"Out With The Old, And In Comes The New"

I was going to help a friend make cookies last night, but we were both incredibly tired (if you spoke to me post-11, I apologize; chances are the conversation was tortuous and confusing, but fatigue does that to me), so we decided against it. Those plans left me with a craving for homemade cookies today, so (after my luxurious afternoon nap... mmmm) I got out my favorite chocolate chip recipe and got to work. It's not incredibly difficult, but still, I put effort into the project, and I haven't really baked in a while. I was rather proud of the result, and admired it by devouring two.

Then The Parents arrived home from their adventures up in Golf-Land, and asked me to open a package that had arrived today from who knows where. I did, and discovered a tin full of chocolate chip cookies. What the heck? A. We do not need that many cookies in one household. B. My cookies had better be eaten first, or I will be Very Upset.

All that, of course, became a minor distraction when Mom started telling the story of how my father is a brutal murderer. And I'm not even joking on this one, he was going to take a shovel to a baby bird that he had de-nested in the process of cleaning out my grandmother's forsythia. If there's one thing I cannot handle, it is animals, especially baby animals, being killed. I know some of you like to hit birds with your car and get them lodged behind the front license plate, but I am just not that kind of person. Roadkill doesn't sicken me, it saddens me. I guess maybe I anthropomorphize too much.

And I wasn't trying to show off by using a big word just then; I use it a lot, so you've probably heard it if you talk to me with any kind of regularity. I just wanted to make that clear.