It's a cookie driven transportation device!

I'm sure you've experienced that moment at least once in your life. You know, when you open a box of crayons or a tub of playdoh and you're transported back in time to your first day of kindergarten.

Or you smell a salami sandwich and you remember sitting in the deli eating 63 salami sandwiches you had when you were pregnant with your 20 year old.

Oh. That was just me then?

It happened the other day again. We were at the grocery store, and Gene was hungry. This is usually a big tactical error. He bought some crackers and chips. He has this salty "thing" going on - I'm surprised he doesn't have high blood pressure.

In the same aisle as the crackers, you will find the cookies and he excitedly shows me a big package of cookies.

"They're only a dollar!"

"Uh, Well, ok then."

We get home, put away the groceries and Tanner opens the package. I take in that deep breath of cookie preservatives and that's when it hits me... I'm transported back in time to my grandma's kitchen.

She didn't want to spend a fortune on cookies of all things, Grandma was thrifty if nothing else. Which for the record she was more than "nothing else". This is a woman that was newly divorced when women didn't do that. She didn't subscribe to Better Homes and Gardens, she subscribed to Popular Mechanics. She built my barbie doll furniture out of bits of paneling, upholstery fabric and clothespins (I still have them!!). She completely remodeled her home from a complete disaster, to a three bedroom little sweet place.

Don't get me wrong, she could do some pretty cool girl stuff too. I still have a huge pile of quilts she made for me. She loved dolls and stuffed animals, and always had one or two in her living room.

Before I started school, well, and after too (we only had half day kindergarten back then), Grandma was my other mom. She babysat me as my siblings were off in school, and mom was off at work.

In her kitchen she had one of these:

Inside was always some of these thrifty cookies. She would let me have one or two with my lunch. When my cousins came to visit in the summer, my slightly elder cousin Dianna taught me how to make ice cream sandwiches out of them.

Which for the record, they are too hard for that.

This is not my grandma's actually Kookie Kettle. My uncle has that one. It had so many fond memories of my grandma, that I found one in an antique store, and Gene bought it for me for Christmas a couple years ago. It sits on top of my cabinets, right next to the cookie jar that mom gave me. It sat on her counter for many years, and it was the first Christmas present dad ever gave her.

Anyway, these cookies might not be fancy or spendy, but they were still good in other ways. So many great memories of a childhood (slightly) long passed.

My grandma, yep, she smells like hard, cheap cookies. If you think about it, that's pretty awesome, she could, after all, smell like hard, cheap liquor.

That's not so good.


PS - Don't think this is a "Pepper" story. Grandma is alive and kicking (probably pretty hard) in a nursing home in Iowa. She has dementia and has a hard time remembering me when she sees me. However, she does think she owns the nursing home, and that the employees are her staff.

That's exactly how I wanna go out, smelling like hard, cheap cookies, living in a mansion with 60 bedrooms and a staff of 20 employees.