My sprained ankle is just about well, and my mother is recovering from her appendectomy. I think it was just a ploy to squeeze as many get-well gingersnaps as possible from her granddaughters.
Gingersnaps are cookies I'd just as soon do without. I don't know why. I like ginger in Chinese dishes, I love gingerale and I like bread-gingerbread soft in a loaf spread with hard sauce. If I eat a gingersnap, I'm always like, "Ooooh! This is TASTY!" Maybe it's a Hansel and Gretel thing. Maybe, somewhere in my subconscious, I'm like, "Gingerbread is a construction material."
Which reminds me of when my #4 daughter was wee. She was going through a phase of telling me I was mean whenever I denied her her way in anything. Then we watched a live-action Hansel and Gretel, where the kids were flattered and coaxed by the kindly old lady in the gingerbread house and then, when they wouldn't come in, she turned into a furniture-chewing evil screaming hag. Daughter turned to me with big eyes and said, "Now THAT'S a mean mommie!"
Christmas would be the perfect time for a poisoning, to bring myself back on topic. People feel obliged to eat all manner of things they don't usually eat, with tastes they may think odd, just because somebody hands them a plate and beams, "This is a tradition in my family. I'm very proud of them. It's my grand-mother's recipe."
Writing--a little bit grand, a little bit ghastly.
Enjoy the upcoming Solstice, and stay warm and well.