Decorating Cookies Quotes

She has never been in the presence, before, of two people who are in love with each other. She feels like a stray child, ragged and cold, with her nose pressed to a lighted window. A toy-store window, a bakery window, with fancy cakes and decorated cookies. Poverty prevents her entrance. These things are for other people; nothing for her.

Almost every family has their own Christmas traditions (if, indeed, they celebrate Christmas) and we certainly had several. First, the house was thoroughly cleaned and decorated with wreaths and paper chains and, of course, the Christmas tree with all its sparkling lights and ornaments. The cardboard nativity scene had to be carefully assembled and placed on the mantle. And there was the advent wreath with its little windows to be opened each morning. And then there were the Christmas cookies. About a week before the holiday, Mom would bake several batches of the cookies and I invited all my friends to come and help decorate them. It was an “all-afternoon” event. We gathered around our big round dining table with bowls of colored icing and assorted additions—red hot candies, coconut flakes, sugar “glitter,” chocolate chips, and any other little bits we could think of. Then, the decorating began!

Through the glass was a marvelous display of layered cakes decorated with pink rosettes and candied fruits, chocolate-laced cookies, and buttery pastries dotted with jam.

Exhibit D: The Cots (or, If You Give a Librarian a Closet) If you give a librarian a closet, she will probably fill it with junk. If she fills it with junk, some of the junk will be books in need of repair. If some of the junk is books, and the closet is off of a back room anyway, she will hide more books there, books that she thinks are crap like the Stormy Sisters series, but which her boss thinks the library should keep. If she hides crappy books there, she will be in no rush to clean the closet, since she would then be out a hiding place. If she goes ten months without cleaning it, she will go to great lengths to hide the mess from her alcoholic and temperamental boss. If she wants to hide the mess from her boss, she will stuff the front of the closet with cots that were once used for nap hour of the short-lived library day care, circa 1996. If she stuffs the closet with cots… the closet will fester unopened for months. If the closet festers unopened for months, the librarian will probably decorate the closet door with cartoons and posters in an effort to distract her fellow librarians from the thought of ever opening the closet. If a librarian decorates a closet door, she will use such items as a Conan the Librarian cartoon, a large stocker that says “the world is quiet here,” a poster of If You Give a Mouse a Cookie, a CPR chart, and a bookstore café napkin signed by Michael Chabon. If she uses these items, her boss will ask, “What the hell does this mean, ‘The world is quiet here’? Is it political?” And her boss will also ask, “you’re not filing Michael Chabon in the children’s section, are you?” but her boss, distracted by these items, will never think to open the door. If her boss never opens the door, she will forget she has given the librarian a closet and will, by the end of the year, offer the librarian a second closet. If she gives the librarian a second closet, the librarian will probably fill it with junk.

Deacon met my glare with an impish grin. “Anyway, did you celebrate Valentine’s Day when you were slumming with the mortals?” I blinked. “Not really. Why?” Aiden snorted and then disappeared into one of the rooms. “Follow me,” Deacon said. “You’re going to love this. I just know it.” I followed him down the dimly-lit corridor that was sparsely decorated. We passed several closed doors and a spiral staircase. Deacon went through an archway and stopped, reaching along the wall. Light flooded the room. It was a typical sunroom, with floor-to-ceiling glass windows, wicker furniture, and colorful plants. Deacon stopped by a small potted plant sitting on a ceramic coffee table. It looked like a miniature pine tree that was missing several limbs. Half the needles were scattered in and around the pot. One red Christmas bulb hung from the very top branch, causing the tree to tilt to the right. “What do you think?” Deacon asked. “Um… well, that’s a really different Christmas tree, but I’m not sure what that has to do with Valentine’s Day.” “It’s sad,” Aiden said, strolling into the room. “It’s actually embarrassing to look at. What kind of tree is it, Deacon?” He beamed. “It’s called a Charlie Brown Christmas Tree.” Aiden rolled his eyes. “Deacon digs this thing out every year. The pine isn’t even real. And he leaves it up from Thanksgiving to Valentine’s Day. Which thank the gods is the day after tomorrow. That means he’ll be taking it down.” I ran my fingers over the plastic needles. “I’ve seen the cartoon.” Deacon sprayed something from an aerosol can. “It’s my MHT tree.” “MHT tree?” I questioned. “Mortal Holiday Tree,” Deacon explained, and smiled. “It covers the three major holidays. During Thanksgiving it gets a brown bulb, a green one for Christmas, and a red one for Valentine’s Day.” “What about New Year’s Eve?” He lowered his chin. “Now, is that really a holiday?” “The mortals think so.” I folded my arms. “But they’re wrong. The New Year is during the summer solstice,” Deacon said. “Their math is completely off, like most of their customs. For example, did you know that Valentine’s Day wasn’t actually about love until Geoffrey Chaucer did his whole courtly love thing in the High Middle Ages?” “You guys are so weird.” I grinned at the brothers. “That we are,” Aiden replied. “Come on, I’ll show you your room.” “Hey Alex,” Deacon called. “We’re making cookies tomorrow, since it’s Valentine’s Eve.” Making cookies on Valentine’s Eve? I didn’t even know if there was such a thing as Valentine’s Eve. I laughed as I followed Aiden out of the room. “You two really are opposites.” “I’m cooler!” Deacon yelled from his Mortal Holiday Tree room

