by Kathy Brasby | Dec 24, 2013 | Hope
Long before Pinterest could puncture my wanna-be creative bubble, there was the nativity Christmas cookie cutter set.
I sometimes call Pinterest the dream site: I can only do those projects in my dreams.
The cookie cutter set was like that. The box seduced me with photos of beautiful cookies in the shape of Mary and Joseph and baby Jesus in a manger. A little piping of frosting, a few sparkles in the right place and we would have a unique nativity set.
And the best part was that we could do this project as a family with everyone helping.
I bought the set.
Yes, I knew we wouldn’t get the cookies quite as perfect as the photos. We had a two-year-old at the time. He’d produce a cute but goofy little cookie.
It was OK.
I forgot to factor in his mother.
I knew we were in trouble when I pulled the cookie sheet out of the oven. Baby Jesus in the manger more resembled a toasted marshmallow.
The sheep – and I’d made lots of them – all were blimps. Some had short fat legs but, since you couldn’t tell where the head was, the legs could have been porcupine prickles, too.
The camels’ longer legs had grown together while baking. “Is this an elm tree?” asked the six-year-old.
The shepherds had morphed into tall planks of wood and kneeling Joseph was now a giant S.
The kids were game, anyway. They slathered on frosting that was too thin so that the blues and oranges dribbled into each other making a muddy brown on the kings.
Well, I thought those were the kings because of the lumps at the top which I identified as crowns. Maybe they were cows, in which case the muddy brown might make more sense.
I had planned to assemble the stable printed on the back of the box but tossed that after our older son frosted a angel as though it were a donkey. I was not displaying these.
When we were done, with sticky frosting on our fingers and sparkles drifting to the floor, I studied the blobs of cookies. “Well, this didn’t work out quite like I had hoped.”
My husband surveyed the table, surrounded by sets of eager young eyes, and picked up a cookie. “Then we’d better destroy the evidence.”
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by Kathy Brasby | Dec 17, 2013 | Hope
I believe Christmas sugar cookies are all about the making. It’s that time when I drag out my cookie cutters, rinse them off, and produce a countertop full of camels and reindeer (same cutter) and candy canes so dry that they only served as coasters for the frosting.
And my younger son wanted to make sugar cookies. At age 5, he still liked to hang out in the kitchen so I seized this wonderful teaching opportunity before he got bored of hanging out with me.
“Here’s how we roll out our dough for the cookie cutters,” I explained. I formed a handful of dough into a nice round ball, then flattened it with the heel of my hand. “Then we can roll it out to a nice even thickness for the cookie cutters.”
Oh, yeah, he was in. That first batch featured trees and stars and a manger. Once those were baking, he announced he could do the next round.
Motherly pride is a dangerous thing and it got me that time. I was thrilled that he had watched and learned so quickly. I took a step back to watch.
Yep, he scooped out a hunk of dough and rolled it into a ball. Nice start.
He placed the ball on the counter top and then raised his hand in the air before punching that dough ball with the side of his fist.
We’re talking a round of middleweight boxing here. Bam! Bam! Bam!
Then he dusted off his hands and calmly reached for a cookie cutter.
“Um, aren’t you going to use the rolling pin?”
He gave me one of those “I got this, Mom, so go fold laundry” looks. “It’s already flat.”
Yes, it sure was. Christmas cookies are all about the making, right?
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by Kathy Brasby | Dec 10, 2013 | Hope
Late on Christmas day, we bundled our family into the car and headed for a ski trip in the Colorado mountains.
The gift-giving had been trimmed back so that we could enjoy this ski outing but my husband wanted to do something special for the family during our travel that evening.
“Let’s stop at that nice steak house on the interstate,” he said.
So we did. They were closed. It was, after all, Christmas day.
Hmmm. We hadn’t thought of that so we continued to the next town and pulled in, thinking the Chinese restaurant there might work well.
Closed.
We were starting to get a clue, finally. But we had five kids in the car and the Christmas cookies were wearing off. They were restless.
“Let’s try a fast-food place.” My husband had set his heart on a special mealtime family gathering but his stomach was growling, too.
Closed.
Grocery stores were closed. Walmart was closed.
We were about to inventory old snacks left in coat pockets when my husband spotted a 7-Eleven convenience store.
We turned the kids loose. “Find something to eat.”
Because there’s virtually nothing healthy in a snack place like that, the kids were not bound to a balanced meal. They grabbed chips and popcorn and gallons of fountain drinks.
Their parents have felt guilty for years for not having enough foresight to avoid such a disappointment. We wanted to give them a nice steak dinner but instead offered candy bars and peanuts.
But I have been assured by our older son not to worry.
“I got a fistful of dill pickles,” he said. “Best Christmas dinner ever!”
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by Kathy Brasby | Dec 3, 2013 | Hope
I wouldn’t have invited my friend if I hadn’t thought it was a good idea.
She was less sure.
“Just why are you inviting me to your house for tea?” she said.
“We just haven’t had a chance to sit down and catch up on things.”
“Huh.” She seemed unconvinced. “We live in the same town, you know. You saw me at church and at the picnic last week. Do you need to talk about something?”
“Of course not. Just tea. We’ll sit down and enjoy my tea.”
“Let me see if I have a free afternoon. Serving crumpets, too?” She had a sarcastic edge sometimes.
“Just tea.”
“Wait a minute. Are you still trying to get rid of that box of acai banana tea?”
Busted. “Maybe.”
“Dump it in the trash.”
“But it was a Christmas gift.”
“It tastes weird.”
I sighed. “Did you give it to me for Christmas?”
“You don’t know who gave it to you. So, if you throw away the tea, you’ll be insulting someone you don’t even remember?”
“Quit using logic.”
“Sorry.”
There was a short pause and I took a deep breath. “So, are you coming for tea?”
Believe it or not, all I heard was a dial tone. Busted.
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by Kathy Brasby | Dec 2, 2013 | Hope
As you know, this blog is about meaning through stories. Here’s an interesting article about the Science behind Storytelling.
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by Kathy Brasby | Nov 26, 2013 | Hope
Inventory control is not always as boring as it sounds.
I once was in charge of ordering parts and verifying shipments. I ordered an unusual oil filter for a customer. What I got was a little cellophane bag holding a single bolt.
Who sees “oil filter” on the order form and thinks that a bolt is a worthy substitute?
Another order requested six spark plugs. In came six pickup bumpers. Think about the difference in box size for spark plugs and bumpers.
I don’t know; I’d think the shipper would have noticed.
It wasn’t unusual for a part number to have a substitute. For example, a can of grease might originally be S102. Then it would have a substitute number, maybe S112.
The can of worms potential was incredible.
I ordered a case of S102. OK, the order form substituted to the new number: S112 and I got a case of fan belts. No cigar.
But here’s my favorite. Each part’s package, whether box or bag, had the pick ticket attached. That pick ticket was a computer-generated card which included our dealership name and the part number with description.
So one day I got in, pick ticket attached, a 2-foot square of cardboard.
I spent the rest of the day trying to conjure up the scenario that would have allowed a shipper to think a headlight looked like a flat piece of cardboard.
Inventory control is not always boring.
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