Windmill Cookies…

imageThese 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!image

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, Camelliaimage

The Saga of the Easter Dog…

image  Because my birthday is close to Easter, when I was a little girl, my mother was going to make me a birthday cake; she bought a 2 piece metal cake pan molded like a sheep. imageI was a scared-y cat with a weak stomach, so I wasn’t sure if I could actually eat a sheep shaped cake. My older sister was a born prophet- she said ‘that cake’s gonna look like a dog’.  Baking commenced, the batter began to rise with the sheep’s ears getting singed in the cake tins. I was in a state! When the cakes came out of the oven, my sister said again …’that cake’s gonna look like a dog’… Mother told us to stop worrying- by the time the white icing was swirled on the sheep cake, and shredded dyed green coconut grass was put around the cake it would look just like an Easter Lamb. I looked at the burnt ears and watched as she trimmed its ears- I cringed looking at it! I thought it hurt the sheep~ surely that sheep could feel it’s ears being trimmed. It didn’t help that my sister, the miniature prophetess kept sayin’ the cake looked like a dog! The sheep cake fell over more than once… and just when Mother got the white icing ready to swirl on… the head fell off of the sheep/dog cake! Cryin’ commenced, wailin’really… ‘Y’all get outside and play while I work on this cake!’ We went outside ~ my sister, the pint sized prophet with the shiny brown hair that curled in all the right places, was running and playing while I, the cowlicked black haired, green eyed scaredy cat was sniffing and trying to get hold of myself. Mother finally let us come back inside… and guess what? the sheep cake did not look like a dog! It looked like a big ol’ white fluffy Easter Egg with green coconut and jelly beans surrounding it! How was I ever going to eat a headless sheep disguised as a Prehistoric Chicken Egg! And where were the candles going to be? Dried out, days later -the cake was dumped in trash….the cake pan went in the cabinets and was never used again. Decades later, all grown up~ I was collecting, of all things ~ sheep! I asked Mother if she still had the Sheep Mold…and I am not lyin’, Mother had given that sheep mold to a lady whose husband’s nickname was Jellybean! They had a yard sale at Jellybean’s house, the cake pan sold ~ who knows where it went? Mother felt bad about it…she found another one for me. I never made a sheep shaped cake! The trauma of the ‘sheep/dog/egg’ put a stop to that~ it was put on display with the other sheep at Christmas and Easter …until this year. Ok, y’all know where this is goin’ don’t you? With fear and trepidation, the project was undertaken to see if a sheep cake could actually be baked… imageFour days…I worked on this cake! A dense cake must be the answer~ a brownie mix was stirred up; sure enough the ears  began to burn, I pulled cake out of the oven, carefully scooped some mix from the stomach of the sheep to the ears. Oh gag and oh lord, finally that cake was baked…slightly burned ears but hey, that could be trimmed off…umhmm. I chilled the cakes. I made a thick chocolate filling. I decided no fluffy white icing for sheep wool. I would not use store bought ‘eyes’ either, who wants a sheep with a ‘surprised look’, right? The day before Easter, I melted semi-sweet chocolate. I grated milk chocolate to look like ‘wool’. After I poured the chocolate and set it up as a trial run, I thought ~ this thing looks just like a dog ! Well let me tell you right now sister, I was not going to dye any coconut to surround it! I had already tried and failed to make sugared violets! Oops I’m tellin’ on myself! I was nauseated from eating nearly a whole bag of jelly beans to calm my nerves! My sister~ who rarely uses her gift of prophecy now -told me it would be ‘cute’~ she seems to have switched to the gift of selective lying. I knew different but I kept going … a crack formed on the back of the neck! Oh no, please don’t let that dog head fall off! In the refrigerator the cake went…good, the cake firmed up! more chocolate was poured, more chillin’ ~ I was sort of horrified that there was now a good $20 worth of chocolate in a cake that wouldn’t be fit to eat! Out of the mold, the cake looked just like a Dog! the shaved chocolate was sprinkled around…I was sure it would fall over if anybody looked at it crooked! I surrounded it with Cadbury Chocolate mini-eggs…took a ‘beauty shot’ or 20 maybe…over and over the thought…this thing looks like a dog! She was right! I texted her a photo and told her it looked like a dog and further that cake was so hard it would take a chainsaw to cut it! We got so tickled!  For some reason in the midst of laughing I decided to just accept the idea of an Easter Dog! The moral of this story is –

Bakers,do not try this at home, just bake a batch of brownies. Wait for those prophecies, sometimes it takes years before they’re fulfilled. Embrace the goof-ups in life. They can turn into the funniest moments of your life!

Turns out when we got up the nerve to cut the Easter Dog ~ guess what? the tail section isn’t that bad…let’s just hope that dog head is dried out before we get to it…wait a minute, who’s rev-vin’ up a chainsaw in the kitchen?

Live, love and laugh y’all…life’s short! Camellia