I tried to become the woman I wanted to marry

Breakfast. Cup of tea light and sweet, and a homemade Toll House cookie.

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Several years ago when I was single I decided that I was sick of waiting for the woman I wanted to marry to show up. (I was single for close to 6 years and this maddened my friends who didn't understand how I could go so long without sex. Truth be told, the longest I've ever gone without sex is 2 years.) When the woman of my dreams failed to show up, I decided to become her. I can do a lot of things: take apart small appliances and engines, fix them, put them back together; cut and stack a cord of wood, farm organically, write, listen carefully (when I choose to), and be there for my friends.

The one thing I was never any good at was baking. I attribute this to the fact that neither of my parents did much baking. A long, long time ago my father would bake cookies around Christmas and  mail them to his in-laws. (Which is actually a really nice thing to do.) My mother never baked and hated her mother in-law.

As with most things in life, I tend to be really good at the things I like doing. I started to bake cakes because I wanted to impress myself and eat cake. I got so good at it that I started selling them to friends for birthdays, graduation parties, and office events. This lasted for about a year. During that time I tried making cookies a couple of times and I just couldn't get them to be where I wanted them to be.

Last week I realized I wanted to have cookies as dessert for lunch. I baked 2 dozen Toll House cookies. This morning, as evidenced by the photo (see above), the cookie did not make it to lunch. It was incorporated into breakfast. And a damn good breakfast it was.