He will fulfill what He has promised.

Without an acceptance of multiple biblical church models, your own movement and network may plant cookie-cutter churches in neighborhoods where that model is inappropriate or may employ leaders whose gifts don’t fit it. Your own movement would risk becoming too homogeneous, reaching only one kind of neighborhood or one kind of person, and fail to reflect the God-ordained diversity of humanity in your church. As much as we want to believe that most people will want to become our particular kind of Christian, it is not true. The city will not be won unless many different denominations become dynamic mini-movements.

Unshackled by strict yet arbitrary, misguided norms, outcasts can be, look, act, and associate however they want. And in this ever conformist, cookie-cutter, magazine-celebrity-worshipping, creativity-stifling society, the innovation, courage, and differences of the cafeteria fringe are vital to America’s culture and progress. Which is why we must celebrate them.

1. Give your toddler some large tubular pasta and a shoelace.  Show her how to thread the shoelace through the pasta. 2. Take an empty long wrapping paper tube and place one end on the edge of the sofa and the other end on the floor.  Give him a small ball such as a Ping Pong ball to roll down the tube.   3. Give her some individually wrapped toilet tissues, some boxes of facial tissue or some small tins of food such as tomato paste.  Then let her have fun stacking them.     4. Wrap a small toy and discuss what might be inside it.  Give it to him to unwrap. Then rewrap as he watches.  Have him unwrap it again.    5. Cut  such fruits as strawberries and bananas into chunks.  Show her how to slide the chunks onto a long plastic straw.  Then show her how you can take off one chunk at a time, dip it into some yogurt and eat it.   6. Place a paper towel over a water-filled glass.  Wrap a rubber band around the top of the glass to hold the towel in place.  Then place a penny on top of the paper towel in the centre of the glass.  Give your child a pencil to poke holes in the towel until the penny sinks to the bottom of the glass.   7. You will need a small sheet of coarse sandpaper and various lengths of chunky wool.  Show him how to place these lengths of wool on the sandpaper and how the strands stick to it.   8. Use a large photo or picture and laminate it or put it between the sheets of clear contact paper.  Cut it into several pieces to create a puzzle.   9. Give her two glasses, one empty and one filled with water.  Then show her how to use a large eyedropper in order to transfer some of the water into the empty glass.   10. Tie the ends/corners of several scarves together.  Stuff the scarf inside an empty baby wipes container and pull a small portion up through the lid and then close the lid.  Let your toddler enjoy pulling the scarf out of the container.   11. Give your child some magnets to put on a cookie sheet.  As your child puts the magnets on the cookie sheet and takes them off, talk about the magnets’ colours, sizes, etc.   12. Use two matching sets of stickers. Put a few in a line on a page and see if he can match the pattern.  Initially, you may need to lift an edge of the sticker off the page since that can be difficult to do.    13. You will need a piece of thin Styrofoam or craft foam and a few cookie cutters.  Cut out shapes in the Styrofoam with the cookie cutters and yet still keep the frame of the styrofoam intact.  See if your child can place the cookie cutters back into their appropriate holes.        14. Give her a collection of pompoms that vary in colour and size and see if she can sort them by colour or size into several small dishes. For younger toddlers, put a sample pompom colour in each dish.   15. Gather a selection of primary colour paint chips or cut squares of card stock or construction paper.  Make sure you have several of the same colour.  Choose primary colours.  See if he can match the colours.  Initially, he may be just content to play with the colored chips stacking them or making patterns with them.

