Cookies Are Made With Butter and Love

Just realized that this is my 100th post!

There are always memories that play a part in why a cookie recipe becomes a family tradition - a standard that is baked Christmas after Christmas in a mother's kitchen.

When I was a little girl, my dad would drive quite a ways in greater Chicagoland to stock up on goodies from an old bakery in Oak Park.  My mom did not bake and maintained that if God had intended her to bake, he would not have invented Sara Lee.  Many times Dad would take me along on these outings.  This delicious place was called Smithfield Bakery, and my mouth still waters when I remember the cakes and donuts and cream cheese sweet rolls and bear claws and eclairs.  And, of course, the cookies!  They were huge - about the size of the palm of my father's hand.


                          "Now that's a cookie!" he would say.

Smithfield's baked many varieties, but the most outstanding were the sugar cookies.  On a winter night, Dad would brew a pot of coffee after dinner and dunk his cookie in the hot mug.  I either had milk or maybe some cocoa.  We would sit together on the couch to watch Rocky and Bullwinkle.  Good god, that man loved Boris and Natasha and even Mr Peabody.

Years later my wedding cake was baked by Smithfield's.  I became a young wife and soon a young mother.  I taught myself to bake and

have always loved it.  For years I tried one sugar cookie recipe after another searching for one that tasted like those from my childhood.  Too crispy, too flat, too sweet.  Finally I tried the recipe I am sharing with you today.  Really, the only singular ingredient is the sour cream.  Oh my stars - what a difference it makes.  When I took my first bite, I knew I had found the holy grail of recipes.

As my boys grew, they chose their own cookie cutter shapes and

dumped way too many red and green sprinkles on as they helped with the decorating.  I love these cookies best topped with just plain white sugar.

  

                               Old-Fashioned Sugar Cookies

4 cups sifted all-purpose flour               1 egg
1 teaspoon baking powder                     1/2 cup sour cream
1/2 teaspoon baking soda                       1 teaspoon vanilla extract
1/2 teaspoon salt
1/2 teaspoon nutmeg                               Topping:
1 cup soft butter or shortening                 1/4 cup sugar
1 1/2 cups sugar

1. Sift flour with baking powder, soda, salt, and nutmeg; set aside.
2. In large bowl use mixer at medium speed, beat butter, sugar, and egg until light and fluffy.  (I never use a mixer; a wooden spoon works just as well, and goodness knows I have enough of those!  Also, I much prefer Buttery Crisco shortening.)
3. At low speed, beat in sour cream and vanilla until smooth.
4. Gradually add flour mixture, beating until well combined.
5. With rubber scraper, form dough into a ball.  Wrap in waxed paper or foil; refrigerate several hours, or overnight.
6. Divide dough into 4 parts.  Refrigerate until ready to roll out.
7. Meanwhile, preheat oven to 375 degrees F.  Lightly grease cookie sheets.
8. On well-floured surface, roll dough, one part at a time, 1/4 inch thick. (Go thicker than that.)
9. With floured, 2 1/2 inch round or scalloped cookie cutter, cut out cookies.  Using spatula, place, 2 inches apart, on cookie sheets.  
10. Sprinkle tops of cookies with sugar.  Reroll trimmings, and cut.
11. Bake 10 to 12 minutes, or until golden.  Remove to wire rack; cool.  (Be sure not to overbake.  I usually go for 9 minutes and let them sit on the tray for another couple minutes.  I just cool  them on the counter top.)

Hope you enjoy these as much as we do.  It's actually a recipe I make occasionally at other times of the year.  At Christmas, though, I always have pretty paper sacks so that all our family and friends can take a selection of cookies home after the festivities.

  


Every year when I have one warm from the oven, I think about my crazy, wonderful dad and wish he was there to help me eat them.


                    Don't forget to leave a few out for Santa.
                                  They are his favorite!


              "Happy Christmas to all and to all a Good Night." 

Links to Cookie Day Participants

abby
Ashly
Bleue 
Cat 
collared mom 
David
DF 
greengirl 
His slut 
JZ 
Katie 
Kelly 
Lilli 
Lindy
Mrs. Fever 
Ms. Constance
nilla
Olivia 
ronnie 
Ryan 
Sassy 

Sam's Answers to Lilli's Meme

When I asked Sam to answer these questions, he just groaned.  The second time I asked Sam to answer these questions, and he rolled his eyes.  After the third time I asked him, he grudgingly complied.  Once you read his first answer, you will understand!