Do you want some help?" said Anouk, watching me bring out the big glass jars of raisins and cherries and sprinkles and nuts to decorate the mendiants. I smiled. "Of course. My favorites." It has been a long time since Anouk wanted to help me make chocolates. Now she does, as a child might play with her favorite toys for one last time before putting them aside for ever. Almonds, candied lemon peel, fat black cherries, green cardamom, and a sprinkle of edible gold to highlight the rich dark chocolate. Once sold by travelers door-to-door, these are kings and queens of the road, gilded, glossy and glorious. "I made mine into faces," she said. I smiled at her. "You always did.

In her younger years, Ginger had dressed in ordinary, drab clothing so she wouldn't call attention to herself. She'd even tried to hide her bright pink hair with a scarf. Her goal in those days had been to blend in and not be recognized as the daughter of the Candy Witch, because even a whispered mention of the word "witch" made people unnerved. But now, as a student at Ever After High, she'd come to realize that she was more than her legacy. She was her own person, and her passion was baking scrumptious treats, not wicked treats as her mother did. She began to dress the way that pleased her, adorning herself with cheerful colors, candy accents, and swirls, as if decorating a cake or cookie.

Marie Antoinette would have loved this place!" Piper Donovan stood agape, her green eyes opened wide, as she took in the magical space. Crystal chandeliers, dripping with glittering prisms, hung from the mirrored ceiling. Gilded moldings crowned the pale pink walls. Gleaming glass cases displayed vibrant fruit tarts, puffy éclairs, and powdered beignets. Exquisitely decorated cakes of all flavors and sizes rested on pedestals alongside trays of pastel meringues and luscious napoleons. Cupcakes, cookies, croissants, and cream-filled pastries dusted with sugar or drizzled with chocolate beckoned from the shelves. "It's unbelievable," she whispered. "I feel like I've walked into a jewel box---one made of confectioners' sugar but a jewel box nonetheless.

DOLL FACE COOKIES Preheat oven to 375 degrees F., rack in the middle position. (THESE COOKIES HAVE NO EGGS) ½ cup melted butter (1 stick) 1 cup brown sugar, tightly packed ½ cup molasses*** 1 teaspoon baking soda ½ teaspoon salt ½ teaspoon cinnamon 1 teaspoon lemon juice ½ cup milk 2½ cups flour (no need to sift) 1 cup (approximately) golden raisins, regular raisins, or currants to decorate Melt butter in a large microwave bowl. When the butter has cooled to room temperature, stir in the brown sugar and molasses. Add the soda, salt, and cinnamon and mix it all up. Mix in the teaspoon of lemon juice. Add half the flour to your bowl and mix it up. Slowly pour in the milk, a little at a time, and mix as you go. Add the rest of the flour and stir until it’s thoroughly incorporated. Drop the dough by rounded teaspoon onto UNGREASED cookie sheets, 12 to a standard-size sheet. Put three raisins on top of each cookie, two for the eyes and one for the mouth. Bake for 10 to 12 minutes at 375 degrees F. Let the cookies cool on the sheet for 2 minutes and then transfer them to a wire rack to cool completely. Yield: 4 to 5 dozen, depending on cookie size. Immelda Giese,