WATERMELON COOKIES Preheat oven to 325 degrees F., rack in the middle position. 1 package (.16-ounce) watermelon (or any other flavor) Kool-Aid powder (Don’t get the kind with sugar or sugar substitute added.) 1 and ⅔ cup white (granulated) sugar 1 and ½ cups softened butter (2 and ½ sticks, 10 ounces) 2 large eggs, beaten (just whip them up in a glass with a fork) ½ teaspoon salt 1 teaspoon baking soda 3 cups all-purpose flour (pack it down in the cup when you measure it) ½ cup white (granulated) sugar in a bowl Hannah’s 1st Note: When Brandi makes these cookies, she rolls them out on a floured board and uses cookie cutters. Rolled cookies take more time than other types of cookies, so Lisa and I modified Brandi’s recipe for use at The Cookie Jar. Mix the watermelon Kool-Aid with the granulated sugar. Add the softened butter and mix until it’s nice and fluffy. Add the eggs and mix well. Mix in the salt and the baking soda. Make sure they’re well incorporated. Add the flour in half-cup increments, mixing after each addition. Spray cookie sheets with Pam or another nonstick cooking spray. You can also use parchment paper if you prefer. Roll dough balls one inch in diameter with your hands. (We use a 2-teaspoon cookie scooper at The Cookie Jar.) Roll the cookie balls in the bowl of white sugar and place them on the cookie sheet, 12 to a standard-size sheet. Bake the Watermelon Cookies at 325 degrees F. for 10 to 12 minutes (mine took 11 minutes) or until they’re just beginning to turn golden around the edges. Don’t overbake. Let the cookies cool on the cookie sheets for no more than a minute, and then remove them to a wire rack to cool completely. Yield: Approximately 6 dozen pretty and unusual cookies that kids will adore, especially if you tell them that they’re made with Kool-Aid. Hannah’s 2nd Note: Brandi’s mother baked these cookies to send to school on birthdays. She

some reason the French love to laugh at Belgians. Belgian jokes are like Newfie jokes in Canada or Vermont jokes in New England (we can testify that the same cookie-cutter stories circulate freely between languages).

America is a nation of mavericks, not sheep. Our founding was defined by breaking the rules, tearing ourselves away from the colonial power of Great Britain, and forging a new country out of a vast wilderness. This could not have been pulled off by people who valued cookie-cutter conformism. Our Founders understood, like many Americans understand today, that bucking tradition is sometimes the only way to get things done.

They’re just cookie-cutter

I turned my wrist over and smiled at my very own butterfly imbedded artfully and permanently into my skin. It was simple…just a black outline...a cookie cutter tattoo.  At least that was what Max had called it. Gently I traced the outline and remembered the day I got it. I was just eighteen, and scared to death, but I wanted it so badly. To make me feel better, Max decided to get one as well. It would be his sixth tattoo…not his first time under the ink gun. He was a pro in my eyes and so having him there helped. He teased me about my choice saying I was too girly, but when the work was done, he had looked at me with admiration. “It suits you,” he had whispered. “It’s pretty and uncomplicated…just like you.” He’d leaned in and kissed me gently. I can still feel the scrape of his stubble and the warmth of his lips. The hazel eyes were earnest, as he pulled away. “What did you get?” I had asked, still overwhelmed by him. That crooked grin set the butterflies to flight in my stomach. He’d chuckled and went for the hem of his shirt, lifting it up on the left side. I’d seen the beautiful angel he had gone back time and time again to be finished. It was a twist of wings and shadows and it raveled down the entire rib cage ending just at his hip. It was a masterpiece.  I had admired it for an instant before I noticed the change. I had covered my mouth and gasped in surprise. Woven into one of the angel’s wings was my name.

Most people surrendered fairy tale hopes in exchange for cookie cutter lives

Why I was successful In 2014, I was 29 years old. I was selling against companies that had been in the QuickBooks integration business for five years or more. Some competitors had millions of dollars in venture capital. Their websites were the equivalent of a five-star hotel. These competitors had large sales and marketing teams that could easily show the value of their solution. The companies had a team of programmers. I had my pajamas, a corded phone, a cookie-cutter website, and a laptop computer. I signed up about three hundred new accounts because I was the first person to pick up the phone and I spoke English. I could answer questions on what my software can automate. If there was a problem, I called the customer and we did a screenshare. You need to talk to customers on the phone and you cannot email customers to death. Many customers later told me they reached out to competitors and received no response to sales or support inquiries. These customers said they chose my company because I was responsive. Potential customers want to speak to someone in their area who understands their language. You need to connect with them. Many people signed up for Connex because they liked me over the phone. We attract many small business owners. I had similar interests and I owned a business, just like them.

