Cookies

No, not like the tasty kind--oatmeal and sugar and chocolate.  I'm talking about mud cookies made by "somebody's" boots.  Not mine. Not MM's.  "Somebody's." 

You see, we have what my sister-in-law called menahunies.  (She lived in Hawaii.)  Menahunies sneak in and wreak all manner of havoc on neat-to-the-pin households (which mine is not) and often--especially this time of year-- leave behind little brown shapes as calling cards that tell of their visit.  They are the "somebodies" who press out these mud cookies in the most surprising places.  Menahunies laugh --almost out loud--when they hear us say, "It wasn't me."  "Nope, me neither." 

This marks the beginning of the season when I find these cute little cookies everywhere.  Mostly inside, although they are also found in considerable numbers on our wraparound porch. They're on the stairs, on the kitchen floor. under the table, upstairs on the rug...so far, I haven't found one in bed, but I fully expect to one of the these days.  Who presses out these little miracles, anyway?  They seem to appear out of nowhere.  Oh, it's those dratted menahunies at it again!

The cookies are criminally fragile.  When I stoop to pick one up, it usually breaks apart into at least another dozen pieces which require a broom. 

Occasionally, though, MM will admit to being the culprit.  I've been training him for 43 years.  (After that big an investment in time, divorce is never an option!)  So, from time to time, he will say, "Sorry about those cookies, honey."  Even more amazing is when he retrieves the dustpan and brush and proceeds to sweep them up!  What a guy!

As for the menahunies, there's a lot more winter left until The Great Thaw, and I'm watching out for them hoping to catch them in the act!