Alice's Cutie Code TM Version 2.1 - Colour Expansion Pack (aka Because this stuff won’t stop being confusing and my friends are mean edition) From Red to Green, with all the colours in between (wait, okay, that rhymes, but green to red makes more sense. Dang.) From Green to Red, with all the colours in between Friend Sampling Group: Fennie, Casey, Logan, Aisha and Jocelyn Green  Friends’ Reaction: Induces a minimum amount of warm and fuzzies. If you don’t say “aw”, you’re “dead inside”  My Reaction: Sort of agree with friends minus the “dead inside” but because that’s a really awful thing to say. Puppies are a good example. So is Walter Bishop. Green-Yellow  Friends’ Reaction: A noticeable step up from Green warm and fuzzies. Transitioning from cute to slightly attractive. Acceptable crush material. “Kissing.”  My Reaction: A good dance song. Inspirational nature photos. Stuff that makes me laugh. Pairing: Madison and Allen from splash Yellow  Friends’ Reaction: Something that makes you super happy but you don’t know why. “Really pretty, but not too pretty.” Acceptable dating material. People you’d want to “bang on sight.”  My Reaction: Love songs for sure! Cookies for some reason or a really good meal. Makes me feel like it’s possible to hold sunshine, I think. Character: Maxon from the selection series. Music: Carly Rae Jepsen Yellow-Orange  Friends’ Reaction: (When asked for non-sexual examples, no one had an answer. From an objective perspective, *pushes up glasses* this is the breaking point. Answers definitely skew toward romantic or sexual after this.)  My Reaction: Something that really gets me in my feels. Also art – oil paintings of landscapes in particular. (What is with me and scenery? Maybe I should take an art class) Character: Dean Winchester. Model: Liu Wren. Orange  Friends’ Reaction: “So pretty it makes you jealous. Or gay.”  “Definitely agree about the gay part. No homo, though. There’s just some really hot dudes out there.”(Feenie’s side-eye was so intense while the others were answering this part LOLOLOLOLOL.) A really good first date with someone you’d want to see again.  My Reaction: People I would consider very beautiful. A near-perfect season finale. I’ve also cried at this level, which was interesting. o Possible tie-in to romantic feels? Not sure yet. Orange-Red  Friends’ Reaction: “When lust and love collide.” “That Japanese saying ‘koi no yokan.’ It’s kind of like love at first sight but not really. You meet someone and you know you two have a future, like someday you’ll fall in love. Just not right now.” (<-- I like this answer best, yes.) “If I really, really like a girl and I’m interested in her as a person, guess. I’d be cool if she liked the same games as me so we could play together.”  My Reaction: Something that gives me chills or has that time-stopping factor. Lots of staring. An extremely well-decorated room. Singers who have really good voices and can hit and hold superb high notes, like Whitney Houston. Model: Jasmine Tooke. Paring: Abbie and Ichabod from Sleepy Hollow o Romantic thoughts? Someday my prince (or princess, because who am I kidding?) will come? Red (aka the most controversial code)  Friends’ Reaction: “Panty-dropping levels” (<-- wtf Casey???).  “Naked girls.” ”Ryan. And ripped dudes who like to cook topless.”  “K-pop and anime girls.” (<-- Dear. God. The whole table went silent after he said that. Jocelyn was SO UNCOMFORTABLE but tried to hide it OMG it was bad. Fennie literally tried to slap some sense into him.)  My Reaction: Uncontrollable staring. Urge to touch is strong, which I must fight because not everyone is cool with that. There may even be slack-jawed drooling involved. I think that’s what would happen. I’ve never seen or experienced anything that I would give Red to.

