I’m making a batch of angry cookies. They’re in the oven right now, and frankly it pisses me off.
Oh, they’re chocolatey and gooey, and I’m sure they’re delicious. But they’re making me really mad.
They’re Father’s Day cookies, for my husband’s father. It was Hubby’s idea. It seemed like a nice idea at the time. So, I began assembling the ingredients. I took out the eggs and slammed the refrigerator. I got down the flour and slammed the cupboard door. The poor eggs took quite a beating and I grumbled as I carefully picked eggshells out of the dough. I yanked open the chocolate chips and burst into tears.
It was awhile before I regained my composure. But it’s not like you can just make the cookies and be done with it. No. Every nine minutes, the timer goes off, and there are the offending baked goods all over again. Sneering at me.
Reminding me that it’s almost Father’s Day, and I don’t have a father anymore. But my husband does. My kids do. It’s just me.
Father’s Day has to go on. And I’m not sure I can handle it. Don’t get me wrong, I love my father-in-law. He’s a good guy, certainly worthy of my “famous chocolate chip cookies”. (That’s what he calls them. I’ll let you in on the secret…I use the Tollhouse recipe right off the chips! But he says they’re the best he’s ever had.) But he’s not my dad. I should be making cookies for MY dad, and I can’t and it’s just not fair.
There they go again. Every nine minutes just like clockwork.
I think I’m just going to sit here and cry a little while longer. At least there’s plenty of cookie dough handy!
Here’s a cookie for you, Daddy. I sure miss you.