I need to get something off my chest.
It’s about holidays and cookies. All holidays.
I don’t do Christmas or Easter or July 4th or any other holiday that sparks the imagination of my fellow cookie artists. I choke when faced with this daunting task. And, a collection of holiday cookies? Like a/an (animal of your choice) caught in headlights, I am paralyzed. My mind just doesn’t work that way. How can it, when people like Callye and Bridget and Marian, (just a few of the MANY talented designers out there) do such a magnificent job? Every. Single. Holiday.
I hide from my fabulous marketing team when they call/text/DM/email 3 or 4 months in advance of any and all observances that garner media coverage while selling products. I’m MIA despite having 3 different devices at my fingertips at all times. ”Too busy with orders”, I cry, after their futile attempts to contact me practically fail. Sometimes, I just ignore them, because I’m wishing and hoping and praying that whatever holiday is coming up just whizzes by without me or my cookies.
That is, until a recent excursion to a suburban big box store opened me to my truth. Well, not so much the store, but the parking lot. When I go to do my large quantity sundries shopping, I employ a particular parking strategy. I align my station wagon right next to the canopied ’return cart here’ area. That way, after I unload the flatbed piled high with toilet paper, paper towels, dish detergent and cotton swabs into the car, returning this unwieldy beast is simple. Not to mention that this ‘return cart area’ is so far from the actual store, no one in their right mind parks there.
Except for the last time I went shopping, and was surprised when I noticed the non-descript beige 4 door family car that sat quietly in the parking space adjacent to mine. After deftly maneuvering my haul next to the rear of my car, my eyes caught a glimpse of what was going on in that car next to mine. Two, how shall I say, close-to-middle-age adults were locked in each others’ arms, hungrily devouring each other with their ardent kisses; a sight rarely seen in a Jersey City Shoprite/BJ’s parking lot at noon in the middle of the work week.
Now, I’m as romantic as the next person, but I’m also a proud pragmatist with a cynical streak. WHO MAKES OUT IN A SHOPPING CENTER PARKING LOT AT NOON IN THE MIDDLE OF THE WEEK?
Come to your own conclusions. Think about it. You know I’m right. Please, I’m not judging, mind you. It’s none of my business despite the fact that I have to try to pack up the station wagon as quickly as possible without letting my eyes wander over to the wanton lust-fest occurring a few feet away from me.
So, while I loaded up the Charmin, the multi-packs of Sensodyne toothpaste and the box of Cascade that lasts for at least a year, I thought to myself, “Get a room.”
At that exact moment I had my breakthrough.
My cookies need to reflect my cock-eyed perspective of the world around me.
With my new philosophy firmly in place, I invite you to celebrate inappropriate public displays of affection this Valentine’s Day with my ‘Get A Room’ collection.
Of course I’ll still continue with my usual birthday cakes and favor cookies…heck, I’ve built a business around them, and I love them dearly. But this new dimension is purely for my entertainment.
Yours, too, I hope.