So, we’ve got a problem,” I said. “What?” Lend yelled. “We’ve got a problem!” I shouted. “No, I heard that. I mean, what’s the problem now?” “I have the solution!” Jack interrupted. “What?” I sat up, all ears. “Bells!” “What?” Lend and I asked at the same time. “Get her a kitty collar with bells on it. That way you can hear her coming and get someplace where you won’t be hurt by collapsing immediately into sleep.” There was a thumping noise, followed by an indignant “Ow!” from Jack. “The problem,” I said, “is that Raquel is going on trial with IPCA and I am not about to let them lock her up forever.” She was my Raquel. How dare they. My fear was quickly shifting to anger. Tasing me was one thing. But if they thought they could get away with persecuting the very best person they’d ever had working for them, they had another think coming. “Where?” Jack asked. “At the Center,” David answered, coming down the stairs, but he was cut off by Lend snapping, “You aren’t involved in this, Jack.” “Oh, I think you want me involved. I believe I’m the only one here who has ever been to a disciplinary hearing. Five, actually. I was shooting for my lucky number seven, but alas, IPCA and I parted ways too soon.” That settled it. A cheery band we’d make, no doubt. I’d been looking forward to starting some new Christmas traditions this year. Simple things. Reading the Grinch. Decorating a tree. Making cookies. Storming the Center to rescue the closest person I’d ever had to a mom. The usual holiday fare. Merry freaking Christmas.

Cassie makes the best sugar cookies. I think we’ll have everything to make those. It’s a tradition to cut them out with Lacy every year and then decorate them with powdered sugar icing.” Noah laughed. “We started getting Lacy involved when she was three. You should have seen the mess in that kitchen the first year.

There is a definite romance that buzzes and ticks and takes you by the elbow when Christmastime arrives in the city. It’s something about the lights. The way the wreaths dress up the streetlamps. How everyone seems to commute home at night with much more purpose, and I often found myself wondering what they were barreling back for. If it was a tree that needed to be decorated, or cookies needing to be frosted, or just someone worth holding all winter long.

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.

The caterer would like to use your sideboard buffet for the skull platters, raven plates, and broomstick-style forks. The florist will provide a bouquet of black roses. The cauldron punch and batwing cups will go on the dining room table." "Menu?" Amelia requested. "We'd discussed finger food last week. What did you finally decide?" Grace ticked off the items. "All the food is easy to eat while standing," she assured Amelia. "Chicken-witch fingers, miniature goblin burgers, chocolate crescent witch hats, ghost sugar cookies, pumpkin Bundt cake, sliced caramel apples, small popcorn balls, and a big bowl of candy corn.

Presents!” Jack shouted. “Christmas carols!” Kate shouted. “Presents!” Jack shouted. “Cookies!” Kate shouted. “Presents!” Jack shouted. “A Christmas tree!” Kate shouted. “Presents!” Jack shouted. “Decorations!” Kate shouted. “Presents!” Jack shouted.

Perhaps she could do something nice for Mama instead of buying her things. She might see if she could keep the house tidied for her or find out one of the farm tasks that Mama didn’t love and do it for her. One thing was for sure: Elizabeth had all she wanted just being there with Mama. Maybe being with each other was gift enough. Later that day, when Elizabeth and Mama arrived at Beatrice’s house for her party, the door opened, and instead of the warm, arm-stretched hello Elizabeth had gotten as a child, a middle-aged woman stood in front of them. The woman had mousy hair swept into an updo, eyes that almost disappeared when she smiled, and a hunter-green corduroy dress with Christmas trees printed all over it. Her gaze fluttering over to Elizabeth, she beckoned them inside. “I’m Ella, Ray’s wife,” she told Elizabeth. “Nice to meet you,” Elizabeth said as Ella beamed at her over her shoulder, while her mother swung the gift bag with the kitchen dish and towel set she’d gotten for Beatrice by her side. Ella ushered them down the narrow hallway of the house to the kitchen that smelled of sugar and butter. The long rectangular farmhouse table was covered in Christmas cupcakes on pedestals, all of them decorated with different green and red icing shapes, assortments of holiday cookies, and platters of food. Ray was perusing the fare, pinching a few crackers with cheese, a paper plate in his weathered hand.