What is something I always say?
   
          "Could you.....Would you.....Can you.....Will you?" 

I would love to lie and tell you that this is an exaggeration, but it    
is probably accurate.  The only thing I say more is "I love you." 


What makes me happy?

              "Me loving you"          OK, this one is dead on!


What makes me sad?

                   "When we are not close"          Exactly.
 
How tall am I?

                               "5 ft 6 inches"       Yep.


 What is my favorite thing to do?

                               "Work in the garden"

                              There are many more.  
    And I am surprised that spanking and sex were not mentioned!


What do I do when you are not around?

                     "Housework, cook, wrap presents lately"
 
 
If I become famous what would it be for?

                        "Writing, I hope"     Love that answer!

 
What makes you proud of me?

   "When you accomplish a difficult goal you have set for yourself"



What is my favorite food?

   "Shrimp and more shrimp"      That's true but is beer a food?
 
 
What is my favorite restaurant?

                 "Anyplace with shrimp - especially unlimited"


                  My record is 43 fried shrimp at one meal!  
               Sam thought that one should be eligible for the 
                            Guinness World Records. 


Where is my favorite place to visit?

                  "Neighborhood Pub"     Yep, and draft IPA.


If I could go anywhere where would it be?

                     "London"     Yes, yes, and yes again.


How do I annoy you?

                 "When you are contrary"      No comment

What's my favorite  film?

      "Thousand Clowns or Silverado"   There are dozens more!


You get a phone call that I'm in trouble. Who will I be with?

                               "Someone from work"       

   I think he is referring to some of our girl happy hours/dinners.



This was fun, and I have loved reading these from other bloggers.   

                                          Thanks, Lilli!  

        Here's one more thing Sam might say and I would agree.

                              
                             Here is something I would say.

Dear Abby

Dear Abby,

I am writing you today for some advice about an incident that happened between my husband and I a while ago.  First, let me explain that my husband, Sam, and I have been in a "this thing we do" relationship for the last 3 years.  You may also be familiar with it as a lifestyle choice called "domestic discipline."  Basically, this is when the couple, by mutual consent, agrees to have the husband act as head of the household (HOH), and he has the final say in decisions for the good of both partners.  The wife's role is to follow and support her husband.  If ttwd is really working, the relationship thrives and both husband and wife experience benefits.  If the husband finds that his wife is not acting in accordance with his expectations, he has the wife's consent to issue consequences that may include spanking.

This one is for Meredith and Jack

Sam and I have been very happy with our choice to make this part of our marriage.  We are not perfect.  As much as I want ttwd as a foundation for our love for each other, I fall from grace more often than I would like.  Sam agreed to ttwd at my request, and he is very happy with the results.  It was not a natural tendency for him, though, and he stumbles occasionally in his leadership role.

Abby, I know you have advised many couples over the years and hope you can offer some wise thoughts on this matter.  What happened between us that night had some humorous aspects and one that very much disturbed me.



Sam and I had an appointment with a lawyer the following day, and he told me to make sure I had the needed documents with me.  Now, I am usually the one who has trouble with short-term memory, so I hesitated and thought before I said, "Nope, you didn't give me anything."

"Yes, I did.  Don't you remember?  I showed them to you the other night, and we talked about them," Sam shot back, voice escalating a bit.



Again, I paused and thought, "Did he give them to me?"  But no, he had not.  Meanwhile he was looking through another file, but they were not there either.
 

"Hon, you did not give them to me," and now I sounded impatient, too.

Sam insisted it was my fault and went off into his office to rustle around.  I rolled my eyes (just to myself.)  I may have the poor memory, but Sam is not a tidy man.  My bet was that he had buried the documents under a pile of other stuff.  Soon he came back into the dining room and dropped the blue folder for the lawyer on the table. 

"See, it was not my fault.  Where were they?" I asked.



"In the desk compartment," he mumbled.

Now any altercation that followed could have been avoided at this very minute...... 

IF

• Sam had said he was sorry.

OR

• I had made a joke about us both having had a senior moment.

Neither happened.  Sam has never liked admitting to an error.  In fact, it has been a bone of contention between us many times in our  marriage.  It has always pissed me off, and this time was no exception.  Sam ignored me and walked away.
  

                  No apology yet, even though it was his mistake.

Love Means You Damn Well Should Say You Are Sorry!

