Kookies

It seemed that the only time we ever saw each other was at weddings and funerals, so following a family reunion we vowed to stay better connected. Thus was born the idea for an annual cousins’ cookie exchange. It is some 17 years later and we’re still going strong. I attribute this success to two vital ingredients.

First there are the “kookies” (pronounced with a Cookie Monster accent) of the baked goods variety. Bring three dozen whatevers and go home with an assortment of scrumptiousness guaranteed to satisfy any sweet tooth, despite the fact that both dentist and bathroom scale will groan. The delicacies range from puppy chow to no-bakes, from chocolate chips to bishop’s hats, from Russian tea cakes to kolacky … and brownies and muffins and fudge, oh my! Yes, as the years have passed, we’ve evolved from making traditional Christmas cookies to all things confectionary. And this year one of us (who shall remain nameless) even dashed to the bakery en route to said occasion for store-bought cookies after single-mouthedly devouring 36 peanut blossoms intended for the party. But I don’t guiltily dwell on that too much.

More importantly, however, are the “kookies” of the other variety … my crazy and offbeat family. We’re just as diversified as the sugary treats we swap. Single, married, divorced, widowed. Child rearing, munchkin-less, empty-nester. Blonde, brunette, redhead, covering the gray. Boisterous and timid.  Tall, short, skinny, plumper (which is gonna happen when all those cookies are involved!). Big-boobed and flat-chested. (I only divulge this last bit of info since it actually came up in conversation this year!) And some of us, against the advice of our grandmothers, are even mingling with those not Polish, Catholic or white!

My cousins and I are an intrinsic multiplicity joined not only by lineage, but also by love. I am blessed to be tied by heartstrings to this patchwork of personalities.

Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have sugar cookies and a large glass of milk calling my name …