When I was a kid, my grandparents took us on road trips each summer. One year we went to visit cousin Jim and Judy in McCall, Idaho. They had a cool house with a stream in their backyard. They had Nickelodeon and I got to watch Inspector Gadget for the first time. Jim had a plane and let my sister Jaime fly it. On Sunday after church, Judy let us help make cookies. We made a huge batch with not just chocolate chips, but also peanut butter chips and butterscotch chips. It was an unheard of luxury.
I moved out of my parents' house 10 years ago this week to live on my own. One of the silly goals I'd made (thanks to cousin Judy) was to have all three kinds of chips in my own kitchen - chocolate, PB, and butterscotch. With my $40/monthly grocery budget, it took a few months before I could afford this. I loved baking cookies in my little apartment. The only spot where I really had room to plug in the mixer and have a large bowl was on the floor in the doorway between the kitchen and dining room. So I mixed cookie dough on the floor.
Wherever I've lived, it never feels like home to me until I bake something. When I need a pick-me-up, I bake a ton of cookies and go to church with a filled giant container, handing them out to anyone who walks by. It's really a selfish thing to do. It makes me feel good. People are happy to see me. They thank me. I feel loved and find happiness in feeding others something tasty that I made.
To celebrate the 10-year anniversary of living on my own, I bought butterscotch chips and made multi-chip cookies with all three kinds of baking chips. I put them in a big bowl and went to church, happily distributing tastiness.