How we prepare for Christmas in our house…

Me: How are we going to get through December without getting fat?

The Cheerleader I Live With: Don’t go out?

Me: Or maybe don’t let me bake?

TCILW: Fuck! You’re going to bake, aren’t you? If we don’t go out, you’ll just bake.

Me: Yeah, probably

TCILW: Sonofabitch. Well I hope that somebody will call and give you a job, just to keep you away from the damn kitchen

Me: I’d be ok with that.

TCILW: OR… you could bake, and we could hold weekly bake sales!

Me: What? Who would we sell it to?

TCILW: …people.

Me: You haven’t really thought this through, have you?

TCILW: No, because my brain is full with thoughts of your goddamn baking!

Me: Yay for cookies!

TCILW: NO!

Me: I need to make a shopping list! Butter, condensed milk, icing sugar, chocolate…

TCILW: NO!

Me: Coconut, butter, macadamias, brown sugar, Crisco, caramels…

TCILW: I hate Christmas.

Me: More butter, whole oats, vanilla beans, cream cheese, pasty flour…

 

I freaking love baking – drunk AND sober! (I know, I’m a woman of many talents). I spend hours going through cookbooks and websites, just snatching recipes here and there and then dumping piles of fudge, shortbread, and Rolo-filled snickerdoodles on the unsuspecting Cheerleader I Live With. I try to not be so blatant about it, and I try to hide them, but when he goes to the freezer to grab another bag of Brussels sprouts *WHAM!* he’s faced with 15 Tupperware containers full of candy, cookies, and random assortments of loaf-type snacks. Then he gets mad. The worst part is that the freezer is right outside his office door. Poor bastard.

That’s one of the biggest reasons why I like Christmas. It’s the one time of the year that I can actually get away with baking a gazbillion* different things without anyone thinking that I’m an addict, or a hoarder.

So, if you know anyone who could offer me a job, and if you care anything at all about The Cheerleader I Live With, please pass on my resume. Otherwise, come January, I’ll be writing about The Walrus That Was The Cheerleader I Live With.

xo

*Gazbillion may or may not be a real number

 

 

 

 

Advertisements