On the eigth day of Christmas … your true friends give to you, 8 cookie cutters 7 golden apples 6 holiday cups 5 angel note cards 4 gift boxes 3 rolls of gift wrap 2 bags of bows and … 1 Pointsettia for all of you.

How centralized should it be, and what exactly should be centralized? And what relationship would employees have to the company? Would the wait staff, say, at Union Square Cafe identify first with the restaurant or with Union Square Hospitality Group? “That’s something we debate internally a lot,” he said. “I’m quite comfortable with people having an allegiance first to their restaurant and secondarily to Union Square Hospitality Group. I’ve never veered from the notion that, to the degree these are great restaurants, we’ll be fine. To the degree they feel like cookie-cutter offshoots of a larger entity, who needs it?” It was an interesting balance to maintain. The restaurants would be recognizably part of Union Square Hospitality Group, and yet completely different from one another. They would have a common culture, but the feeling of each would be distinctive. They were like kids, Meyer said: Each would have its own personality, but you’d never doubt that they were members of the same family. Some of their DNA would be the same, and some different.

I marvel at how wildly different each of their stories is. It’s proof that our lives were never meant to be cookie-cutter, culturally constructed carbon copies of some ideal. There is no one way to live, love, raise children, arrange a family, run a school, a community, a nation. The norms were created by somebody, and each of us is somebody. We can make our own normal. We can throw out all the rules and write our own. We can build our lives from the inside out. We can stop asking what the world wants from us and instead ask ourselves what we want for our world. We can stop looking at what’s in front of us long enough to discover what’s inside us. We can remember and unleash the life-changing, relationship-changing, world-changing power of our own imagination. It might take us a lifetime. Luckily, a lifetime is exactly how long we have.

I’m convinced that, unfortunately, the general direction of rule changes for a long time has been to carve out greater space for the individual athlete while curbing the impact of team play. This narrows the opportunities to participate. In general, only “cookie cutter” athletic prodigies get serious looks. In my opinion, tinkering with the game to distort the natural balance between team and individual play is counterproductive.

Because New Jersey is the “Garden State,” I connected the word gardening to what was around me: large fields of grass for horse farms broken up by occasional forests, orchards, or corn fields that then abutted abruptly into cookie cutter housing developments and their smaller dollops of grass. That we lived in the smack middle of the state only solidified the association garden = grass

When it comes to social media, a lot of companies still don’t get it. They opt to use a “cookie cutter social media” approach instead of treating their accounts with the same respect as they would their corporate lines of credit or anything else that is critical to the business. They treat their social media as though it is something that can be mass produced and processed. This is the wrong approach to social media!

On the tenth day of Christmas your true friends give to you: Ten dancing Santas Nine Christmas candles Eight cookie cutters Seven golden apples Six holiday cups Five angel gift cards Four gift boxes Three rolls of gift wrap Two bags of bows and A poinsettia for all of you.

On the eleventh day of Christmas your true friends give to you … Eleven hungry mice Ten dancing Santas Nine candles Eight cookie cutters Seven golden apples Six holiday cups Five angel gift cards Four gift boxes Three rolls of gift wrap Two bags of bows and, One poinsettia for all of you.

On the Twelfth Day of Christmas Your true friends give to you … Twelve Brass Bells Eleven Christmas Mice Ten Dancing Santas Nine Candles Eight Cookie Cutters Seven Golden Apples Six Holiday Cups Five Angel Note Cards Four Gift Boxes Three Rolls of Gift Wrap Two Bags of Bows And One Poinsettia For All Of You.

You know, success in anything you do is doing what you love. Going to a job that is different every day is better than going to a cookie cutter job like so many folks have.

