Christmas offers a lovely excuse to bake cookies to share and enjoy. The other day, after some merry baking, I'd just finished bagging up some cookies to give. There were several left so I arranged them attractively on a pretty plate with a holly design. Strolling jauntily, humming a holiday tune, I headed to the dining room to display the cookies in the fancy cake dish.
Then I tripped. On the way down I did a one quarter turn- no doubt it was an unconscious desperate attempt to save the cookies. The cookies and the gorgeous holly plate took flight from my left hand. I landed on my right side, my arm pinned under me. My shoulder absorbed most of the force. It hurt a lot. I lay there thinking: please don't be a rotator cuff injury.
The cookies were strewn on the rug. How fortunate that I'd vacuumed the day before. The dog hair will be at a minimum. I sat up and noted that the beautiful holly plate appeared unharmed. My husband appeared. "Oh my God!" he said. "Are you alright?"
"Yes, yes." I pointed at the cookie carnage. "Save the cookies!"
As he gathered the broken cookies and reassembled them on the festive holly plate, our dogs drew near. They had been silently watching this little drama and wanted a part of the unexpected bounty. Like hyenas circling ever closer to a lion's kill, they moved in. A glare from this wounded lioness convinced them to retreat. My husband placed the damaged cookies on the resplendent holly plate in the cake dish.
"OK. Go ahead." I told the dogs. A few Shortbread crumbs wouldn't hurt them. Cookies are made to be enjoyed and shared.