I grit my teeth, roughly pushed in the chair, and started down the hall.  By the time I hit the bedroom, I was seething.  I even thought about what might happen and slammed the door anyway.

1.....2.....3..... the door flew open and Sam took my wrist.  "Let's go," he said.  "You should not have slammed the door."


"It's not my fault!  You're the one who made a mistake. All you had to do was to say you were sorry."


"Doesn't matter.  Now, we are talking about your anger and slamming the door."


And, boy, I was surely mad.  I can only remember one other spanking in 3 years where I was still trying to argue my point at the same time Sam was taking a paddle to my ass.  It was a long damn spanking, and it wasn't until the pain actually brought me back to center that I finally shut up.

Talk To Mr Paddle

 Most times, the hugging when we finish a discipline spanking is nice, and we reconnect fairly quickly.  Not this time.  (I hate the word "aftercare" anyway.)  Sam just pulled me onto his lap and held me close.  It took a long while before I was hugging back.  He talked to me gently and made me feel loved and forgiven.  Time to move on.  And, yes, the apology finally came.


Am reaching out here, Abby.  I need some advice.  When I read books or other peoples' blogs, the husband is pretty much always the perfect HOH.  He wouldn't make a mistake, never mind not apologizing.  One little "Sorry" would have wiped everything away.  This never would have happened.

                                       OK, no more of the Abby pretense.

                                She wouldn't know anyway.


Who I am really asking is all of you.  I do honestly know my temper escalates the situation.  It was really hard for me to be perfectly honest about my own actions in this post.  But don't any of your husbands have a fault that makes it hard to think, "my HOH" always knows best?  

                        Has there ever been a time when your 
               spouse's shortcomings precipitate an altercation?

 
                         I really need to know I'm not alone here.  

LOL Day - If the Shoe Fits, Wear It !

This little blogger will need 6 pairs of shoes!

Well, the big day is finally here!  Last November was my first year blogging.  I had no idea what LOL day meant and was not at all prepared.  This year I was determined to be ready for the festivities.  LOL is supposed to stand for "Love Our Lurkers."  I really do take exception to the "lurker" designation.  Sounds a bit voyeuristic and negative to me.  I certainly did not feel that way back when I was just exploring this corner of blogland.  I much prefer to call this day......


                                        Love Our Learners

I would compare my early reading online to the pleasure I get from shoe shopping.  They are all so lovely, and I like to hold them and stroke them and try them on.  (I like leather in many walks of my life!)  And I don't want some person continually asking me if I would like some help.  I don't want to be interrupted.  Please leave me alone and let me browse.

Mmmm......Just Looking

That was the way I started reading here in blogland.  I was browsing, and I was not ready to buy.  Therefore, I did not comment.  Period.  I was not lurking; I was learning.
  

              I was definitely not interested in chains and collars
                           and kinky metal accoutrements.

                        Neither did I want sensible, orthopedic
                                LOL (Little Old Lady) shoes.

                          Absolutely no Birkenstocks or Crocs.

                             Nix on practical athletic wear, too.

               I was searching for some Classic, Black Pumps.


And then I found Meredith at New Twist.  Oh, happy day!  My analogy here is that I thought Mere and her blog were CLASSY.  Finally, I thought, "I would gladly buy this pair of shoes!"

Why do we even bother with setting aside this time for you?  Easy answer to that one.  We were all just like you at one time.  Once I discovered that there were shoes, aka blogs, out there by women who seemed a lot like me, I was very excited.  As they say.....


                                  If the Shoe Fits, Wear It.

These women were also fascinated by spanking and desired a relationship based on dd or ttwd.  I was like a person dying of thirst.  I would find someone's blog and read it from start to finish.  I couldn't get enough shoes: I was insatiable.  Have you ever ached because you wanted something so badly?  That was me.  I wanted to talk to someone like me.

Shy?  Yep.....  Scared?  You bet......  Unsure?  Very.....  At that time, I knew in my heart that I could never even be half as clever or confident as the women whose shoes/blogs I was trying on for size.  They were special, and I was not.


                                          So What Changed? 

                            One day I finally got the courage
                                       To write a comment.

And so an amazing transformation began.  If you are only still wishing for a ttwd relationship, it gives you a place to ask questions.  Many bloggers welcome respectful emails which gives you a much more personal way to reach out.  If you are just getting started with ttwd, it is a great way to get first hand advice.  What do we get out of it?  The same thing we get from blogging.  The writing makes us examine ourselves and the way we practice ttwd and support that goal.  It keeps us polishing our shoes, if you will.

