DARK SIDE WOOKIE COOKIES

“Ah yes, wookie brown with a ‘chewy’ interior and a bite that fights back.  After eating a few, you’ll feel like you could take on the Empire single-handedly.  Dark side be damned, these cookies will light(saber) up your life.  May the Fourth be with you, always.”

1 cup Butter

1½ cups Sugar

1 cup Brown Sugar

2 Eggs

2 teaspoons Vanilla Extract

1½ cups Flour

½ cup Cocoa Powder

1 teaspoon Baking Soda

½ teaspoon Salt

2½ cups Old Fashioned Oats

¾ cup Semi-Sweet Chocolate Chips

¾ cup Pretzels, lightly crushed

Preheat oven to 350 degrees.

Cream butter, sugar, and brown sugar.

Mix in eggs and vanilla extract.

Mix in flour, cocoa powder, baking soda, and salt.

Mix in oats.

Stir in chocolate chips and pretzels.

Drop tablespoon size balls of dough on parchment paper lined baking sheets.

Bake for 12 minutes.

Makes 62 cookies, just short of a full “Order 66” cookies.

Revised Source:  “Chocolate Oatmeal Cookies” recipe on www.hersheys.com.

An unnamed Sith Lord enjoying a “Dark Side Wookie Cookie.”  They’re so good, you’ll feel like you’re in the forest canopy high above Kashyyyk.

Too much Raisin Bran sitting in your cereal cupboard?  What to do?  What to do?  Well, seize the moment and bake some cookies, that’s what you do!

Raisin Bran cookies… fresh, puffy, and hot from the oven.

RAISIN BRAN COOKIES

“With that distinctive flavor of Raisin Bran and a hint of crunch, you’ll want to gobble down a few of these puffy little cookies for breakfast.  Plus, take it from my wife, they’re ‘fiberlicious.’”

¾ cup Butter

¾ cup Sugar

½ cup Brown Sugar

2 Eggs

2 cups Raisin Bran

1 cup Flour

1 cup Whole Wheat Flour

1½ teaspoons Baking Powder

½ teaspoon Salt

½ cup Quick Cooking Oats

½ cup Craisins

Preheat oven to 350 degrees.

Cream butter, sugar, and brown sugar.

Mix in eggs.

Crush Raisin Bran.

Mix in crushed Raisin Bran, flour, whole wheat flour, baking powder, and salt.

Mix in quick cooking oats.

Stir in Craisins.

Drop tablespoons of dough onto parchment paper lined baking sheets.

Bake for 10 minutes or until the bottoms of the cookies have browned.

Makes about 46 cookies.

Revised Source:  Recipe for “Oatmeal Raisin Bran Cookies” on www.Food.com.

Common sense tips that came to mind, after my morning’s presentation to a happy and receptive group.  This also helped me prepare for future groups, which may tend toward the opposite and rather grumpy end of the spectrum.

1) When the crowd is happy, they appreciate it when you open with a cute, almost folksy, tale.  When the crowd is grumpy, keep your presentation short.  Very short, but not too short as to show your fear.  Greater than 30 seconds and less than five minutes is optimal.

2) When the crowd is happy, it is okay to go off script and just chat.  When the crowd is grumpy, after you finish, it is okay to run.  Fast.

3) Giveaway items are always appreciated.  Just be prepared for the grumpy crowd to throw your promotional items at your head.

4) Always accept the offer of food.  It is the polite thing to do and you are often rewarded with a yummy meal.  When you are around the grumpy crowd, however, make sure that they take the first bite.

5) Use all of your silverware.  This morning, I used the edge of my fork, as a knife, even though I had a knife at my disposal.  This crowd was very friendly and there was no need for self-defense, so I should have used my knife on my pancakes.  Light and fluffy, they were no match for my superhuman strength, as I plunged the edge of my fork into the pancake in a swift cutting motion.  Crack!  I lifted up my fork to see that my testosterone had apparently spiked and the fork’s right tine had snapped off.  “Boy, this bureaucrat is serious,” all those around me thought, “Best not upset him.  I notice he is holding his utensils a little too tight.”  Well, needless to say, the broken fork showed that my message was not to be taken lightly.  Plus, when I flipped my fork over and cut with the other side, it showed my advanced problem solving skills.  Still, take it from me, always use all of your silverware.  It shows the grumpy crowd that you are civilized, as they plot your downfall.

My wounded fork and underutilized knife. 

My wounded fork and underutilized knife displayed in a cool blurry fashion.  Oh so chic.

Today, my mom shared an interesting fact with me.  The average American family loses about 60 socks each year.  60 socks!  That number seemed high to me, so I went on a search for the Paulsen family’s lost socks.  Here’s what I found…

11-year-old Jacob’s socks on the computer printer.  Somehow, I’m not surprised.

6-year-old Ben’s socks on the dining room table.  Gross, but I’m used to it.

Lastly, a second appearance of Ben socks, this time in a somewhat logical spot by his slippers.

60 socks?  Ha!  I only have 54 more to find and 364 days remaining.

