The humans are preparing for their annual board game gathering. This involves much sorting of games, coordinating of arrivals and schedules, and laying-in of provisions.
The female isn’t much of a gamer (sadly, she hasn’t the intellectual wherewithal to negotiate games of strategy, though she has been known to perk up when the party games come out.) No, her contribution is usually in the form of baked goods.
Some of you may recall that my very first encounter with these humans involved some of her cookies. She’s hopeless at many things, but her cookies are usually edible, and very frequently delicious. I’m happy to report, therefore, that she is making some for the weekend.
She made some of the dough last night. I couldn’t help myself–I made sure she was distracted by a phone call right in the middle of measuring the flour, so there’s some question as to whether the dough will… behave. It is supposed to chill overnight or sit for three hours in the freezer. I distracted her a second time, so it spent all night in the freezer. This is going to be interesting.
Time to go get started.
Volstagg’s straining waistcoat! It appears she was up early this morning. There is already a whole flock of gingerbread cooling on the table.
This is splendid! I was afraid I’d be pressed into service to roll the little dough balls. Bo-ring! But by my count, there are some thirteen dozen.
Thirteen dozen! All beautiful and soft and perfect and surprisingly uniform.
Oh, and these hard, lopsided, overdone ones.
We don’t talk about these.