One of my favourite memories of Christmas is baking cookies with my mom. When we were younger, she made a big variety of cookies and squares, all delicious (except the inevitable fruitcake). She even changed the fruitcake into a gumdrop loaf instead and that was good too! I can’t remember helping with any of it except the shortbread cookies, this was a family event, the more the merrier. She made the dough and chilled it, then we rolled it and cut out the cookies. Angels, Santa, reindeer, bells, stars…all the usual suspects. The uncooked dough was delicious and she had to keep us girls under control or we’d eat half of it. We made a lot, and if we made them too soon, she would freeze the baked cookies until closer to the day. (We stole and ate the frozen cookies, too….they’re also delicious)! Somehow a few lonely shortbread cookies made it all the way to Christmas.

As she, and we got older, and her health got worse, she baked less and less, but always the cookies. Even when I moved away, (but not far), I still went home to make the shortbread. We always listened to the Carpenters Christmas Portrait, and there were many other albums as well. We played them on our giant stereo cabinet bench. Juliette’s Christmas, Barbara Streisand, the Mormon Tabernacle Choir, and we had some totally different Scandinavian holiday carols too, for our Norwegian dad, Reidar. Shortbread demanded the Carpenters, and to this day Karen Carpenter’s voice sounds like an angel to me, so pure and beautiful. I have my own copies, cd and iPod now. I make cookies with my daughter and we follow the same traditions, with less stolen raw dough, now that we know that everything is bad for us. Thanks, health reporters.

At some point, I’m not sure how it happened or who started it, but we started including a special limited collection of the cookies. Sorry, mom, but I’m sharing our secret. Our cookies started to become naughty. Santa became anatomically correct, if you know what I mean. He sidled up to an angel and….they came out of the oven “attached”. They hooked up. The reindeer had little chocolate chips stuck to their bottoms. Oops. The angels had nipples. Brown sprinkles stood in as pubic hair. We may have gone too far when we started making the cookies to resemble feminine hygiene products. Used ones. With sprinkles and jam, and a piece of dental floss representing a string. Lots of naughty guilty laughing.  Mom saying,”Susie!” like it was all my fault! Maybe it was, so what? We took pictures of our perverted cookies. One year, the cookies may have been slightly undercooked. We wrapped and packaged a nasty shortbread cookie and mailed it to my sister who lived in Alberta. For funsies, so she would not be left out.  It arrived, a little worse for wear. On top of everything else, mould was now growing on the cookie. She was really grossed out! (It’s the thought that counts).

Now it is time, to put on the music, light the tree, prepare the table, get out the cookie cutters (old and used, thank you very much) and make religiously and politically incorrect shortbread cookies with my now adult daughter. Merry Christmas, bitches!

cookies
Not our cookies
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2 thoughts on “Kleven’s Kinky Kookies

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