Fully baked

Let it be known: I will have a cookie jar collection.

I will be a regular ceramophile, not entirely unlike Jack Donaghy via Victor Nightingale. Except, hopefully our kids won't have some "unresolved childhood thing" because I never baked any cookies because I thought they didn't deserve them. Those jars WILL be stocked and my children won't ever feel the need to own a cookie jar with "MOM" emblazoned on the front but think of it as an upside down "WOW."

I hope you people watch 30 Rock.

I don't know when a fascination with cookie jars came about, but I suppose my knack for all-things-owls had something to do with it when I saw Mr. Wise Ol Owl at Anthropologie




This Mr. Owl was far from budget-friendly miscellany, but the jar currently in my possession (reported on in previous post) is a more precious (and thrifty!) replacement.

Of course, owning a cookie jar is a privilege as it means you are the bearer of delicious baked treats.

My grandmother constantly kept cookies in her jar. Sometimes she cheated and snuck in Oreos, but most of the time it was "Memaw's oatmeal cookies" that my grubby paws retrieved.

I know it's a little soon for me to be a grandmother (or is it??) but now seems a good time for me to carry the homemade-oatmeal-cookie torch and keep my jar full and ready at all times.

I made the dough, chilled it, cut it, baked it, and now the cookies, in their adult form, reside in Owlie.






The only problem is, I made three batches. We don't have grandkids and rarely receive visitors.

Please come eat some?

- Posted from my awesome iPhone