A good place to raise kids. The truth is he just couldn’t stand it anymore. The incredible freakin’ boredom. Couldn’t stand coming back from busts, the stakeouts, the roofs, the alleys, the chases to what, Hylan Plaza, Pathmark, Toys “R” Us, GameStop. He’d come home from a tour jacked up from speed, adrenaline, fear, anger, sadness, rage, and then go to someone’s cookie-cutter house to play Mexican Train or Monopoly or nickel poker. And they were nice people and he’d feel guilty sitting there sipping their wine coolers and making small talk when what he really wanted was to be back on the street in hot, smelly, noisy, dangerous, fun, interesting, stimulating, infuriating Harlem

Recipe for Bannock Ingredients: 2 cups all-purpose flour 2 tablespoons sugar 1/2 teaspoon baking powder 1/2 teaspoon baking soda 1/2 teaspoon salt 2 tablespoons butter 1 cup buttermilk 1/2 cup dried currants (optional) Directions: Combine flour, sugar, baking soda, baking powder, and salt. Cut butter into flour mixture with pastry cutter. Add buttermilk until dough is soft. Stir in currants. Turn dough out onto a lightly floured surface. Knead for 5 minutes, or until smooth. Form dough into a 7-inch round. Place on a lightly oiled cake pan or cookie sheet. Cut ½-inch deep cross side to side. Score with cross ½-inch deep on the top. Bake in a preheated 375 degrees F (190 degrees C) oven for 40 minutes.

I just mean, even if it was done for marketing, they are remarkable sculptures. It's easy to forget how much time goes into things like designing giant fighting robots for movies. It feels cookie-cutter, but thousands of person-hours go into their creation. We love them because they're beautiful, and they're beautiful because of hard work.

the environment. Silly things. Porcelain bells, the kind you get at souvenir shops. Cookie cutters you’ll never use, because who needs a cookie in the shape of a foot?

According to Amy Goodman, Gates owns investments in sixty-nine of the world’s worst-polluting companies.203 His single-minded obsession with vaccines seems to serve his impulse to monetize his charity and to achieve monopoly control over global public health policy. His strategies and corporate alliances in the food, public health, and education sectors may also reflect messianic conviction that he is ordained to save the world with technology, top-down centralized cookie-cutter solutions to complex human problems, and a godlike willingness to experiment with the lives of lesser humans. And Gates’s vaccine cartel has amassed Midas-like riches. Early in 2021, a TV interviewer, Becky Quick, observed that Gates had spent $10 billion on vaccines over the past two decades and asked Gates, “You’ve figured out the return on investment for that and it kind of stunned me. Can you walk us through the math?” Gates responded: “We see a phenomenal track record . . . there’s been over a 20-to-1 return. So if you just looked at the economic benefits, that’s a pretty strong number.” The interviewer pressed him: “If you had put that money into an S&P 500 and reinvested the dividends, you’d come up with something like $17 billion dollars, but you think it’s $200 billion dollars.” Gates continued: “Here, yeah,” hastening to add that “helping young children live, get the right nutrition, contribute to their countries, that has a payback that goes beyond any typical financial return.”204 The key to it all, he added, is “Having that big portfolio.” And the key to much of that portfolio is having Anthony Fauci.

That right there,” she whispers. “I want you to hold on to that. No matter what happens, you remember that this world is more than the agony it contains. We can have happiness, Salama. Maybe it doesn’t come in a cookie-cutter format, but we will take the fragments and we will rebuild it.

I didn't text you because I thought you'd probably run in the other direction," I snapped. "Or maybe back to Bloomingdale's for another smooch session with Clare." "Uh-oh. Trouble in paradise." Emma held out her hand, and Gage and Anil each handed her a twenty-dollar bill. "You took bets on us?" I stared at them, aghast. "You gotta admit that you two were always an unlikely couple," Emma said, pocketing the cash. "Bad-boy rogue thief with dubious underworld affiliations and no fixed address. Hardworking cookie-cutter good girl who worked in a candy store, spent her Friday nights watching crime shows with her octogenarian landlady, showed up every Sunday for dinner with the fam, and never refused a meet and greet with a prospective husband because she didn't want to let her parents down." "I organized a heist," I protested. "I was arrested for trying to break into a museum. I robbed a mob boss. I got so drunk I passed out on the floor. I did bad things." "In a good-girl way. No selfishness involved.

