The blame for these cookies being a constant presence in my home is placed on my cousin, who texted me the recipe a few weeks ago. I made them quickly while I cooked dinner, and several more double batches pop up every week.
We are obsessed.
They're also friendly for my gluten-free and dairy-free friends! A rare win for us all.
I’ve been trying to
exercise more lately. As a writer with a laptop, a small
apartment, and precious few moments of child-free time, I basically laze around
in bed all day typing and reading.
The only interruption
is the odd phone call or trip to the fridge, the latter of which is punctuated
by couch breaks along to way to prevent fatigue.
My building has
something they like to call “exercise facilities” -- please note the reality is significantly less glamourous than this name implies -- and I’ve been taking breaks in there trying desperately to make it look like I know what I’m doing,
which is a big step for somebody gym-phobic. (“What if the gymies laugh at me?!”
my anxiety screams).
I, ever the type to
inadvertently make everything as awkward and horrifying to watch as possible,
have been asking more exercise-inclined friends for advice.
Advice such as, “What
the hell do I do with my arms while running?” and “When I’m on the reclining
bike thingy, what the hell do I do with my arms?”. Apparently I’m very
concerned about arm movements.
I was lucky enough to
be born with some seriously fucked up legs that warranted my tibia bones being
essentially reconstructed when I was 9. I had to learn how to walk again, and now activities outside of walking generally come with challenges and chronic pain. I’m
always afraid I still look like my legs are backwards, that maybe I still
seem deformed, or look somehow different, and all of this will be incredibly
and gut-wrenchingly obvious the minute I try to become more mobile than a house
But beginnings have to do just that -- begin. So here we are, trying something new.