Battered but not beaten

I made cookies today for the first time since I moved out of the states. My neighbour Marshall meets with one group of retired men on Mondays and another group, who call themselves the Caledonian Smoothies, on Tuesdays. One of his buddies is a keen gardener and he stopped by the other day to use his chainsaw to extract two large dead limbs from our Chilean fire tree, as arranged by Marshall. I was on a deadline so I didn’t invite him in for tea, as you do here. So I made cookies today and Marshall took them to the Monday night meeting, where they drink whiskey and talk about whatever is on their minds. I hope I’m as social and as popular when I’m 80 as Marshall is.

I simply cannot make cookies without eating an unhealthy amount of batter, plus the cookies that crumble when you take them off the cookie sheet, and then the finished item you have to check to see if it’s done. I felt ill all night. Hopefully this episode of gluttony will get me more serious about reducing sweets, given yesterday’s glum report.
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