Lance sat on a commuter train from DC to New York. The train passed endless rows of cookie-cutter houses, warehouses, big-box retail stores. It looked like the world was becoming one big logistics solution.

Don’t ever become a slave to the trends. Cookie-cutter is never chic.

Love doesn’t have an expiration date, Katie. There is no cookie cutter for it, and there sure as hell aren’t instructions. It just is. Who says you can’t fall in love with someone who’s already broken your heart? Who says you can’t move on and then fall in love all over again from thousands of miles away via letters and emails? That’s the great thing about love … it finds you. And when it’s true love, it doesn’t go away, and you just know. You don’t have to wonder or guess, because it just … is.

This new way of consuming information and storytelling online doesn’t bode well for individuals or companies that create mediocre content and cookie-cutter storytelling. The new mentality says that if it’s not good or important, the group won’t share it. Furthermore, it no longer matters who created the content; if it doesn’t satisfy us, we’re not going to share or filter something up the food chain.

Bruce Horn: I thought that computers would be hugely flexible and we could be able to do everything and it would be the most mind-blowing experience ever. And instead we froze all of our thinking. We froze all the software and made it kind of industrial and mass-marketed. Computing went in the wrong direction: Computing went to the direction of commercialism and cookie-cutter. Jaron Lanier: My whole field has created shit. And it’s like we’ve thrust all of humanity into this endless life of tedium, and it’s not how it was supposed to be. The way we’ve designed the tools requires that people comply totally with an infinite number of arbitrary actions. We really have turned humanity into lab rats that are trained to run mazes. I really think on just the most fundamental level we are approaching digital technology in the wrong way. Andy van Dam: Ask yourself, what have we got today? We’ve got Microsoft Word and we’ve got PowerPoint and we’ve got Illustrator and we’ve got Photoshop. There’s more functionality and, for my taste, an easier-to-understand user interface than what we had before. But they don’t work together. They don’t play nice together. And most of the time, what you’ve got is an import/export capability, based on bitmaps: the lowest common denominator—dead bits, in effect. What I’m still looking for is a reintegration of these various components so that we can go back to the future and have that broad vision at our fingertips. I don’t see how we are going to get there, frankly. Live bits—where everything interoperates—we’ve lost that. Bruce Horn: We’re waiting for the right thing to happen to have the same type of mind-blowing experience that we were able to show the Apple people at PARC. There’s some work being done, but it’s very tough. And, yeah, I feel somewhat responsible. On the other hand, if somebody like Alan Kay couldn’t make it happen, how can I make it happen?

Gene was there to greet him when Daniel stepped out of the elevator. Gene smiled, but his eyes were screaming.

The black man lifted the large cup and drank deeply through the straw. Then he winked. A cold, acid wave of paranoid delusion crashed down, washing the carcass of Daniel's confidence onto some bone-colored beach for the vultures to pick.

Easy, son. You took quite a whack on the noggin," a voice said. At the foot of the bed was an insectile-looking doctor with a pervert's grin on his face and a stethoscope around his neck. The doctor was a praying mantis for a moment, until Daniel blinked himself back to reality.

I love men. Rather, I love little parts of their bodies, not the perfect parts, but rather their odd features and their unique traits that make of them stand out of this cookie cutter world we live in. Throw a name at me, and I can instantly tell you which feature makes my heart go thumpedy-thump. Cropper Rowe: lucious, mocha brown-colored mole on the back of his neck. Derek: long yet narrow sideburns. Thorsten: thick nose, which he broke skiing. Milo: jet black hair, slicked back to reveal forehead and a small dimple. Vincent: lower jawline as it curves up to his ears and the way his stubble grows on it. Thayer: his waist and how he wears his jeans low enough to expose his appendectomy scar. And I love Eugene's eyes. Not that they are clear blue, but that they have a kind shape. It sounds cliché, but they are soft, and when I look into them, I feel I've known him forever. The sadness still lingers deep inside them, but he smiles a lot. Maybe I'm mistaken and life has been kind to him. Maybe he's the positive kind of fellow for whom smiling comes easily, despite it all.

