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991123 Tuesday "Shut up," he explained...(courtesy of Ring Lardner?) |
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I first found this recipe in the spring, and never had a chance to try it because I lost it. I received it from Danielle B., a former student. When she prepared these chocolate chips, they were the best I'd ever had. (Sorry, Mom. Yours are great too, but...) So until I organize a place to park items like this recipe, this one is going up here where I can find it. Danielle's Chocolate-Chip Cookies Ingredients
Preparation Instructions
This is not a cookie low in fat. Danielle advises that shortening (preferably butter-flavored) works better in this recipe than either butter or margarine. She also stresses the need for good creaming of the shortening with the sugars and other ingredients. These ingredients don't seem to differ from other chocolate-chip cookie recipes, so I'd recommend following her advice and giving your forearms a workout. Let me continue the tale of the adolescents, Bob and Carly. We were 17 and 16, or maybe 16 and 15 -- who knows. We were attending a week-long UPY retreat on the campus of Trinity University in San Antonio. On a soft, summer night under a sweeping, starlit Texas night, we stood side by side on a balcony overlooking the lights of the campus and the city, still one of my favorite cities on the planet. I turned. She turned. We embraced. We gazed. We found consent. Our lips met. Sweet, gentle, soft. Dry. We drew back, breathed, smiled. We kissed again. I pressed and probed in the accustomed manner. She withdrew. It was one of those every-fiber-of-my-being-is-alive moments that teenagers experience every sixty seconds between meals. I waited. I listened above the hum of the city and the cicadas and I waited again. Still holding me close, soft and warm as the summer night, she whispered, "Keep your property to yourself." I swallowed. "Arruummhh?" I queried cogently. "Keep your property to yourself," she repeated, still gently. "????" asked my eyes and brows. "Your tongue?" she clarified, using a rising inflection long before it became a cliche. I turned away. In the suave way of adolescent males, I yawned, checked my breath, and gazed off into the middle distance toward Mexico, Bolivia, Argentina, points south, anywhere but here now. More tomorrow. Life intervenes. But I will close by saying that in the relating of my personal religious journey to the fellowship on November 7th, I almost included this tale. Taylor had another basketball game tonight, a 27-14 victory in which he scored six points, grabbed six rebounds, and made no turnovers. The child continues to amaze me. He's transforming me into a sports dad. On his way to a water fountain during the half, he ran by the bleachers where I sat with his brother Owen, his mother, and his maternal grandmother and great-grandmother. He had been shooting from a little beyond his range, and hadn't been scoring. I told him that if he found himself playing point guard again, that the lane would be open to him if he got down court soon enough. Sure enough, the next time he was point guard, he hustled down court, stopped and popped a swish from the free-throw line, and broke into a grin. The kid is supremely coachable, talented, and delightful. He also hit the buzzer shot off a rebound at the end of the game. Today was turkey day at the boys' elementary school. All our boys have had the same two teachers for second and third grade. And since Joshua was in second grade, ten years ago now, Jami has always provided the turkey for the Thanksgiving feast that the two classrooms share. Being aware of this, Taylor's teacher's husband had suggested to his wife (uhm, that would be Taylor's teacher if you lost track) that she should contact the local paper and have the event covered in the paper. You can do that in a small town, and she did. I've linked to the article through the photo in the sidebar. The upshot of these comments is that the story contained no mention of Jami (other than "a parent") and no mugshot of my child, and did not even mention our little jewel, but did mention (and quote his best friend, hyphenated Ben. The Manhattan Mercury, a reputable source of information... |
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Nancy of Perforated Lines has added a search window to her site that she obtained from atomz.com. She mentions it in her November 22 entry.
I enjoyed the November 22 entry by Steve of Late Night Snacks about his journaling experience. | ||
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