Throwback Thursday

 Ah, so many years ago, when I was a wee lad, mama bundled me up and took me to Petco to have my photo taken with Santa. This was my first year of life, I was only a few months old, and yet the promise of treats was too great a temptation to resist. And so we arrived at Petco with several other doggies and their owners, waiting for the grand arrival of Petco Santa. Would he arrive in a sleigh with eight mighty reindeer? This was LA, he could have arrived in a stretch limo with an entourage. We all waited, and waited, and waited. No Santa (there was a rumor that he was drunk - at 10AM on Sunday when he was supposed to be Santa-ing). The poor employees watched us waiting, many dogs in their Xmas finery, for our chance to tell Santa what we wanted for Xmas while simultaneously trying not to puke in his lap or scratch his eyes out. I'd like to think that they took pity on us, but the truth was probably more like their manager picking on the employee with the least seniority (otherwise known as "the new guy"), handing him a full Santa outfit-in-a-bag, and anointing him Santa. Out he strode, from the employee-only back room, the cheap polyester chafing his crotch and scratching his face (I know this because he kept saying it over and over). There would be only one shot, one chance to catch the gravity of the moment, and all the finery of the holiday season.

And BAM.  Nailed it.  SUPERMODEL.

Love,

Bogart

Baking for Bogie (Woo-Hoo, RECIPES!)

Sometimes mama gets it SO DAMN RIGHT.

Normally I wouldn't let her anywhere near the stove, she's just not terribly domestically-inclined, and has a bad habit of setting off smoke alarms with her, ahem, "cooking".  Apparently, she bought "ingredients" to make some cookies for me awhile ago, and they have been taunting her ever since.  Now "ingredients" to her are usually a mishmash of things that make no sense together, don't taste good together, and get thrown away in disgust after sitting for an inordinate amount of time in the refrigerator taking up valuable real estate that could be filled with normal, good-tasting food that someone else made.  BUT TODAY WAS DIFFERENT, today she decided that SHE HAD HAD ENOUGH.

And so 'a baking she went.  Brought out all of her "ingredients" and hoped for the best.  Today's cookies brought to you mostly by the fine ingredients courtesy of Trader Joe's, with a quick run to the ShopRite as well.  Your mission, should you choose to accept it (and make these delicious cookies) is:  Bob's Red Mill Oat Flour (approx 1 cup), TJ's quick-cook oatmeal (approx. .5 cup), TJ's flaxseed with blueberry (approx. 1 heaping tablespoon), 1 jar of Gerber Chicken baby food, and enough rice milk to make a thick dough.  Don't sweat the exact ratios, if mama can do it, ANYONE CAN.  Roll it out thinly (it should be tough but sticky), cut into amusing shapes.  Heat the oven to 325, cook 'em for about 10-15 minutes, then let 'em sit in the oven as it cools down.  Then you should put on any and all protective gear that you own, especially for your hands and arms, because this is what you will see coming at you:

Yes, mama made one Airedale-shaped one for me.  She just happens to have an Airedale-shaped cookie cutter (she just happens to have Airedale-shaped everything, oh and cat-shaped everything too).  Don't judge us.

Once the initial excitement is over (and you have counted all of your fingers to be sure that you still have 10 - or however many you had when this all started), then the little hearts can come out.

I watched mama the entire time - these were EASY to make.  Yes, she did set off the smoke alarm twice (but that's normal around here whenever she is near the stove so I wouldn't hold it against her).  But they are DELICIOUS and have no crap in them.  It wasn't easy for either of us to stop feeding them to me.  I am a picky gourmand, and usually would sniff at a new treat before showing it the tail.  BUT NOT THESE.  Did I get a few too many?  Yup.  Did mama cry a little knowing that she had actually made my cookies and that I loved 'em?  Sure.  Did we remember to put them into a glass container with a top so that they will stay fresh until I get a chance to eat them all?  You betcha.

Love,

Bogart