I am on the cookie rota for Monday night’s rehearsal, and so of course I am making Hallowe’en cookies. For Pokey’s visit, I had made ginger stars, chocolate cats, peppermint skulls, and butterscotch pumpkins, and they were a hit. So I figure I will repeat that, making some every day between now and then. Then I can take some of each to rehearsal and still have some for my boys.
Since I started on Thursday, I had an extra day, so I added mini chocolate chips to an ordinary sugar cookie dough and cut them out with a spider-shaped cutter. This makes a very creepy spider.
I also made an appointment with the personal trainer at the gym. Those who know me will be astounded. They will know that the chances of my making an appointment with anyone are so slim that the chances of my making an appointment to work out with a boy named Evan are virtually nil. However, when I tell you that it was the force of the aerobics instructor’s personality, you will know just what I mean. This woman, though she may look like a Barbie doll, was able to make me and Pokey both balance on giant rubber balls and kick our legs around, so it was child’s play for her to make me sign up with Evan.
I left the gym immediately, even though it was early. Making an appointment was enough of a stretch for one day. That gave me time to bake creepy spotted spiders, not perhaps what Evan would have recommended for me.
If you have ever wondered what a $160 knitted hat would look like, Crazy Aunt Purl has kindly shown us. It looks like something you could do better yourself, frankly. There has been some agitation for hats chez Fibermom. I don’t know what has happened to all the hats I made last year and the year before and the year before that, but it is clear that I will have to make some more. Maybe this one or this. I can probably use a break from the bawks anyway.
However, this weekend I must also make a costume for work for Monday. And finish the cookies for the rehearsal. And learn my music. I am giving blood today. The heroine of Brilliant spends her weekends engaged in felonious undertakings, creeping off to Provence in disguise, or having trysts with rough-trade millionaires. Compared with that, donating blood, sewing, knitting, singing, and baking do not seem thrilling, but I expect to enjoy it.