Cookies=1 Me=0

My annual (well mostly annual) Christmas tradition has been to make cookies. Usually I make a few different kinds, but this year, between being sick, getting presents bought and wrapped, making out cards, and life, I decided to just make peanut butter blossoms. My mom gave me her amazing recipe, and any one I give them to asks for them the next year.

I bought all the ingredients this past weekend, but unfortunately did not have the time to make them. No big deal; I decided that tonight would be Cookie Night. I was so ready for the apartment to smell of delicious cookies, and I was ready for that first bite of that first amazing cookie...you can tell what happened already, can't you?

The cookies were a disaster. I mean a complete disaster. I suffered through the first cookie, looked at Chris as he tried one, and we both agreed that they sucked. I later tried another, thinking that maybe the first ones didn't turn out, but later ones did. Nope. I spit that one out. This is the first time I've thrown out an entire batch of cookies minus two.

Unbelievable. My Christmas dreams were shattered. For those of you who really truly know me, my reaction to this disaster is no surprise: I broke down into tears. I sobbed over that horrible batch of cookies. I take great pride in those (almost) annual cookies, and this year, I failed. It wasn't just the wretched taste that made me cry, it was the fact that this was a holiday tradition, my holiday tradition. I cried because I still haven't been able to make my apartment feel like home, and without my other holiday traditions (watching The Muppet Christmas Carol, listening to my holiday cds - which have disappeared, wrapping presents while listening to those lost cds), I feel lost. Those traditions are home to me, and I thought if I could do those in the apartment, it would feel more like home.

But alas, it still does not. I think that all I need is time, and I think that Chris and I need to create our own traditions. We decided that making shit cookies should NOT be one of them. There were two successes out of this experience: (1) I figured out how big the cookies need to be and (2) I remembered one of the reasons I am with Chris. He didn't freak out at all when I started crying. Instead, he held me and tried to convince me that I wasn't crazy and that it was a completely understandable reaction. He knows how I've been feeling, and he made me laugh with his completely inappropriate comments. Classic Chris.

So, after much convincing, I will try another batch tomorrow night with fresh vanilla. Never quit trying, right? Happy holidays everyone.