A Real Life Story of Sweetness Gone Too Far

Once upon a time there was a woman who got an idea in her head that although her family had been making and enjoying graham cracker gingerbread houses for years, that it was time to become a real woman and bake gingerbread from scratch.  A week of being snowed in right around Christmas last year provided the perfect opportunity to try it.  It was fun.  Everyone liked it. 

This Christmas vacation she decided to try again.  Never mind that this year they were not snowed in so instead of leisurely days at home, her days were being spent as a chauffeur, errand runner, housemaid, and really lousy Mario Kart driver. 

As she raced through entire bags of flour and molasses by the quart, she soon realized that the gingerbread baking squeezed in between picking Spencer up, refereeing another quarrel, trying to make dinner, and dropping Cami off, just wasn't as much fun as she had remembered it being.   

By the time the houses were decorated with 8 lbs. of royal icing and an assortment of colorful candies, her entire dining room was caked with a sticky film that brought curse words to the woman's tongue. 

The woman's husband assured her that the extra work was worth it for their increased beauty over the easier graham cracker version, but alas the woman is sure that  although the memory of the hardened icing footprints leading out of the dining room will be slow to fade from her memory, that eventually the memory will fade.  

So  in an effort to prevent the pain of birthing gingerbread from scratch from slipping from her mind in a fog of sugary memories,  the woman decided to write all about it in a public forum along with a vow.  A vow that she will never again judge her own womanliness by whether she uses graham crackers,  homemade gingerbread, or even no gingerbread at all. 

The End.   

 

 

Notice the ornate house front and center in our little village?  That would be the woman's husband's house.  Who knew he was so artistic?


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