Sending out a HUGE www.CookiesbyDave.com THANK YOU to our friends, the Price Family!  Not only did they supply some bling for our snowy friends, but they also arranged for a special visit from celebrity chef Gordon Ramsay.

Now, if I can just convince Chef Ramsay to make tonight’s dinner.

 

The noise seemed odd.  Rolling over in bed, the alarm clock read 5:30AM.  The noise was misplaced.  It wasn’t from our clock.  Feeling all manly man-ish, protector of family and all, I got up to investigate.

Heading toward the sound, still half-asleep and half-dressed, I stumbled down the hallway.  There in front of me, I saw an open door and heard an alarm clock’s buzz.  Then suddenly, a shadowy figure who appeared to be cursing himself, rushed by me into the room.  Disabling the alarm, the figure once again dashed away into the early morning’s darkness.

Shrugging, I headed back to bed.  I found it reassuring that we live in a safe neighborhood and the incident probably was of no concern.  My child’s sleep habits, on the other hand, might be something I need to review.

 

I have a bad habit (well, I have many, but let’s stick with just one for this evening).  I have been trying to get better, I really have.  You see, I tend to eat almost all of any given item in the house, but leave just enough behind to claim that I intended to share it.  Yummy tub of ice cream, all gone except for ½ cup.  Bag of gourmet potato chips, see ya, except for 3 or 4 on the bottom of the bag.  New type of cereal, delicious, but hold back at least enough for half a bowl.  Sort of like sharing.  Sort of like self-control.  Sort of, not really, but I truly have been trying to reform myself.  That’s why today’s bit of Karma was a bitter pill to swallow and also a tangled mystery to confront.

Setting:  Kitchen Cabinet.

All appeared to be normal, as I reached into the cupboard to pull out the Pop Tarts.

Oh yes, everything appears to be normal, but don’t fool yourself.

Opening the box, I was shocked to discover (gasp!) only an empty metallic wrapper remained.

Shiny Pop Tart wrapper, sad and alone.

What dastardly breakfast table deed had taken place?  What shocking pastry abduction had occurred?  Something horribly wrong had torn at the very social norms that hold our fragile preservative laden society together, because I know, I know deep down in my heart, no one in my beloved family would ever return an empty Pop Tart box to the cabinet.  Never, because we live in a land governed by law and respect, and I know my children would never leave me Pop Tart-less.  Never, because otherwise, we are no better than savage Pop Tart devouring beasts of individualistic intent.  Otherwise, we must sleep with one eye open.  A steady gaze set upon the remaining Tarts of Pop.

 

DAVEY CROCKER SUGAR COOKIE M&M BARS

“Today’s cookie inspiration came from the Business section of the ‘Minneapolis Star Tribune.’  It contained a story about a challenge that ‘Betty Crocker’ brand was having with dropping sales, even though it has a strong online presence.  Well, I say build upon your strengths, Ms. Crocker!  Why not diversify your persona?

The many faces of Betty Crocker, even the one that looks eerily similar to Téa Leoni.

That’s right, it’s time to invite a blogger to the party and introduce, ‘Davey Crocker.’

See, I already own the uniform.

Delicious sugar cookie flavor coupled with white chocolate chips and a delightful M&M crunch, these tasty bars have convinced me that I want to join Betty’s team.  Enjoy!”

17.5 ounce Package Betty Crocker Sugar Cookie Mix

½ cup Butter

1 Egg

½ cup M&Ms

1 cup White Chocolate Chips

½ cup M&Ms

 

Soften the butter.

Preheat oven to 350 degrees.

Mix together the sugar cookie mix, butter, and egg.

Stir in ½ cup M&Ms.

Stir in White Chocolate Chips.

Grease just the bottom of a 9”x13” baking pan.

Press dough into the bottom of the pan.

Sprinkle the remaining ½ cup M&Ms onto the top of the dough and ever so gently press down.

Bake for 25 minutes or until lightly browned.

Place on wire rack to cool for 1 hour.

Cut into bars.

 

Makes about 24 bars.

Revised Source:  “Sugar Cookie M&M’s Bars” recipe on www.bettycrocker.com.

 

Today, my son Sam turned 9-years-old, so to help celebrate, here’s an All-Sam post.  Enjoy!

Part I – The Cookie (“Wait Till You’re Older” Meringues)

Yesterday, I asked Sam what type of cookie he would like me to make for his birthday.  His immediate answer was “meringues,” the cookie we always begin baking on New Year’s Eve.  Considering that you need to start baking them a day in advance (the “Wait Till Next Year” Meringues recipe is found on page 70 of my cookie cookbook, “Today is a Great Day for a Cookie,” which as always is available for free download at www.CookiesbyDave.com), I got started.  Plus, to honor Sam, I figured I would personalize it a tad and make it a little more vibrant and colorful than usual.  So replace the vanilla extract with peppermint extract and add a few drops of red food coloring.  There you have it, vibrant and colorful, just like my Sam.

Sam with his birthday morning meringue (more pink than I would have liked, but a nice try).

Part II – The Cake (backstory – Sam is an early riser and we often ask why he never sleeps in…)

Sam had asked for a football cake on his birthday.  Well, that’s not too hard, but I tend to be a slow cake baker and I need to concentrate, so when the house was quiet and everyone else was asleep, I got started.  Needless to say, since I am slow, I was up late, but at least I had a random “Star Trek – The Next Generation” rerun to keep me company (Counselor Troi was having some serious self-confidence issues).