Are you looking for Home Builders in Chattanooga Custom Home Builder Chattanooga Serving Chattanooga, Lookout Mountain & Surrounding Areas We love to build homes for people. Our approach to each job is as unique as the individual. We truly are a custom home builder Chattanooga and you will never get an A, B or C selection from us. Our homes are as unique as our clients. Our goal in every project is to produce a timeless and personal expression of our client's dreams. We hope to enhance the lives of those who inhabit each home we build. You can structure and make, and manufacture the most superb spot on the planet. In any case, it takes individuals to make the fantasy a reality. This home is drywall complete, now ready for tile, hardwoods, and trim! Cole Construction is building the largest home under construction in Chattanooga! We are excited to be starting interior finishes as the selections vary greatly from shiplap to reclaimed weathered barn wood, rough sawn beams, tile, stone and more. Follow along with us as we detail this beautifully crafted home! Are you following our 5 months build? 100% completely custom, no A, B, or C options. We are aiming to compete with the cookie-cutter residential build timelines while executing completely unique new projects every time. This means new plans, new land, and unknown materials. Chattanooga’s premier custom home builder Chattanooga- Cole Construction has been a leading the way since 2009, specializing in new builds and home remodels." For more info, Please visit our website.

There’s no cookie cutter for sexy.

You got three seconds to explain what the fuck is going on before I paint this wall with your brain, man." Daniel's tired mind split further, and he could feel it preparing to snap. Then Echo pulled him away and slapped him across the face. "What in the fuck are you doing?" she screamed. The colors of the world grayed as the pain exploded to a rotting 70-piece orchestra between his temples; black spots danced in front of his eyes.

Daniel was laying in bed on a Saturday morning when the phone rang. The shrill tone caught in his ear like an audible fish hook and pulled him from the stream of unconsciousness, out of the warm waters of sleep and into the cold waking world.

There was a soft snikt as Ebin stepped forward, five inches of cold steel hopping from the ivory-handled switchblade in his hand. The agent had time to look surprised before the blade sunk into the side of his neck. He gargled and slapped at the knife and Ebin wrenched it to the side, cutting his throat almost to the spine. "Oh, Jesus." Simon was the only one to talk. Daniel stared in silent shock as the jugular vein burst and moonlit blood splashed back onto the pavement. The lifeless head lolled back, and the bitter grin slashed beneath it opened into a wide, dying dawn. Blood spurted out; it stained their shoes and pant legs, a thin line of it flicked across Ebin's face. He didn't wipe it off.

Really? Why an expert on me?" O'Brien's ego was a rabid, starving beast. Daniel fed it.

I happen to love carnivals.

This isn't a countertop sex kind of moment, Iris. What kind of moment is it, then? It's a showing you how beautiful you are moment.

Grammy always said that when a developer tells you that he builds elegant homes, it’s because he almost always throws together half-baked cookie cutter models of what twenty-five-year-old trophy brides deem tasteful. “Always consider it a tremendous service when a person tells you how honest he is,” she also said. “It’s a warning round. When they start talking about how honest they are, run. If you’re honest, you don’t need to talk about it. When you build elegant homes, you most certainly do not need to tout their elegance. If someone makes a point of telling you who he is, rather than showing you with his actions, you can bank

Some parents who send their teenagers to youth group are believers, some are disciples in progress, some are legalists, and some are more prone to licentious lifestyles. Some may even be unbelievers or simply believers who are still young and need to mature in their faith. It’s important to recognize the variety of parents we have and that there’s not a neat, cookie-cutter way to work with all of them.

How could there possibly be one cookie-cutter definition of success in so many diverse circumstances? And yet, that is the standard we too often apply when we use only external markers to define and measure success. What you need to remember is that it is your unique situation, and God’s will for you in it, that will define what God considers success — both for you personally and for the church, ministry, or team you lead. The challenge every leader and team must face is undertaking the slow and painstaking discernment work to identify precisely what that is for you at any given point in time.

