extinction

Today found me living a different life, in some respects, as my friend Beth and I are staying with and caring for our friend's three two year olds. It's life to the full and utter exhaustion in simultaneous spaces. I wouldn't trade it for the world (but I also know I get to sleep in my own bed tomorrow night).

Our ambitions included incorporating some holiday baking/cooking in the afternoon with another friend, following the kids' naps. [Likely,

Karen

will post about this as well.] In fact, we'd communicated and in some respects coordinated the various goodies we planned to make. The primary thing that Karen wanted to make was sugar cookies with fun shapes to frost and decorate. At a point already past turning back (doesn't that sound dramatic for Christmas cookies?), Karen realized she did not remember cookie cutters. And so we searched this house for a few moments before calling K to ask if she had them hidden somewhere. Her definitive, but negative response prompted a different tactic. Thankfully, Karen's sister also lives in this neighborhood. But a call to her house did not find her home. No worries, I thought. I offered to walk and ask the neighbors.

And here was my surprise: of the neighbors I found home, NONE, (as in zilch, zero, nada, nobody) had cookie cutters. Some offered baking powder, sugar, flour (I'm pretty sure only to feel useful, and in some slim way helpful, not thinking those ingredients could make the difference...) but no one had the fun and festive, fond and familiar metal shapes. (Perhaps an overindulgence of alliteration, I realize.)

So, what's to become of us? Are cookie cutters a thing of the past? Will the moments of creative decorating (at least before the growning realization that doubling the recipe meant way too many cookies to frost) disappear from our Christmas traditions? Or was this simply the wrong neighborhood, the wrong time and place, or...??

Pix credit: Group shot: Karen; camping, 0906, Karen and Zane: Beth; camping, 0806