PUDDING SUGAR COOKIES

“When confronted with a box of instant pudding mix and colored sugar sprinkles, I was blessed with this recipe option. Soft from the pudding mix with a light crunch from the colored sugar sprinkles, these cookies will join you for summer in a refreshing way.  A great way to celebrate life.  A great way to celebrate summer.”

¾ cup Butter

1 cup Sugar

1 Egg, plus 1 Egg Yolk

1 teaspoon Vanilla Extract

1 teaspoon Baking Soda

½ teaspoon Salt

3.5 ounces Instant Vanilla Pudding Mix

2 cups Flour

1/8 – 1/4 cup Colored Sugar Sprinkles

Preheat oven to 350 degrees.

Cream the butter and sugar.

Mix in the egg, egg yolk, vanilla extract, baking soda, and salt.

Mix in the pudding mix.

Mix in the flour.

Mix in the colored sugar sprinkles.

Drop rounded tablespoons of dough onto parchment paper lined baking sheets.

Bake for 8 minutes or until browned on the cookie bottoms.

Allow to cool for 5 minutes on the baking sheets and remove to wire racks to complete cooling.

Makes about 30 cookies.

Revised Source: “Super Soft Sprinkle Pudding Cookies” recipe on www.cookiesandcups.com.

What makes these cookies even better?  They are endorsed by the Black Panther from Marvel’s universe of superheroes.

Clarification:  at least in our house they are.

I was peacefully watching my son Jacob’s Little League baseball game.  As he warmed up to pitch, I sat behind the dugout absorbing the warm summer sun.  The sky was blue, baseball was being played, my son was also warming up behind the dugout, not more than 60 feet away, what was there not to enjoy?

Life was nearly perfect.  I was a man at peace.

Skid!  Something rapidly bounded across the grass.  It was coming toward me!  No time to react!  Whack!  Impact on my ankle.  Direct hit!

Then a sudden realization that I had been struck by a wayward warm-up pitch…  from my own son.  Some would say it got away from the catcher.  I say it was my 12-year-old son’s first attempt and hopefully a subconscious one at taking his claim to being man of the house.

Well, I certainly did not expect such an early attempt on the Paulsen family crown and I certainly did not expect that baseball.  Patriarch, it’s not all fun and games.

My assailant and me.  Hold up, son.  I’ve still got a few good years left in me.

Hoping to find sushi at the grocery store, all I found were hard boiled eggs…

Sadness, great lunchtime sadness (although they did come with a cute little knife and fork)…

A child’s socks sitting on the dinner table.  Sign of a boy who is planning a summer with his toes in the grass.

Happiness, albeit misplaced happiness, and a sign of hope.

Not to brag, but I think I’ve mastered the Windows Office Suite.

#OldGuyInTheOffice

I’m not sure what is harder, wiping five games worth of infield grime off of my face or washing the bad taste of a 1-4 start to the season out of my mouth?

To make matters worse, callers to local sports talk radio are calling for the manager’s head.  To make matters worser, that manager happens to be me.  But what makes matters worserest is that they have nicknamed my beloved Athletics baseball team, the Pathletics.  Ouch.

Oh well really, what did you expect from Little League?

The Lord giveth my boys socks to wear to church, but the Lord is not the one who taketh them to the hamper.  It is your Earthly father.

Occasionally I will help out at my 9-year-old son’s Little League games by keeping the official score.  For the most part, this involves answering the question “What is the score?” about 46 times, but I also need to keep track of the lineup.

Noting the next few batters that would be coming up for the opposition, I was surprised to see that #6 was named “Dr. V.” Finding this pretty funny, I pointed it out to the Third Grader sitting next to me on the bench.  Overhearing my observation, another coach pointed out “Or he could be named Dru.”

Sure, that’s a possibility too, but I am the official scorer and we will be sticking with Doctor V.  “So it is written, so it shall be done.”

Proof that the other coach’s penmanship was setting me up for a fall.  Ah, the mind games of Little League.  The game inside the game.

FLAKY FLIX

“Recently, I was on my new favorite social media playground called ‘li.st.’  While browsing around, a friend of mine named @bluepuddles (by the way, I’m @CookiesbyDave on li.st) suggested that I try and find a recipe for ‘Flaky Flix’ cookies.

