Anyone who knows me knows of my great obsession with cookies. Without fail I have at least two cookies a day and if there is any form of cookie dough in reaching distance it will be consumed by me within five minutes. Its a problem…but hey, I could have worse addictions….
My love of consuming cookies is only topped by one thing…my love of baking cookies for other people. It is my single goal in life to have my future children say “My mom makes the best cookies…” Until I conceive my own fan club, I choose to practice on lil mo. I told Nonna that I would be baking cookies for lil mo this weekend to send to her in college. I have to give warning to Nonna anytime I bake because she gets extreme anxiety when I am in her kitchen. No joke, she paces back and forth until the very last dish is cleaned. Anyhow, as I was describing to her what I was going to make, Nonna interrupted me and asked me if I was going to send these cookies to Lauren. I responded in the affirmative as I do not intend to drive 8 hours to NC to drop off some freshly baked goodies.
Nonna then turned to me and asked with way too much excitement for a friday night: “you thinkin I can trow some chicken in there?”
Nonna: Lauren keepin askin me if I can make her chicken parmigiana. I feel so bad for that little thing because the food is so bad there and I want to feed her.
Me: Nonna. You are not dumb. You know we can’t send chicken via US Postal Service.
Nonna: No I thinkin I packin it really nice and I put in some ice-a box.
Me: Nonna, a package is not like a “cooler” you can’t just put chicken parm in the mailbox and ask the mailman to bring it to Lauren before it gets cold.
Nonna: I thinkin I going to ask the mail man.
Me: You are joking right?
Nonna: No, honey (starts to cry), I just want to feed my little girl.
Me: I am feeding her…with cookies.
Nonna: Maybe I send some stromboli?
Me: Nonna…you cant send MEAT in the mail.
Nonna: Then how they sendin those steaks I see on the tv in the mail. You telling me thats not the truth.
Me: (Damnit Omaha…) No, they send it in dry ice…and its probably regulated.
Nonna: Okay. Then I tellin your father to make me some dryin ice from work and we send it to her.
Me: And then Lauren will open the package and her hands will burn off because she doesnt have the gloves to open dry ice.
Nonna: So, I sending her gloves from the dollar store.
Me: This is ridiculous.
Nonna: You takin all the fun off on me.
As much as I really hate to take the fun off Nonna…and as much as the world would really like mail order chicken parm…I think that is one luxury we all must come home for…though…we really could make a killing.