Putting the finishing touches on the cake, at 1:15AM, I heard some footsteps.  There was Sam who greeted me with “Are you happy that I slept in on my birthday?”  Scary to find out that this is what he considers “sleeping in.”

Behold, the late night Football Cake (a little more “pointy” than I like, but nice try).

Part III – The Jokes (backstory – Nothing makes Sam prouder than when he thinks of a new joke.  Today, he was apparently thinking of “fish” and came up with two new entries for his comedy catalog.)

What’s a fish’s favorite place to be?  [At the “pool” table.]

Where does a fish keep his money?  [In the “river” bank.]

Our birthday boy, Sam.

Our Boys:  The Complete Set.

 

Getting ready for dinner, what did I see on the kitchen counter?  My 8-year-old son Sam’s socks.

This sock placement and the timing for dinner provided some real inspiration.  All I needed were a few more minutes and I could take a photo of the socks at the dinner table.  They would be sitting there all relaxed, enjoying a glass of wine, and working on their salad, as they wait for the soup and bread to arrive.  Then without warning, “Poof!  Gone!”  The socks had vanished!  Ah, the irony of life.  The one time I wanted stinky abandoned socks to hang around a bit longer in the kitchen and they decide to head off somewhere else.  What poor timing for those socks to grow feet.

No one ever said that life is fair, especially for sock photographers.

Let me start out tonight’s post by saying that I don’t like making fun of other people.  Really, in most cases I would much rather make fun of myself or silly circumstances.  As a result, please do not take offense to the following subject matter, since it was observed in a purely innocent light.  There, disclaimer provided.  Here we go…

We once attended a church, where our pastor provided some useful advice.  So say for instance, you see someone else in need or really struggling, but find yourself for whatever reason unable to help, it never hurts to say a prayer for that individual.  Turning troubles over to God.  Never bad advice.

Well, earlier tonight, I found myself in what I believed to be one of those instances.  Approaching an intersection, I saw a man holding a sign.  Anticipating that it was someone down on their luck and in need of help, I started the search for some money.  My wallet was empty and the spare change in the car was paltry.  This dilemma however became pointless, since I was approaching the intersection at such a speed and the light was such that I would not even have a chance to safely stop.  Remembering my former pastor’s advice, I remembered that I could at least say a prayer for the man.

Suddenly, it occurred to me.  The man was on the wrong side of the road for me to stop.  Plus, he was in an awkward location.  Prayer, there was little else I could do.

Getting closer, I looked at his cardboard sign, which much to my surprise did not read, “Please, help,” but instead said, “Beware of Feral Pigs.”  What?  Really, “Beware of Feral Pigs.”  Further befuddled, I was now unsure how to direct my prayer.  Toward the man?  Toward feral pigs?  Toward the victims of feral pigs?  I smiled.

Unaware that there was a feral pig problem so close to home and still confused, I Googled it.  Well, I could not find any references to feral pigs in my area, but apparently it’s a real problem.  There are actual human victims of feral pigs.  Yep, it turns out that these big wild hogs can cause deer like damage to a car.  Hum, I was unaware of that.

So here’s the take away…  It never hurts to pray.  It’s okay to smile.  Feral pigs are an actual problem.  Who knew?

 

Lately, the boys have been pretty spotty about making their beds. This morning, however, I was very pleased to see a properly made bed.  When what to my wondering eyes did appear?  A ripe set of dirty clothes on the floor.  Apparently, it is not a natural extension of tidiness to think, “Hey, I’m making my bed, but wouldn’t this room look swell, if I picked up these nasty smelling clothes and placed them in the hamper?”  Apparently not.  #DaddyRant

 

My poor poor pitiful soul.  As I played “Uno Attack!” (yes, the game actually comes with an exclamation point in its title) with my three boys, I caught myself thinking about way too much strategy.  Not really a strategy of winning (don’t get me wrong, I still wanted to win, but I didn’t want to cause too much strife or sadness in winning), but rather I found myself trying to craft a delicate balance.  Be the “Fun Maker.”  Don’t knock the same son away from victory too many times.  Note which son is getting close to tears, tears of genuine sadness, as if somehow success at Uno has become a value of net worth.  Try not to bully a son that is getting too arrogant, but still subtly knock him back down to Earth.  Don’t play favorites and try not to wind them all up too much.  Uno, I’m exhausted well before I ever get close to yelling the phrase.

 

Our beagle Kirby has grand desires to be a watchdog.  Every now and then during the day, he’ll run from window to window barking.  Usually, he suspects something sinister is taking place, such as a person walking down the road or a squirrel in the yard (oh, the horror!).

Well, earlier today, Kirby was under the impression that someone was walking along the trail in the public park to the rear of our house.  Jumping up on the porch’s couch to get a better view, Kirby with his hair raised howled to scare away the evil walker.  That’s at least my guess, because Kirby tends to cry wolf (or beagle), so for a while I just let him rant and rave.  Eventually, however, I tired of Kirby’s behavior and I began letting out an occasional half-hearted, “Kirby, stop it,” or “Kirby, no.”

Suddenly, Kirby’s behavior changed.  He jumped off the couch, ran into the living room, and began silently gazing at the fireplace’s glass enclosure.  Thanks, Kirby.  Just as I suspected, Santa was breaking into the house.