#NoSockLeftBehind

9 out of 10 visitors to my blog come from Facebook.  It is the fuel that drives www.CookiesbyDave.com.  Once that dries up, goodbye, “random story of the day.”  Goodbye, “Where in the World are Jacob’s Socks?”  Goodbye, “Cookie of the Week.”  Goodbye, “everything that is ‘Cookies by Dave.’”

Well, that’s why I was so startled, when I discovered that Facebook had mysteriously pulled my post about Federal Reserve Chair Janet Yellen not being good source material for a joke.  No warning.  Just a firm push of the delete button from somewhere in the cyber abyss.  Now mind you, Facebook never pulled my post saying that I was trying to lose weight in order to “bring sexy back.”  Apparently that is acceptable, but pointing out that discussions concerning interest rates are not funny is off limits.  Maybe they thought there is no way that I could “bring sexy back” (or lose a few pounds), so why bother yanking that.  On the other hand, if a joke about Janet Yellen goes viral, God forbid the whole global economy could be in jeopardy.  I smell the vengeful hand of former Fed chair Ben Bernanke at work.

Trust me, Facebook.  I can self censor.  Take for instance earlier today, when I had the car windows down.  It was a pretty day, I was cutting through an office park on the way home for lunch.  A fun song was on the radio.  I was singing along, when I pulled up to a stop sign and there two office workers out for a lunchtime walk were treated to a private concert.  Trust me, from that point until the end of the day, I self censored myself from singing to strangers.  I can handle this.  If I can’t, my wife will ask for a post to be taken down (much to my extremely tolerant wife’s credit this has only happened once…  and she was right…  there I said it, “(My wife) was right” and you can infer that I was therefore wrong… ugh, I admit it).  Any who, I can police myself and when that fails my wife helps keep me at a reasonable level of social acceptance, as a safety valve.  No need for black helicopters.  No need to burn my cookbook.  I shall tell Janet Yellen jokes at the appropriate time, because this is America, gosh darn it.  Funny Federal Reserve joke or not.  (Photo of me standing in front of the flag back-of-jeans-Springsteen-style, “Born in the USA” piped in, “Got in a little hometown jam…”  Fade to black.)

Sitting in a conference call at work.  Discussing agreement provisions with a vendor.  Considering inflation provisions in Years Three and Four of the contract.  What better time for a Federal Reserve joke?  That’s what I thought.  Subtly and without warning, I inserted the name “Janet Yellen” into the conversation.  Stunned silence, followed by a halted chuckle or two.  It’s always hard to know when it’s appropriate to laugh at a train wreck.

Saddened by my pitiful joke, I slinked back to my cubicle.  That’s when I remembered earlier in the day.  Yes, on one of my trips back and forth to the copy room.  I got a little excited.  It was after all “Potluck Day” in the office and the copy room was full of all sorts of goodies.  What better reason to make lots of copies in lots of different trips to the copy room?  Well, on one particular trip, I made a sudden turn.  Too sudden.  Never before have I moved so quickly to rush out of my cubicle.  At that very instance, I spotted a new worker in the office walking by my cube.  I swerved to the right and my shoulder rammed into the outside wall of my cubicle.  I heard the sound of office furniture screaming in agony and I feared the worst.  What if all the cubicles fell like dominos?  A disastrous chain reaction.  Fortunately however the furniture manufacturer had considered imbeciles such as me, when designing their cubicles.  The wall popped out at an angle (I’m guessing about 30 degrees).  Shocked at my handiwork, I apologized several times to my new coworker, who I’m sure was very impressed.  I could not worry about that however.  I had no time.  I had other things to consider.  Pushing my office back into place, I realized that the thought of free food in the copy room had caused me to become somewhat unstable.  It also appeared to give me superhuman strength.  All of this comforts me in a time of punchlessness.  In the time of a failed “Janet Yellen” joke.  After all, her name’s “Janet Yellen” and not “Janet Laughin.”  #CannotStopMyself  #MaybeThePotLuckIsToBlame

In High School, I batted .091.  One for eleven.  Yes, from where I was at I could not even see the Mendoza Line.  Even though my one hit was a thing of beauty that landed softly in grass of left center field, I knew in my heart of hearts at that very young age that my future in baseball was over.

Since that time, my love for the game has however remained.  I have often wondered if I should have pursued a different course.  Management.  Announcing.  Scouting.  Front office.  There were plenty of other courses out there that I never even considered.  Oh well, I continued to love baseball and passed that appreciation onto my oldest son, Jacob.

Last year, sitting in the stands during Jacob’s games (he plays for the Willmar Red Sox), I took great pleasure in starting random cheers.  My favorite was a “Let’s go, Red Sox!”  Half the parents would say “Let’s go” and the other half “Red Sox!”  Sure it sounds simple enough, but at the right moment in a game, it is a thing of beauty.  A true appreciation of the sport.  A sign of joy between children and parents.

As the cold Winter enveloped Minnesota, my mind considered ways of “enhancing” the cheer.  That’s when I took to the Internet (always a questionable move) and purchased a $10 costume.  I would “enhance” the cheer by becoming an actual Red Sock by wearing a red hood.  Simple, yet effective.  Thankfully, I had enough good judgement to resist purchasing the red spandex full body suit.  I fear that I would have looked like a cross between the Blog and the Grinch with a full body rash.  Yes, it would have been the body suit that led to a lawsuit (or better said with less of a rhyme, “the body suit that led to several restraining orders”).