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.

since the accident. I don’t know what her problem was. After all, I was a “hero.” At least the newspaper said so. “Hey, Alex,” she said, twirling her ponytail with her pencil. “Oh, hi,” I stammered, looking down at my burger. “You guys sounded really great in the talent show. I didn’t know you could sing like that.” “Uhh, thanks. It must be all the practice I get with my karaoke machine.” Oh God, did I just tell her I sing karaoke? Definitely not playing it cool, I thought to myself. TJ butted in, “Yeah, Small Fry was ok, but I really carried the show with my awesome guitar solo.” He smiled proudly. “Shut up, TJ,” I said, tossing a fry at him, which hit him between the eyes. “Hey, watch it, Baker. Just because you’re a ‘hero’ doesn’t mean I won’t pummel you.” “Yeah, right,” I said, smiling. Emily laughed. “Maybe we could come over during Christmas break and check out your karaoke machine. Right, Danielle?” Danielle rolled her eyes and sighed. “Yeah, whatever.” I gulped. “Uhhh…yeah…that sounds great.” “Ok, give me your hand,” she said. “My hand,” I asked, surprised. “Yep,” she said, grabbing my wrist and opening my palm. “Here’s my number,” she said, writing the numbers 585-2281 in gold glitter pen on my palm.” I will never wash my hand again, I thought to myself. “Text me over break, ok?” she said, smiling brightly. “Yeah, sure,” I nodded, as she walked away giggling with Danielle. “Merry Christmas to me!” I whispered to TJ and Simon. “Yeah, there’s just one problem, Dufus,” TJ said. “Oh yeah, what’s that, TJ? That she didn’t give you her number?” I asked. “No, Dork. How are you going to text her if you don’t have a cell phone?” He smiled. “Oh, right,” I said, slumping down in my seat. “That could be a problem.” “You could just call her on your home phone,” Simon suggested, wiping his nose with a napkin. “Yeah, sure,” TJ chuckled. “Hi Emily, this is Alex Baker calling from the year 1984.” He held his pencil to his ear like a phone.  “Would you like to come over to play Atari? Then maybe we can solve my Rubik’s Cube while we break dance ….and listen to New Kids on the Block.” He was cracking himself up and turning bright red. “Maybe I’ll type you a love letter on my typewriter. It’s so much cooler than texting.” “Shut up, TJ,” I said, smiling. “I’m starting to remember why I didn’t like you much at the beginning of the year.” “Lighten up, Baker. I’m just bustin’ your chops. Christmas is coming. Maybe Santa will feel sorry for your dorky butt and bring you a cell phone.” Chapter 2 ePhone Denied When I got home from school that day, it was the perfect time to launch my cell phone campaign. Mom was in full Christmas mode. The house smelled like gingerbread. She had put up the tree and there were boxes of ornaments and decorations on the floor. I stepped over a wreath and walked into the kitchen. She was baking sugar cookies and dancing around the kitchen to Jingle Bell Rock with my little brother Dylan. My mom twirled Dylan around and smiled. She was wearing the Grinch apron that we had given her last Christmas. Dylan was wearing a Santa hat, a fake beard, and of course- his Batman cape. Batman Claus. “Hey Honey. How was school?” she asked, giving Dylan one more spin. “It was pretty good. We won second place in the talent show.” I held up the candy cane shaped award that Ms. Riley had given us. “Great job! You and TJ deserved it. You practiced hard and it payed off.” “Yeah, I guess so,” I said, grabbing a snicker-doodle off the counter. “And now it’s Christmas break! I bet your excited.” She took a tray of cookies out of the oven and placed

The tower of cookies was high enough to touch the lanterns Mrs. Belmagio and Mrs. Vaci brought in a five-tiered chocolate cake, meticulously decorated with plump crimson cherries and hazelnut frosting. Each layer was shaped like a scalloped bowl, meant to resemble the fountain in Pariva's central square, and topped with a generous sprinkling of bluebell petals. But what made Chiara tear up were the cards pressed carefully into the cake, each on a sliced piece of cork---messages from every friend, neighbor, child, and elder she had ever known. We'll miss you. May you spread your light and make all of Esperia bright.

Cut into shapes and preheat oven to 350. Bake & cool. Depending on size, the cookies take about 10-12 minutes. I like smaller pop in my mouth cookies as I don't feel any guilt over having 2-3.  Decorate with frosting or icing of your choice. I like quick icing of:  1 and 1/2 cups powdered sugar 1/2 tsp. pure vanilla or almond extract 1 tsp. light corn syrup 1 – 2.5 Tbsp. milk pinch salt Whisk all together and dip top of cookies. Leave on counter until tops are dry. Takes 18-24 hours to harden, so keep that in mind.  And be sure to use sprinkles—LOTS AND LOTS OF SPRINKLES! :-) ENJOY!

