I know, I know. Wow. Very interesting Brent. Thrilling. But lets take a minute and really examine what this photo means. First of all, in this cookie dough you’ll find vanilla, brown sugar and Nestle milk chocolate morsels, none of which you can find easily, if at all, in Armenia. This is a cookie dough that brought together ingredients from multiple continents. This is a cookie dough prompted by caring hands back in the motherland. This is a cookie dough whose creation was so perfectly timed that it may very well have contributed to the continuation of my Peace Corps service. Without this cookie dough I might have packed it all up and returned home to start a completely different path, a different life altogether. So, we can say, this is a cookie dough WHICH SAVED MY LIFE, or life as I have come to know it. **moment of reflection in which I have a powerful, gustatory memory wave over me; I mentally roll some cookie dough around on my tongue.**
In other news: Spring has come early. I have never been more excited about a season in my life. Snow has melted. I got up at nine this morning and cleaned everything. I pulled up the lumpy wool mattress and took them to the sun. I swept and mopped. I hand washed all my sheets. I scrubbed encrusted cat poop from under the cat pan. I beat the rugs with one of these. I did it all under the rays of this incredible sun. After six hours of cleaning, I played nardi with the Landlord, scarffed on Landlady’s fresh baked bread, and laid out in the sun with the Landcouple’s tiny daughters until we’d soaked up enough energy to pull out some pots and have a drum circle.
Spring, cookie dough, and a drum circle. Looks like that’s the cure for me.