As the WHERE THE MOUNTAIN MEETS THE MOON deadline closes in, I seem unable to escape my bad habits. I've tried to get on the bike every couple of days and I've eaten so many blueberries (instead of candied ginger) that my blood must be blue hued. But the other day, maybe because I have been painting so many moon scenes I began to crave half-moon cookies:
These are the cookies that I ate in my childhood, bought at the local bakery. Every time my sisters and I return to our childhood home we always indulge in these baked treats, much to the chagrin of our significant others. Full of Crisco and corn syrup, they don't rank high on a gourmet's palate--however mixed with nostalgia, they are delectable.
And they are especially mouth-watering in contemplation. Throughout my entire painting of this picture, I kept thinking about them. You can have one after you finish this, I told myself.
But it was not meant to be. Half-moon cookies are surprisingly difficult to find in my adult locale. Instead, I satisfied myself with a cannoli (which was very good) and the mental promise that once I finish all the paintings I would bake my own half moon cookies. Hey, once I'm finished, you can all have one!