These cookies should carry a warning from the distributor-‘Buy at your own risk’ or ‘Caution: We are not responsible for any unforeseen consequences resulting from the purchase of this product’ or ‘Has been known to cause the Don Quixote syndrome- Tilting at Windmills’.
I have not purchased these cookies in over 5 years, due to events that occurred during the purchase of Windmill Cookies at my local grocery store, until…last week. I was looking for a ‘plain cookie’- I had seen some peaches in the produce department; I recalled eating peaches with windmill cookies when I was a child. As I reached for some shortbread cookies, I saw the Windmill Cookies…my left eyebrow twitched- this should have been my warning sign- but I was distracted by a little girl who had her doll in a buggy near me-
She was softly singing…‘Twankle, twankle little star…’
A slight twinge of electricity shot up my right ankle as I put the offending cookies into my buggy- you know, you’re supposed to listen to the whispers in your life… I headed to the checkout- I saw an abandoned buggy with two cases of canned cat food, I paused, no one claimed it- I edged ahead of the buggy- ignoring the twitching left eyebrow and the annoying electrical current running up and down my leg. Confidently I moved into the lane. I began the unloading process, when I heard a gruff voice say-
‘You went ahead of me!’
A man in a crimson shirt emblazoned with ‘Alabama’ glared at me.
‘Oh sir, I’m so sorry, you’ve only got a few things come on ahead of me’.
‘No, go on..’
‘Oh no, you were here first and besides we’re on the same team’…
He didn’t argue, muscled himself ahead of me and I thanked him. I continued to unload my buggy, when I looked up- his hairy fist was right in front of my nose!
‘I bet you’ve never seen one of these’ .
A whole lot of twitching was going on by now…‘Well, no-sir, I haven’t.’ It was a 1961 National Championship ring for the University of Alabama!
‘I was the captain of that team.’
Well, I liked to have died right on the spot. He reached in his back pocket and pulled out his billfold- not to pay the patient checker- but to show me his picture with Bear Bryant! Lord have mercy!
‘Well, now isn’t that something’…the checker looked like she was holding me personally responsible for holding up the line! I tried, I truly did- to wind up the conversation- but he went on and on and on, play by play… finally, the checker cleared her throat real loud. I thought he might pull a fist on her, but he didn’t – just paid her like a lamb, and kept talking…the checker turned on the conveyor system for my groceries. I stepped up my game-‘Sir, it is truly an honor to meet you’– pumping his hairy hand up and down-
‘Now, let me take your picture and a picture of that ring!’ He complied- the checker was snickering by now… I thanked the Captain of the 1961 National Championship for his ‘service to our school’– though I felt as if I was the veteran here…
Twitching and tingling -I spied the offender- under my breath, I said, ‘it’s happened again, those Windmill Cookies!’
The checker said: ‘What’d you say darlin’?’
‘Oh it’s nothing really…it’s just the last time I bought those Windmill Cookies…’
I told the story. The checker didn’t thank me for ‘my service to our school’ – oh no, she thanked me for making her laugh! And I would like to make it perfectly clear that I did not blame that precious little girl singing ‘Twankle, twankle little star…’
Now it’s your turn to say- What happened the last time you bought those Windmill Cookies? Well..I found the record of it and I will report it to you just as it was written- Sept. 19, 2011 –
I went to the same grocery store, I bought some plain cookies- I usually get graham crackers or vanilla wafers- but this time I bought those Windmill cookies. I was checking out, had bought nothing out of the ordinary; beeps and whistles began to go off from the terminal. The bag boy asked the checker what she had done wrong- ‘I don’t know- it’s telling me to ask for her ID’.
Still beep beep beeping…Checker is calling the manager…checker is nose to terminal taking a closer look…beep beeping…so, I might add- are the other shoppers- all of them zeroed in to the screaming beeping Aisle 2!
I cleared my throat and said ‘Ma’am, there is not an ounce of alcohol in this pile of groceries!’
‘I know ma’am, but when I scan these cookies- it’s telling me to check your ID’. She crossed her arms. Beep beep beep..
‘Really?’ I squeaked- my left eyebrow twitched and a zing of electricity went up my right ankle. I nervously looked around for a hidden camera. In the meantime, the bag boy- turned comedian- pulled the pack of Windmill Cookies close to his face-
‘Wow these must be some strong cookies! I wonder if there’s a warning on the label’.
Beep- beep-beep! With red cheeks I started in…inappropriate laughter for the absurd situation I was in- ‘It probably says- don’t operate heavy machinery while consuming these cookies’.
Beeping – laughing- beeping, more laughing…The checker joined in...’I guess you can only have two of those cookies per day’…
Bag Boy : ‘Friends don’t let friends eat Windmill Cookies and drive!’
I said: ‘If they stop you, they’re going to test to see if you have Windmill Cookie Breath’.
Laughs all around, among the three of us- the rest of the store was sick of all the noise and beeping! I mean -the situation could not- apparently, be improved- just go with it, right? The manager hustled over- the offending Windmill Cookies were rung up again- more beeps, more insisting on getting the ID- I assured the manager I was happy to give her my ID – being of a certain age and all…however, I assured her that there was no alcohol of any kind in my load of groceries! Now, why did I do that? At this point there was no saving of my reputation! The manager ignored me, to the checker she said-
‘What did you do? Hit the beer and wine key when you scanned these cookies? Why would you do that?’ She hit a key- the beeping finally stopped.
Dead silence, the offending cookies were bagged. I might add- the woman behind me never cracked a smile during my entire ordeal. After supper that night- I slung those Windmill Cookies on the table and said,
‘Eat these at your own risk!’.
*Tilting at Windmills: Attacking imaginary enemies; confrontations where adversaries are incorrectly perceived; vain efforts against adversaries real or imagined.
‘When life itself seems lunatic, who knows where madness lies?’ Don Quixote
‘Wit and humor do not reside in slow minds’. Don Quixote
‘I do not deny what happened…is a thing worth laughing at.’ Don Quixote
Well, I hope y’all laughed your sides off! We sure got a laugh out of it! And what about that crazy Don Quixote, he might have been buying Windmill Cookies! Y’all be careful and have a great weekend!
Love y’all, Camellia