These cookies are the product of a story that I'm sure all of us know all too well. Glorious, wonderful, exciting and perfect cookie idea. It's basically brilliant and beautiful mixed together. You can't sleep because these cookies have to be made. You make the cookie dough with those little flutters of excitement in your stomach. (Well its that or you're hungry. So you eat some cookie dough just to be sure.) You roll out the cookie dough. Its so tempting to rush through cutting, but you take your time because these cookies have to be perfect. You mix up the icing. You eat some ice cream. (Because again, you have to make sure you keep up your strength.)
Then you start decorating the cookies. And slowly, slowly, you start to realize that something is a little wrong. And then a little more wrong. And then a lot wrong. And the cookies look NOTHING like that sparkly dancing vision in your head. And then you don't even want to finish the last of them because you hate them. And you just want to throw them in the garbage. But you don't because you are too upset to even touch them. (And because your husband would be super mad if he knew you threw away perfectly good tasting cookies for no reason other than the emotional turmoil they were causing inside you.) And you cry yourself to sleep on the couch. And then in the morning, completely beyond your control, your hands take a picture of them and show them to dozens of unmet friends on the internet. Its an all too common tale, I'm afraid.
Right now I'm on book two of the series. It's where I vow to myself that I WILL make these cookies again and the next time they will look exactly like I imagined they would, except even better. Has anyone read this one? I'm anxious to know how it ends.