We decorate the heart-shaped snickerdoodles in pink and lilac frosting, topping each one with a tiny rosebud. Roisin brews a pot of passion fruit tea, sweetening it with honey before pouring it over a glass of ice and coconut milk. It turns a cloudy purple color. "This is a specialty at Petals Tea Shop," Roisin says. "Your auntie Laina named it the Midnight Rose Garden. It's one of my favorites." "It's wonderful," I say, taking a sip. It reminds me of family trips I used to take to Hawaii. My parents always said I was such a happy kid and didn't know what went wrong as I grew up. The passion fruit spilling over my tongue transports me back to placid waters--- ones that never whispered. The kind of waves that turtles call home and coral reefs burn bright. The same waves that culled my sunburnt shoulders, kissing my welted flesh and telling me I was okay. I was safe here. The water was safe. With Roisin, I am safe.

Sundays when they could come, my mother would bring a piece of cake and some cookies from the bakery. Of course, the cookies and the cake were past their prime, but that was just the way I liked them. I really don’t know how happy my parents were to see me since most of the time they were there; they would talk to my teachers in conference, and then tell me all the things I had supposedly done wrong. Sadly, I would always wind up with a lecture on how bad I had been and what was expected of me. It was something I had grown to expect, but more importantly, I was grateful for the cake and pastries. I have no idea why, but they also brought me cans of condensed milk. I can only guess that they believed that the thick syrupy milk, super saturated with sweet, sweet, sugar, would give me the energy I needed to think better. After one such visit, I made the mistake of leaving my cake unattended. It didn’t take long before it grew legs and ran off. I couldn’t believe that one of my schoolmates would steal my cake, not at a Naval Honor School! Nevertheless, not being able to determine who the villains were, I hatched a plan to catch the culprits the next time around. Some months later when my parents returned to check on my progress, my mother brought me a beautiful double-layer chocolate cake. This time I was ready, having bought all the Ex-Lax the pharmacy in Toms River had on hand. Using a hot plate, I heated the Ex-Lax until it liquefied, and then poured the sticky brown substance all over the cake in a most decorative way. With that, I placed the cake on my desk and invitingly left the door open to my dorm room. I wasn’t away long before this cake also grew legs, and, lo and behold, it also disappeared. The expected happened, and somewhat later I found the culprits in the boys’ bathroom, having a miserable time of it. Laughingly, I identified them as the culprits, but didn’t turn them in. It was enough that I caught them with their pants down!

Hints of gingerbread scents were in the air as Chloe opened the Christmas Shop door. Shelly was no less baking in the back and Chloe was determined to help decorate the cookies. Or houses. Whichever.

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.

We are no different today, friends. We get caught up in the season, busily making preparations for Christmas. We decorate, bake cookies, shop, and wrap presents, and yet we aren't truly ready. We aren't waiting with great expectations. Our hearts aren't prepared to receive this holy guest, this heavenly visitor.

PEPPER COOKIES WITH ICING SUGAR The baking of pepper cookies in close collaboration with a child is a permanent feature in any household with a kid in the lead-up to Christmas. 150 grams of sugar, 250 grams of syrup, ½ teaspoon of pepper, 2 teaspoons of ginger, 2 teaspoons of cinnamon, ½ teaspoon of cloves, 125 grams of butter, 1 egg, 2 teaspoons of baking soda, 400 grams of flour. Mix the sugar, syrup and butter and bring to simmering point. Mix in the baking soda with all the spices, pepper, ginger, cinnamon and cloves. Then add the egg and flour. Keep 1–2 cups of flour to knead the dough. Knead the dough on the table with the child. Roll out the dough and let the child cut out the shapes him/herself (Santa Clauses, Christmas trees, bells, angels and reindeer) and decorate the cookies with the icing. Icing: 125 grams of icing sugar and 1–1½ egg whites mixed well together. Colour according to taste.