Please, Please, Please

  

This is not to say you should not be careful if you decide to get started with commenting or writing a stranger online.  Protect your privacy and do not always assume that everyone is good.  But there are a lot of honest and wonderful people out here, too.  I even call some of them my sisters now.  So, if and when you decide to make a comment, we will so welcome you.  Remember that we were all there, too.

                                                       Signed With Love,
                                                       Ella Ever After
                                                         Size 7 1/2 Medium

 
 

Ella and the Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Day

First, I need to explain that I lifted this title from a beloved children's picture book by Judith Viorst about a boy named Alexander.  I read this book to my own boys long ago, and Son #2, who had red hair, always identified with Alexander.  It was a favorite of my kids at school, as well.


It tells of the misfortunes of Alexander who could tell it wasn't going to be a good day when he woke up with gum in his hair.  And it didn't improve, right down to lima beans for dinner.

About halfway through yesterday, that book popped up in my head and stayed there.  From the crack of dawn I was having a very bad day.  I woke up to dog barf all over the living room carpet.  I'm pretty sure it was the younger and dumber of our 2 dogs because she seemed to have a guilty dog look on her face.  She will eat anything, including rocks, grass, and wood chips.  Then she will promptly chuck it up on the rugs (never on the tile, which would be so much easier to clean.)  So rug shampooer was out at 4:30 am.

Traffic was horrendous even though I was out of the house early for a 7:30 am meeting.  There were 2 cars going 30 mph right next to each other, and there must have been 10 pissed off drivers stacking up behind them.  Have I ever mentioned that I easily lose my temper when driving?  Well, I damn well do!  It is even one of our rules.

At work I realized that some a#@!%hole stole a dessert out of the common area kitchen fridge.  A co-worker tried to cheer me up by saying maybe it was some young, starving resident working the night shift at our medical facility.  That didn't go down with me well at all.  It even had my name on it!

Then the handle of the rolling cart I use at work to transport heavy items over distances was stuck and wouldn't collapse.  With my usual dose of patience, I decided to just smack the thing.  Well, the sliding metal tube finally did collapse and took a huge chunk out of my pinky.  By the time I got the blood staunched, it was all over my clothes.  The day was getting better by the minute.

Next, the IT guys showed up at my desk and said they had to install Windows 10.  I was instantly suspicious.  When we did that on Sam's computer at home, it was a godawful mess, and we finally had to call in a network specialist to put everything to rights.  My guy at work, Tony, said not to worry; he would make sure everything transferred cleanly.  Right.  Nothing got done the rest of the day.  I would make a list of 5 things that were wrong and each time I would go ask Tony to come work some more.  It is still not right.  I was not a happy camper. 


                                 Microsoft can kiss my ass.

Worst of all, it screwed up my Pandora account!  I can't work without Pandora playing.  The final straw was I cannot have my desktop countdown clock gadget.  I have always had one set to my next vacation right down to the days, hours, minutes, and seconds.  I think this is cruel and unusual punishment, and I am holding Bill Gates personally responsible.

By 2:00 pm I was already thinking about Miller Time and being home with Sam.  The only thing that was working correctly was my email, so I wrote to Sam looking for sympathy.  Older Son, in an effort to cheer me up, teasingly sent me an email that said,


                             "Well, take that frown and turn it 
                                   upside down, little lady."


Luckily that boy knows I love him and did not take me seriously when I told him where he could shove his little platitude of happiness.

My sweet man came out to meet me when I pulled up at home about 5:30 pm and did indeed have a glass of beer waiting for me.  He listened to my bitching patiently, but finally came over and started unzipping my pants.


                              "I think you need some attention.  
            Something to put the whole day behind you," he smiled.  
                                   "Just because I love you."

I smiled back.  Probably the first time all day.  My goodness, with every swat of his hand, the tension melted a bit more.  Lots of rubbing, too, which was heavenly, as well as his soft and loving voice.  It's like Sam unscrews the top of my head and pours in a big pitcher of patience and sweetness.

Sat on my honey's lap and pounded several beers.  My favorite place to sit.  Hugs, kisses, and lots of happy talk.  Don't need anti-depressants or therapy.  I've got Sam and ttwd.  So Ella's terrible, horrible, no good, very bad day had a Happily Ever After in spite of life's attempt to bring her down.

                              Tomorrow's bound to be better.