Watch out!  Here come the Cookie Swaps!  Every year I get bombarded ticked off about invited to a handful of well meaning friends’ houses for the annual “go bake 6 dozen of some kind of cookie and try to out do everyone else” cookie exchange.  And every year I wait until the last minute to start the baking.  I think I’m the reason they started putting Toll House dough in a tub.  Seriously.  It is inevitable that the night before I’ll be at the Kroger buying whatever I can find to make up the 6-12 dozen required for the next day.  Then I whip the troops into a frenzy and assembly line it with the girls until each last cookie is bagged and tied with curly cue ribbon like Martha herself popped over with a staff of twenty.  For the week.  Booyah.

It’s not that I fail at cooking or baking.  I fail at organizing my time.  And so I don’t hold a cookie exchange.  I’m sure if I did, my friends would all talk about me and complain that THEY had to bake ALL those cookies Martha style.  So I let the overachievers have at it.  Let them clean for a week, send the invites, prepare the baskets and trays to sort.  I’d rather do the talking than be talked about.  So I’m a procrastinator.  If that’s what my cookie crime is then so be it.  Don’t get me wrong.  I love to bake cookies.  On my own terms, in bulk, when I feel like it and for my family.  I’m even thinking this is the year to give cookies to everyone and bag the exchanges all together.  You know, a dozen cookies in those cute little tins with Santa and Rudolph in 3D.  Who wouldn’t want that gift?  I think the SIL’s and BFF’s are going to love them.  That way people I don’t know don’t take my cookies home and snark, “oh, she doesn’t use walnuts?”  That way I can do it right, not do it insane.

Is there a lesson or a happy medium to reach?  I can show up at the cookie exchanges cookie free with the look of shame.  There is always the excuse that the kids were sick.  Someone usually has something and who wants cookies made in a germy household.  I can not show up at all and say I’m sick myself.  Very scrooge-like.  Not a good idea.  Or I can stick with the plan, carry on my whirlwind cookie existence and do my best to meet the deadlines the cookie maven set for me each party.  Booyah.  Again.  Bring on the cookie buckets!

Short Pump Preppy