Cookies
Last year, I did a post about socks. When I told a friend that I was doing a post on cookies, he asked if I was scraping the bottom of the barrel for material. I replied that I most certainly was not, that it was just a springboard for a more interesting story. I'm not sure if he believed me, so I'll send him a copy and see what he thinks! For the record, I am pretty impartial to food. Naturally I value quality, but often quantity takes precedence over quality, especially when the quantity in question equals zero. As in, don't try to feed me cookies wherever I go if you read this post thoroughly.
Cookies...a common saying says that the way to a guy's heart is through his stomach. I don't think it's just guys. Have you ever noticed how people bond over food? Even the Bible calls us to share meals together. Alas, I digress.
Sometime in late 2006, being a college kid, I missed my father's chocolate chip cookies. (Yes, usually my dad makes the cookies in my parents' house. No reason why...just is) Being a slightly ambitious sort, I decided to make my own. While they turned out acceptable, the girl who would later become my girlfriend (would that make her my proto-girlfriend?) was underwhelmed. She decided that I needed to know what “good cookies” were. After a trial, it was clearly decided that she was a much better baker. In fact, the day we officially started going out, she brought cookies and milk for our entire class, just because she's cool like that. I even got a box of homemade cookies for Christmas, which a) I hoarded because they were for me, after all, and b) were really good because I knew they were made with care. I'm not sure how many cookies were in that box, but it was enough to get me by for two consecutive week-long conferences and the rest of Christmas break that I spent apart from her.
Now that you're set up, we'll fast-forward a few months. I ate Andie's good cookies frequently over the time we were together, then it came to an end and our lives sharply separated. Over the summer, I didn't go home very often, so I kinda forgot about the goodness that is home cooked food.
I took the Fundamentals of Engineering exam a few weeks ago. It was quite a challenge – two 4-hour test blocks covering basically everything that I've learned since I came to Mines. To my surprise, I found a box at my door the week before. My kind mother had sent me a “care package” of food to promote good studying. Sadly, it did little for my studying, and I studied right about an hour. I'm confident that I did well, though, so whatever. The part of the box I enjoyed the most, though, was the cookies in the bottom. Food is good, fruit is good, but I can't buy home-baked stuff.
About 3 weeks ago, in my church small group, we were discussing forgiveness and reconciliation. I wasn't sure what exactly that meant in the context of an ended relationship, and was discussing that afterwards with my small group leader. I posited that forgiving her while definitely not re-pursuing her ('cause we've both moved on with our lives) meant being not just civil but polite to her like I would to other people that are just barely in my life. My small group leader agreed more or less, saying that “I sure wouldn't like bake her a big bowl of cookies or anything.” I found that amusing, seeing as he had never met her and totally didn't know about the cookie “discussion”. On my way out the door, I said goodbye, and he responded with “Remember, no cookies.” Sure, I can do that. She was always the baker of our couple anyway. :-)
Just about a week later, I was over at a (young lady) friend's house hanging out. My friend and her boyfriend made cookies, chocolate chip by happy happenstance. I like cookies. On my way out the door, her roommate stops me with “Hey, these are for you”, handing me a handful of cookies. Yay cookies. I mumbled something about “Aw, that's nice! You shouldn't have.” and made my way to the car.
But wait, it gets better. Remember, I'm collecting interactions about cookies. An ordinary object/food group, and yet it provides a form of tracer through my life. I live in a house with several other young men. Two young ladies have made their hobby taking care of whoever lives in the Den – making sure we don't poison ourselves with bad cooking, don't set the house on fire, etc. Once in a while, when they're feeling generous, they bring us food. Once again, because I like to enjoy my own food, I was hoarding my cookies in my room. K_ (sorry...I'm a little paranoid) was standing in my doorway when I said something to someone in my room about cookies. She became (mock) angry, complaining that “I feel rejected. How dare you eat someone else's cookies?! See if I ever bring you food again!” Somehow, I was amused. Cookies. Who'd have thought that someone could feel rejected because of cookies?
That's all. The next one should be more life-applicable. Maybe.
Cookies...a common saying says that the way to a guy's heart is through his stomach. I don't think it's just guys. Have you ever noticed how people bond over food? Even the Bible calls us to share meals together. Alas, I digress.
Sometime in late 2006, being a college kid, I missed my father's chocolate chip cookies. (Yes, usually my dad makes the cookies in my parents' house. No reason why...just is) Being a slightly ambitious sort, I decided to make my own. While they turned out acceptable, the girl who would later become my girlfriend (would that make her my proto-girlfriend?) was underwhelmed. She decided that I needed to know what “good cookies” were. After a trial, it was clearly decided that she was a much better baker. In fact, the day we officially started going out, she brought cookies and milk for our entire class, just because she's cool like that. I even got a box of homemade cookies for Christmas, which a) I hoarded because they were for me, after all, and b) were really good because I knew they were made with care. I'm not sure how many cookies were in that box, but it was enough to get me by for two consecutive week-long conferences and the rest of Christmas break that I spent apart from her.
Now that you're set up, we'll fast-forward a few months. I ate Andie's good cookies frequently over the time we were together, then it came to an end and our lives sharply separated. Over the summer, I didn't go home very often, so I kinda forgot about the goodness that is home cooked food.
I took the Fundamentals of Engineering exam a few weeks ago. It was quite a challenge – two 4-hour test blocks covering basically everything that I've learned since I came to Mines. To my surprise, I found a box at my door the week before. My kind mother had sent me a “care package” of food to promote good studying. Sadly, it did little for my studying, and I studied right about an hour. I'm confident that I did well, though, so whatever. The part of the box I enjoyed the most, though, was the cookies in the bottom. Food is good, fruit is good, but I can't buy home-baked stuff.
About 3 weeks ago, in my church small group, we were discussing forgiveness and reconciliation. I wasn't sure what exactly that meant in the context of an ended relationship, and was discussing that afterwards with my small group leader. I posited that forgiving her while definitely not re-pursuing her ('cause we've both moved on with our lives) meant being not just civil but polite to her like I would to other people that are just barely in my life. My small group leader agreed more or less, saying that “I sure wouldn't like bake her a big bowl of cookies or anything.” I found that amusing, seeing as he had never met her and totally didn't know about the cookie “discussion”. On my way out the door, I said goodbye, and he responded with “Remember, no cookies.” Sure, I can do that. She was always the baker of our couple anyway. :-)
Just about a week later, I was over at a (young lady) friend's house hanging out. My friend and her boyfriend made cookies, chocolate chip by happy happenstance. I like cookies. On my way out the door, her roommate stops me with “Hey, these are for you”, handing me a handful of cookies. Yay cookies. I mumbled something about “Aw, that's nice! You shouldn't have.” and made my way to the car.
But wait, it gets better. Remember, I'm collecting interactions about cookies. An ordinary object/food group, and yet it provides a form of tracer through my life. I live in a house with several other young men. Two young ladies have made their hobby taking care of whoever lives in the Den – making sure we don't poison ourselves with bad cooking, don't set the house on fire, etc. Once in a while, when they're feeling generous, they bring us food. Once again, because I like to enjoy my own food, I was hoarding my cookies in my room. K_ (sorry...I'm a little paranoid) was standing in my doorway when I said something to someone in my room about cookies. She became (mock) angry, complaining that “I feel rejected. How dare you eat someone else's cookies?! See if I ever bring you food again!” Somehow, I was amused. Cookies. Who'd have thought that someone could feel rejected because of cookies?
That's all. The next one should be more life-applicable. Maybe.
posted by The student of life at 7:33 PM
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