Scratch

Sitting in my jeggings in our peaceful, tidy living room. Just made chocolate chip cookies from scratch, with cinnamon, marshmallows and a little bit of cayenne pepper. If you scratch your screen right here you can smell what I'm smelling. I'll wait while you orgasm.

Ok. Whew.

I've had the recipe for cookies etched on my brain since I was 8 years old, when I was the owner/operator of "Bon Mo Desserts". From age 8 to 15 I baked cookies, cakes and pies in our kitchen and sold them, at first to just our neighborhood, then, after years of hard work and cashing in on my cute kid factor, to an area very slightly bigger than our neighborhood. Crazily enough that's how I made enough money to take my mom on vacation to Jamaica, and buy my very first computer, which was gray and kind of lumpy and heavy and took up half of my room.

I was SO proud of that computer. It was the ultimate status symbol for a middle schooler in 2001, unless you weren't me, in which case status would have looked more like a Juicy Couture track suit. The desktop featured a beautifully generic picture of a Caribbean beach, courtesy of Windows 98. I can't for the life of me remember what I did on that computer besides obsessively send instant messages to people I already spent 6 hours a day with.

I've come a long way from typing things into a text box for other people to read.