Three square tiers of hazelnut cake filled with caramel mousse and sliced poached pears, sealed with vanilla buttercream scented with pear eau-de-vie. It's covered in a smooth expanse of ivory fondant decorated with what appear to be natural branches of pale green dogwood but are actually gum paste and chocolate, and with almost-haphazard sheer spheres of silvery blown sugar, as if a child came by with a bottle of bubbles and they landed on the cake. On the top, in lieu of the traditional bride and groom, is a bottle of Dexter's favorite Riesling in a bow tie and a small three-tier traditional wedding cake sporting a veil, both made out of marzipan. It took me the better part of the last three weeks to make this cake. Not to mention the loaves of banana bread, the cellophane bags of pine nut shortbread cookies, and the little silver boxes of champagne truffles in the gift bags. And the vanilla buttermilk panna cottas we're serving with balsamic-macerated berries as the pre-dessert before the cake. And the hand-wrapped caramels and shards of toffee and dark-chocolate-covered candied ginger slices that will be served with the coffee.

But not everyone finds the terra-cotta warriors charming. “Chinese people would never put that in a restaurant,” Jim told me, pointing at the statues. “It’s not lucky. It’s something you put in burial site! But in America, they think it’s a Chinese thing.” From a Chinese perspective, P. F. Chang’s is decorated with death.

Directly in front of them, dressed in white jerseys and forming a little protective phalanx, were the Pepettes, a select group of senior girls who made up the school spirit squad. The Pepettes supported all teams, but it was the football team they supported most. The number on the white jersey each girl wore corresponded to that of the player she had been assigned for the football season. With that assignment came various time-honored responsibilities. As part of the tradition, each Pepette brought some type of sweet for her player every week before the game. She didn’t necessarily have to make something from scratch, but there was indirect pressure to because of not-so-private grousing from players who tired quickly of bags of candy and not so discreetly let it be known that they much preferred something fresh-baked. If she had to buy something store-bought, it might as well be beer, and at least one player was able to negotiate such an arrangement with his Pepette during the season. Instead of getting a bag of cookies, he got a six-pack of beer. In addition, each Pepette also had to make a large sign for her player that went in his front yard and stayed there the entire season as a notice to the community that he played football for Permian. Previously the making of these yard signs, which looked like miniature Broadway marquees, had become quite competitive. Some of the Pepettes spent as much as $100 of their own money to make an individual sign, decorating it with twinkling lights and other attention-getting devices. It became a rather serious game of can-you-top-this, and finally a dictum was handed down that all the signs must be made the same way, without any neon.

My parents had to work on most weekends, and thus were infrequent visitors to Admiral Farragut Academy. However, on those Sundays when they could come, my mother would bring a cake and some cookies from the bakery. Of course, the cookies and the cake were past their prime, but that was just the way I liked them. I really don’t know how happy my parents were to see me since most of the time they were there; they would talk to my teachers in conference, and then tell me all the things I had supposedly done wrong. Sadly, I would always wind up with a lecture on how bad I had been and what was expected of me. It was something I had grown to expect, but more importantly, I was grateful for the cake and pastries. I have no idea why, but they also brought me cans of condensed milk. I can only guess that they believed that the thick syrupy milk, super saturated with sweet, sweet, sugar, would give me the energy I needed to think better. After one such visit, I made the mistake of leaving my cake unattended. It didn’t take long before it grew legs and ran off. I couldn’t believe that one of my schoolmates would steal my cake, not at a Naval Honor School! Nevertheless, not being able to determine who the villains were, I hatched a plan to catch the culprits the next time around. Some months later when my parents returned to check on my progress, my mother brought me a beautiful double-layer chocolate cake. This time I was ready, having bought all the Ex-Lax the pharmacy in Toms River had on hand. Using a hot plate, I heated the Ex-Lax until it liquefied, and then poured the sticky brown substance all over the cake in a most decorative way. With that, I placed the cake on my desk and invitingly left the door open to my dorm room. I wasn’t away long before this cake also grew legs, and, lo and behold, it also disappeared. The expected happened, and somewhat later I found the culprits in the boys’ bathroom, having a miserable time of it. Laughingly, I identified them as the culprits, but didn’t turn them in. It was enough that I caught them with their pants down!

