Having undergone a career change from an editor-in-chief to a caterer/editor/automotive-writer/jack-of-all-trades, my daily list of to do's has also changed. For the past few days I've been on a search for a gingerbread man cookie cutter so I can make some Sweet Transvestite cookies. Hey, it's that time of year.
You'd think a classic gingerbread man cookie cutter would be one of the easiest things to find in Northern Virginia's vast array of gourmet cooking outlets, department stores and craft centers. You'd be wrong. I found angels out the wazoo, plus Texas, dinosaurs, a rhinoceros and a ballet dancer. But no gingerbread man with his happy little head and stunted little legs, despite trips to every store within driving distance. I found one on the Web -- in order to get it delivered to my house by the time I needed it, it would cost $45 for shipping a $3 piece of shaped tin.
Crap, for $20 more in gas I could drive to my sister's house in Kentucky and borrow hers.
Last night, however, Cookie Monster smiled upon me during a repeat trip to Sur la Table where, under a pile of holiday knick-knacks, a gingerbread man lurked. Filled with joy, I can now move forward in determining just how high his fishnet stockings should be.
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