Jean’s Rosemary, Olive, and Parmesan Sablés Sablés aux Olives, Romarin, et Parmesan I have a real affection for the sandy-textured cookies called biscuits sablés. Here is the savory version that Jean brought to our neighborhood cinema evening. They are extremely easy to make, provided your butter really is at room temperature when you start. Serve them with a glass of white wine and some plump dates; I can’t think of a better beginning to an evening en plein air. 10½ tablespoons unsalted butter 1¼ cups flour 2 scant teaspoons fresh rosemary, finely chopped 1 cup finely grated Parmesan cheese Black pepper 12 cured black olives, pitted and finely chopped An hour or two before you want to bake, take the butter out of the fridge. It needs to be really soft. Preheat the oven to 350°F. Line a large cookie sheet with parchment paper. In a medium mixing bowl, combine flour, rosemary, Parmesan, and a grinding of black pepper. Add the olives and the softened butter cut into three or four chunks. Knead the butter into the flour mixture with your hands until the ingredients are evenly distributed and a ball of dough has formed. Do not overwork the dough. Put the dough in the fridge for 10 minutes. Roll out the dough on a piece of parchment paper to a thickness of about ¼ inch. Using a 2½-inch biscuit cutter (the top of a glass will do just fine), cut 16 rounds. Bake on a sheet of parchment paper until fragrant and highly colored, 15 to 17 minutes. Cool on a wire rack. Store in an airtight container; they keep nicely for 2 to 3 days. Makes 16 cookies

After finishing their main course and dessert, she and Cady prepared her extra dish. Sophia had decided to make the girls' favorite dinner- beef tenderloin with peppercorn sauce. Soon enough they were plating and rushing back and forth to the huge banquet table set up in the courtyard. Pouring wine and adjusting garnishes and offering smiles to the judges. The ambience of this meal was Sophia's idea of romance. The table was draped with ivory linen and topped with glass jars of flowers. Bouquets of Rosa rugosa and Queen Anne's lace were nestled among votives and bottles of wine. The local glassblower had provided an assortment of pottery dishes and hand-blown goblets. Strands of white lights dangled from the surrounding trees. She and Elliott and the girls plated together, having reached some sort of exhausted Zen state. Emilia scooped the risotto, Elliott placed the salmon on top, Sophia added the three tiny sides shaped with a round cookie cutter. Elliott drizzled his sauce onto the final product. He brushed his shoulder against Sophia each time, needing that physical connection. The plates looked exquisite, artistic. Perfect. She tried to ignore the overwhelming stress of the moment and focus on the food. Cady and Emilia added garnishes- fresh herbs and flowers. And Cady had a whole sheet of candied violets ready to sprinkle on their dessert. It made Elliott laugh and tease them all about being a family of garden sprites. When they finally got to the head of the table and faced a sea of critics, Sophia felt confident about their choices. They'd prepared a beautiful meal that successfully showcased Elliott's love for Scottish tradition, local Vermont products, and the Brown family's love of fresh vegetables and herbs. All the components meshed together into one cohesive meal.

It’s a cookie cutter high school. Except for the putrid color of the walls and the name on the sign, it’s an exact replica of the last one I attended. Margot—she made me drop the aunt part because it makes her feel old—turns down the radio she’s been blaring the entire way here. Thankfully it’s a short ride, because loud sounds make me edgy.

As far as surrounding the “area,” someone wanna tell me where that area actually begins? Cities weren’t cities anymore, you know, they just grew out into this suburban sprawl. Mrs. Ruiz, one of our medics, called it “in-fill.” She was in real estate before the war and explained that the hottest properties were always the land between two existing cities. Freakin’ “in-fill,” we all learned to hate that term. For us, it meant clearing block after block of burbland before we could even think of establishing a quarantine perimeter. Fast-food joints, shopping centers, endless miles of cheap, cookie-cutter housing.

