I burned an entire batch!
***
The whole house smells of peanut butter cookies. Was it an impulse purchase that made me buy the Betty Crocker mix?
Not all all. I wanna bring them to the Beehive at 2 pm.
The timer just rang. The cookies look great but they're soft in the middle like me.
Four more minutes.
Meantime I'm reading EDUCATED, a Memoir by Tara Westover, which I've described as living in a medieval torture chamber.
When I woke up I mis-read my clock and thought it was 10 am.
It was actually 8 am.
Ran downstairs and ate my oatmeal and peanut butter, waiting for me in the stove.
Ate slowly while listening to a Passage to India by EM Forster.
Followed the directions for the Betty Crocker peanut butter cookies mix.
You needed tablespoons of things.
I had no tablespoons, only teaspoons.
Twice I lost everything I wrote on my blog so I'm typing it now onto Wordpad.
My short story for today is tentatively called IVAN.
His real name is Arnie but ain't Ivan a great name?
The proofs came in from Rene, the graphic designer.
Lots of corrections must be made.
PEANUT BUTTER COOKIES
Betty Crocker in her Starbucks Apron
has made one batch of peanut butter cookies.
They are good, maybe even delicious.
Tiny cracks like rivers in Minnesota
jigsaw across each delicacy, which
Betty, really me, Ruth Z,
thinks, What could be better?
Cookies for breakfast, baked in
total silence so I could focus
on what I was doing.
Mrs. Evelyn Hess, my fifth grade
teacher in Shaker Heights, would
have been proud of me.
But who will save me if a prowler
breaks in at night?
Can I talk him down?
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