Christmas

I am not going to say I am a total Scrooge, but I do hate Christmas! All that false cheer and goodwill to all. As Scrooge says, "Since you ask me what I wish, gentlemen, that is my answer. I don't make merry myself at Christmas and I can't afford to make idle people merry." Families that really can't stand each other who get together to spend money they can't afford on presents no one needs. I mean, it is fine for kids, but grown adults (or anyone over the age of 9 really) should be too sensible for Christmas. Thank goodness Mom is going to spend Christmas this year with her cousins in California. I couldn't have handled all that maternal guilt and judgement.

The 57th Annual Dear Santa Project has been a postal success though. 20 000 children have had their Christmas dreams made into reality. For a while there, I thought that I had done my part for the USPS, but it turns out I may have ruined some child's life. I thought that I had helped by going in with Rita on a cooking set for a budding chef. In fact, Rita, and her extraordinary cooking …adventures… might cause a hopeful young Julia Childs to turn away from their passion before they really had a chance.

Rita is many things. I love Rita. She is clever, beautiful, loyal, compassionate, dedicated and just about the most wonderful person I have ever met. I love her. I hope we will always be friends. But Rita has a dark secret. Rita's beautiful face hides a serious flaw – Rita is the world's worst cook. I mean, normal food like tacos and lasagne she is fine at, but the minute she tries to bake anything, it is nothing short of a culinary horror story. Little did I know, that ever helpful and wonderful Rita added one of her Christmas cookie recipes to our cookware gift. Here it is, in all of its condiment glory – Rita's recipe for Chocolate Ginger Snap Cookies with Mustard and Blue Cheese Frosting.

Rita's Chocolate Ginger Snap Cookies

1/2 cup butter,

1/2 cup packed brown sugar

1/2 cup molasses

2 teaspoons minced fresh ginger

1-1/2 cups plain flour

1 tablespoon cocoa

1-1/4 teaspoons ground ginger

1 teaspoon ground cinnamon

1/4 teaspoon ground nutmeg

1/4 teaspoon ground cloves

Any other spices you favour. Peppermint adds freshness, and chilli adds a kick.

200 g chopped cooking chocolate

1/3 cup raw sugar

Directions:

Cream butter and brown sugar until light and fluffy. 10 minutes should do it.

Beat in molasses and fresh ginger.

Combine dry ingredients and mix well. Add to the wet mixture.

Last add chocolate and the let sit in the refrigerator overnight until really hard.

Shape dough into balls.

Roll in sugar.

Place on greased baking sheets.

Bake at 180 degrees Celsius until the cookies crack.

Allow to cool and then add mustard and blue cheese frosting.

Frosting:

1/2 cup unsalted butter, softened

½ cup blue cheese, crumbled

3 cups of icing sugar

1 tablespoon of milk

Vanilla

Pinch salt

2 teaspoons of mustard powder

Beat butter and sugar.

Then add blue cheese. Beat well

Add vanilla.

Add dry ingredients and then milk. (you may need more milk)

Dip cool cookies in the mixture.

Allow cookies to cool.

For extra kick, chop up salted pretzels and sprinkle on top of the cookies.

Yum!

I have no words. Wait, yes, I do… antacid.

But back to the Dear Santa Project. This has brought about a change to the Denver Main Branch. Spearheading the six-week marathon has been trouble-shooter Jordan Marley. Postal gossip is pretty light on this guy. No one knows where he is from, or how he operates. He certainly is interested in 'Team O'Toole' and the DLO today though. What did he call Oliver, a paragon of postal virtue? Ha! That is about right. Oddly though, he (Jordan, obviously not Oliver) asked me to dance with him at the ball. I am not sure how I feel about that to be honest. I kind of only imagine dancing with Oliver. Maybe I should dance with Jordan – I mean there is clearly no point saving my dance card for Oliver O'Toole. Married and dance-opposed Oliver O'Toole.

Like I said diary, I don't like Christmas, but I do love Christmas bonuses, Christmas parties and the chance for Christmas party salon dates with Rita. She really is the most naïve person I have ever net. I couldn't resist teasing her a little bit about mistletoe and potential Christmas kisses. I wonder, am I so invested in her potential relationship with Norman because I am destined to remain single? I asked her about their story. She told me that they connected over a head clash during a previous holiday rush. Do they have a relationship or residual concussion? Whatever, I did convince Rita to jazz up her Christmas wardrobe, with a gorgeous short black sequin and lace number. She looks so beautiful in it. Or she would if she didn't look so uncomfortable. What did I call it? Curling Norman's cummerbund? This dress was certainly curl-inducing.

Salon visit done, Rita and I made our way to the Christmas Ball at precisely 7:00p.m. She looked amazing! We saw Norman and Oliver as we arrived (I absolutely should not comment on how good my supervisor looks in a tux right?) but before I could join them, Jordan asked me to join him on the dance floor. I don't even know where he came from, t was as if he just materialised before me. Dancing with Jordan was fun. At first, he was pretty hopeless, and I felt sorry for him, so I tried to show him some of the steps I remembered from the abandoned dance showcase. He seemed to be improving, but then we were interrupted. A very annoyed Oliver O'Toole cut in on our dance. What decade does the man live in?

Wow, you would have thought that I was Mata Hari or something, giving away state secrets rather than someone trying to show a nice guy some pretty basic dance moves. Oliver was furious! If I didn't know better, I would think he was jealous. But Oliver O'Toole, staid, proper, married Oliver O'Toole could not possibly be jealous. That would mean that he would have to feel something for me, and we know that is not the case. What did ne call me? A thief? That I didn't have the right to share his dance moves with Jordan? What on earth was his problem? I will say though, angry Oliver O'Toole is much more confident as a dancer. Snark makes him forget propriety and safe distances. It makes him bossier. Dancing disagreements possibly have an effect on me too. I think I may have been a little bit of a show-off when he dipped me. I mean I am pretty sure that the way I raised my leg as I came out of that dip was annoyance induced showing-off. It was the dancefloor equivalent of poking tongues. Eventually that very weird dance ended, and we returned to our table where I attempted to find my equilibrium in red wine, and took out my feelings on some innocent surf and turf.

Then diary, the worst disaster of the night (who really knows though, there were so many) happened. My necklace, my talisman… my last link to a normal happy family was missing. Thank goodness Oliver could describe it in such detail to Jordan as he joined our search. ( I refuse to consider how he had committed my necklace to memory so comprehensively.) I spoke the truth when I told Oliver I could not replace it. That life was shattered long ago.

Thank goodness Jordan found my necklace. I don't know how I came to lose it, or how he came to be the one to find it, but at least I had it back in my possession. Of course, it led to the whole embarrassment was to why I was called Crackers. Yes, my parents were not anywhere near as hilarious as they thought they were. Crackers is a ridiculous name to call someone who loved eating saltines as a child. (I may still occasionally eat more than I should as an adult, who can tell?) Great, now everyone knows I had a stupid nickname as a child. I swear, if any of them call me that, I will not be held responsible. Regardless, gratitude caused me to invite Jordan to join us. I am pretty sure that Oliver was not happy. I am pretty sure that I didn't care. Jordan found my necklace, so I had to be nice to him. Which led to the 'Battle of the Christmas Word Nerds'. Sometimes, grown men can act like they are seven. Yes Oliver O'Toole, I mean you.

Diary there is so much more to this day, but I need to sleep. I will continue this Yuletide saga tomorrow.