Sort of embarrassed to admit that I was not familiar with Flaky Flix, I did some basic research.  Here’s a quick summary:  Flaky Flix were once mass produced, but then suddenly disappeared and have since drifted into a collective memory.  Now these wafer cookies covered in chocolate and coated with Corn Flakes are the cookie equivalent of Sasquatch living in Area 51.  A delicious legend wrapped in an enigma.  Challenge accepted.

After a quick internet search, I discovered a few options and I must say, I was deeply satisfied.  Plus, the recipe was very simple for such a mysterious chocolaty find.  These are yummy chocolatey sticks of crunchy goodness.  Certainly worth the search.  Enjoy!”

“An inside view of this mysterious cookie delight.”

18 ounces Semi-Sweet Chocolate Chips

1 Tablespoon Shortening

17 ounces (2 boxes) Keebler Fudge Sticks

12 ounces Corn Flakes

Melt together the semi-sweet chocolate chips and shortening.

Crush the corn flakes.

Dip a single fudge stick in the chocolate and coat with corn flakes.

Set on a parchment paper lined baking sheet.  Repeat.

Chill the Flaky Flix in a refrigerator for 30 minutes.

Makes about 42 cookies.

Revised Source:  “Semi-Homemade Flaky Flix” recipe on www.potluckiest.com.

“Flaky Flix:  Satisfying a New Generation”

“Some would even call me, ‘Flaky Flix.’  Just saying.”

No one at home noticed my new haircut.  Begging for attention, I pointed out my hair.  Halfhearted responses arrived, “Oh yeah, nice hair, Dad, “Looks nice,” and “Do you realize that you have something brown on your nose?”

A bit taken back and putting my apparent invisibility on the shelf for a moment, I asked about the brownness of my nose.  “Oh, it looks like coffee or food or something.  Was it there long?” How should I know?  I don’t even look at myself and apparently no one else does either.

Thinking back, at lunch there were some leftovers from an event that I sampled.  Pulled pork sandwiches (yum) and barbeque sauce (gasp, culprit identified).

It was now 6pm and many hours had passed since I ate the sandwich.  What?!?  Invisible at home and now at work, too.  Shall I just plaster on some clown makeup and prance around backwards whistling “Dixie?”  (Fact, I do not normally do that.) No one would care.  No one would notice.

Just another needy boyman, with a new haircut and a brown nose, looking for some attention.  Don’t make me start whistling “Dixie.”

Forgive me for I have sinned.  A lot.  Frequently.  Well specifically, I almost always forget to use the cloth grocery bags at the store.  I end up getting paper bags.  I feel bad, but I recycle.  I still feel bad.  I sin, again.  Repeat.  Please, forgive me. I am a paper bag sinner.

Well the other night, I finally thought my “paper bag” sin would produce a positive outcome.  For once.  Ever.  My 12-year-old son needed one for a school project.  He was unsure of any details regarding the project, but he needed one.  Right away.

Searching the house, wouldn’t you know it? No paper bags to be found.  I had recycled them all.  Every last one.

We had one more option, the storage room.  A land of the lost.  Lost clothing.  Lost appliances.  Lost papers.  Lost dreams.  A room of great sadness.

Entering, I spotted one final bag.  Full of long forgotten and now irrelevant home office papers (a hoarder sin of mine?), I emptied the paper bag and handed it to my son.

“Paper bag” redemption.

Getting ready to leave the house this morning, another son, this time my 9-year-old son, approached me.  “Do we have a paper bag?  I need one for school, today.” Of course, wouldn’t have wanted to ask that last night.  Of course, no idea why he needs it.  Only one option remained, head to my scene of frequent sin to get one more paper bag.  Hurry into the car, it’s off to the grocery store.

Hurry in.  Buy a newspaper.  Place it in a paper sack (paper in paper, a tree somewhere cries, a tree somewhere dies). Hurry back into the car.  Drive, drive.  Goodbye, I love you, have a great day at school.

Hurrying back to the car, I still had a small chance of being on-time for work.  Glancing into the car, what did I see resting on the backseat?  Of course, the bag.  The paper bag that a few minutes before was so important.   So important it was absentmindedly left in the car.

Forgive us our paper bag trespasses, as we forgive those who paper bag trespass against us.

The paper bag of our sins.