Thank you to Sheryl Price for capturing the moment, although I’m still unsure of who is really behind the mask.

Any who, as I slipped into my minimalist costume, it led to a thought I had never considered.  Mascot.  That may have been my missed baseball calling.  Oh well, roads never traveled.  I live though with no regrets, because on warm Summer evenings, if you open your window and listen closely, drifting across the air you may hear the faint call of a man realizing at last his baseball calling, “Let’s go, Red Sox!”

For the last several weeks, it has been hard catching my 11-year-old son Jacob in the act of leaving his socks in strange places around the house.  For whatever reason, he has embraced the hamper.  Good for him.  Good for our laundry.  Bad for my blog.  Bad for my series, “Where in the World are Jacob’s socks?”

Given this unanticipated state of tidiness, you can imagine my excitement, when yesterday, my wife said, “Hey, look at Ben’s socks.”  Yes, indeed.  There was a candidate for the blog, perched right on the table, my 6-year-old son Ben’s Superman socks.  Gleefully retrieving the camera, I took a photo of the misplaced hosiery.  Then much to my wonder, less than three feet (feet as an English standard of measurement, not human feet, which are usually covered with socks) away from Ben’s socks I spied below, resting peacefully on a chair, a pair of my socks (gasp!).  I don’t even remember the last time I wore these socks.  I certainly don’t recall jumping out of them and leaving them sitting behind on a chair.  Confusion accompanied by an odd sort of happiness.  Additional confirmation that the sock misplacement affliction is genetic.  If that is the case, the genes should provide me with plenty to write about for years to come.

Ah, that moment of pride, when I realize that my son is following in my footsteps or rather socks or something like that.

Preparing to write this evening’s post, I headed through the dining room and what did I see?  My 8-year-old son Sam’s socks resting quietly on the table.  It appears as if the socks are now taking turns.  They have rallied for the cause.  Socks of the world unite!  Down with the hamper!  Power to the feet!

Sam’s socks taking their turn at carrying on the family tradition.

Rest well.  The socks are in charge.

Every day is an opportunity for a new beginning.  A chance to recognize your past, while at the same time forging a fresh start.  This morning, this beautiful Sunday morning, I was reminded of new beginnings.  Standing in church, warm sunlight spilling through stained glass, my smiling children beside me (some more than others), the congregation prayed thanks to the Lord for new life and abundant renewal.  The day was fresh.  The day was new.  Daily, we are all blessed with a fresh set of opportunities, embrace yours today.

“Giver of immortal gladness, fill us with the light of day.” – Henry van Dyke from “Joyful, Joyful We Adore Thee.”

LEMON SUNSHINE COOKIES

“Embracing the beauty and wonder of a new day, enjoy these simple (made from cake mix), yet bold (delicious lemon flavor) morsels.  They are a bit of sunshine.  Sunshine in the form of a cookie.”

Cookie Ingredients

15.25 ounce Lemon Cake Mix

1 Egg

1/3 cup Canola Oil

3 Tablespoons Water

Glaze Ingredients

1 cup Powdered Sugar

2 Tablespoons Lemon Juice

Zest of an entire Lemon

Yellow Decorative Sugar

Preheat oven to 350 degrees.

In a large bowl, stir together the cake mix, egg, canola oil, and water.

Drop tablespoon sized balls of dough onto a parchment paper lined baking sheet.

Bake for 10-12 minutes or until the cookie bottoms have browned.

Cool for 5 minutes on the baking sheet.

Transfer cookie to a wire rack and cool completely.

Combine the powdered sugar, lemon juice, and lemon zest.

Spoon glaze onto the cookie tops.

Sprinkle with the yellow decorative sugar.

Makes about 27 cookies.

Revised Source:  “Lemon Crinkle Kisses” by Michelle L. Gauer, adapted from The Pampered Chef, and reprinted in “Live it!” magazine.

Some will question my decision to get an Anti-Zebra Mussel tattoo, especially those in the Pro-Zebra Mussel camp (friends and family of the heinous little critter).  I however felt that it embraced the spirit of Earth Day and embodied the desire to maintain uncorrupted ecosystems.

Close up image of my tattoo.

Fact.  While they are small time bandits, actual zebra mussels do not wear extremely tiny masks.

Now the question of my bicep muscle is another matter…

Oh my dear boys…  so kind to tolerate such behavior…

Question One:  Has David been visiting the gym?

Answer:  No, but he should, especially the weight room.

Question Two:  Did David have the tattoo placed on a muscle or a large deposit of fat?

Answer:  That question is hurtful and yes, it may be more fat than muscle.

Question Three:  Why do David’s kids tolerate such behavior?

Answer:  Genetics and years of training.

Question Four:  Did David strain himself, while trying to make it appear as if he has an arm muscle?

Answer:  I will answer that as soon as I remove the ice pack from my arm.