Okay, well, here are the best or most popular picks who still have one opening left: Heather Herr, Blair, Heidi, Noel, Heather Long, and Amy.” Ashton stood beside her locker, trying to appear as if she wasn’t listening. I could see her watching me from the corner of her eyes. That caught my attention. The ache that had taken up residence in my chest these days squeezed, reminding me why it was there. Would this feeling ever go away? How long would seeing her hurt so bad?” “Oh, and Ashton, of course.” Kayla’s chipper tone finally said the one word I couldn’t drown out. “What about Ashton?” I asked, tearing my gaze away from her to stare down at Kayla. “She’s still available. No one has picked her, except Sawyer, of course. I don’t think anyone will. No one wants her because they know they won’t be getting any special treatment from her. All the special treatment she’ll be dishing out will be for Sawyer.” “I want her.” “You do? Really?” “Yes.” “But you know Noel has a thing for you, and I can promise she’ll meet all your needs--” Kayla started saying. “I want Ashton,” I repeated and glared down at her again before turning and heading outside to the field house. Asking for Ashton might be opening myself up to more pain, but the thought of her doing things for Sawyer was enough to drive me crazy. The thought of her having to bake cookies, decorate a locker, and make cards for another guy infuriated me. Besides, I wasn’t doing so great in chemistry. I needed some tutoring. The one-on-one kind where boyfriends weren’t allowed.

My phone dinged, and I glanced at the text message. Beau: Ash, I’m sorry. Please tell me where ur at. I clicked ignore and kept heading toward the football field. Right before I reached the gate entrance, headlights illuminated the darkness behind me. I didn’t stop walking. If it was Beau, and I was pretty sure it was, I needed to get away from him. I wanted to cry, and I couldn’t cry with him around to watch. His truck door slammed, and I heard his feet running on the gravel. I’d never be able to outrun him, but I could try. “Ash, I’m sorry.” His arms came around me before I could break into a run. “Beau, let me go. I want to be alone. I’ll call Sawyer, and he can pick me up later and take me home.” “No,” he replied. “That wasn’t a yes or no question. It was a demand. Now leave.” “Ash, you’ve got to listen to me. I didn’t mean anything I said. I was just trying to see the fire behind your eyes. I’ve missed it, and I selfishly lashed out knowing you’d get angry. I was wrong, and I’m so, so sorry. Please.” He buried his head in the crook of my neck and took a deep breath. If I had any intention of staying mad at him, it flew right out the window when he did something so vulnerable as nuzzling my neck. “So you don’t consider this a babysitting job in which Sawyer ‘owes you one’?” I asked in a much softer tone than I’d been using. “God no, you know that,” he replied, still nuzzling my neck. He threaded his fingers through mine. “And asking for me as your spirit girl wasn’t some great service you did for him? Because I can refuse to do it, and you can ask for another girl.” He stilled, then made a trail of kisses up my neck to my ear. “The thought of you doing things for Sawyer on game day is hard enough. I couldn’t imagine you making cookies for some other guy and decorating his locker and kissing his cheek at the pep rally. The only spirit girl I’ll ever want is you.

I want to go on a sleigh ride, build a snowman, decorate the tree, drink hot cocoa, and put our socks out for you to fill. I want to go into town and look at the windows. I want to build a fire and roast marshmallows. I want to bake cookies, go ice skating,

Cake Pops A cake and frosting confection dipped in candy coating and served on a stick. 1 cake (9 x 13) or 18 cupcakes (out of liners) 2 cups buttercream or cream cheese frosting 2 packages of candy melts 30 lollipop sticks (large thick ones) 1 large foam block In a large bowl, crumble up the cake into very small pieces. Using a rubber spatula, stir in the frosting until it is well mixed; it should be the consistency of truffles. Roll the cake frosting mixture into walnut-sized balls and place on a cookie sheet coated with wax paper. Once all the cake has been rolled, put it in the fridge to harden a bit. Melt the candy in a double boiler or a microwave according to the manufacturer’s instructions. Take the cake balls out of the fridge and dip the end of a lollipop stick into the melted candy. Slide a cake ball about half an inch down onto the candy-tipped stick. Now dip the whole cake ball into the melted candy, tapping it very gently on the side of the bowl to get rid of the excess. Stand the cake pop up by pushing the non-cake end into the foam block. If you’re decorating with sprinkles, sugars, or coconut, now is the time to do it, as the candy will harden fairly quickly. Repeat until you’re out of cake balls and melted candy.