Charlotte’s Jammy Biscuits Makes 5 dozen 1 cup shortening 1 cup granulated sugar 1 cup packed brown sugar 2 eggs ¼ cup sour milk or buttermilk 1 teaspoon vanilla 3½ cups all-purpose flour 1 teaspoon baking powder 1 teaspoon baking soda 1 teaspoon salt 1 teaspoon ground nutmeg Blackberry, raspberry, or strawberry jam Preheat oven to 350 degrees Fahrenheit. In a large bowl, cream the shortening and the sugars. Add the eggs, milk, and vanilla; mix till smooth. Stir together the flour, baking powder, baking soda, salt, and nutmeg; stir into the creamed mixture. Cover and chill. On a floured surface, roll the dough to an 1/8-inch thickness. Use a cookie cutter to cut the dough into 1½-inch rounds. Place 1 teaspoon of jam each on half the rounds; use the remaining rounds to top the jam-topped rounds. Lightly seal the edges with a fork. With a sharp knife, cut shallow crisscross slits in the tops of the cookies, to allow the steam to vent during baking. Bake until golden, 10 to 15 minutes.

There is no cookie cutter answer to what is right or wrong. It's personal, just like whether you have a baby or not is and should be a personal choice.

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To Be a Builder... To be a Builder is to claim authority and agency for your own life. It means having a bold vision and taking big swings. To be a builder means you want a unique life. Dare to carve out. Dare to uniquely exist. Dare to defy-cookie-cutter culture. No matter if you're eighteen or eighty. To be a Builder is to develop deep power base. Prioritizing foundations first. Where you power you to power yourself. Then power others. To be Builder is to move in the direction of bravery. Trying, building, if blocked or broken down, taking things back down to the studs to try again until the good stuff stacks.

I'm fighting for beauty. A lot of people get confused by that because the only definition of beauty that they've inherited is so basic and flat that they just associate beauty with that commodity that we're told grants people power. That is not what I'm saying. What I'm saying is: Beauty is your soul's fingerprint on the earth, and no one else in the world can have your beauty. Beauty is when I'm speaking to someone and I'm like: I could talk to you for the rest of my life because I can finally breathe again. The world for me is a series of drowning and then having conversations with people where I can finally breathe again. And the reason I can breathe is because it's you, it's not that imprint of what you've been told - the cookie-cutter sheet that says: Hi, I only know myself from my identities. So beauty work for me is actually deep healing work to say: Who am I outside of what I've been told I should be? Beauty is about that attitude of showing up and saying: I'm worthy of being here. -Alok

It seemed fitting that a cookie-cutter mansion housed my cookie-obsessed bride. With its fresh coat of white paint, black shutters, imperial columns, and bright-red door, the pre-War Colonial could grace the pages of Southern Living.

=Filled Cookies= 1 Cupful of Sugar 1/2 Cupful of Butter or Lard 1 Cupful of Milk 3 1/2 Cupfuls of Flour 2 Teaspoonfuls of Cream of Tartar 1 Teaspoonful of Soda 1 Tablespoonful of Vanilla Roll thin and cut with a cooky-cutter.

Hell, Lammergeier Lane wasn’t even cookie-cutter enough to be Stepford Wives material. If a serial killer tried to break in, he’d be up against Mr. Pressley, and my money was not on the serial killer.

Snow Creek was punched into the hills and mountains by logging companies more than fifty years ago. After the spotted owl put a halt to things, Olympic, Weyerhaeuser and Puget Logging sold off parcels at bargain rates—because there were no public utilities like water or power or sewer. That was fine for the folks that decided they’d rather live in a lonely world of their own making than the cookie-cutter places they came from. Some were hippie types—at least by the looks of them. Beads, flannel shirts and jeans so dirty they could walk across town on their own. Others came to do things verboten in the outside world. Pot growers, mostly. Some were believers in the occult—or at least pretended to be. A writhing mass of naked people under the moon was something no one would ever see in suburbia where the nosey neighbors lived with 911 on speed dial.

I don’t want to get to the end of my days and look back to see a cookie-cutter life that looks like what society says a normal life should be. I don’t want average. I don’t want the easiest path. I want to know God intimately, deeply. And I want my life to defy human explanation.