Oatmeal Cookies

When I was a kid and autumn would arrive, it meant that Mom would start baking. Lots of apple pies, apple sauce, apple everything. We had seven apple trees in the back yard. She also made cookies. My favorite being oatmeal cookies. Big, chewy oatmeal cookies with raisins. So on Friday afternoon, when Mark informed me that he was going to make a batch of oatmeal cookies, I was pretty happy. Although.....

"Really, you're going to bake today?"

"Sure, why not?"

"It's ninety five degrees out. The air conditioners are barely keeping up."

We were experiencing record setting high temperatures in Chicago, possibly because of that climate change hoax Trump keeps talking about. Never the less, Mark got out all the necessary things needed to bake cookies. It's amazing, who knew you needed that much crap to bake oatmeal cookies? A few hours later Mark called me in to clean up the mess. It was a major undertaking, but the reward was worth it. There, sitting on the cooling racks, were about three dozen oatmeal cookies.

"I added dried cherries to the recipe in addition to the raisins."

"Daffs goob" I replied as I jammed one in my mouth, "I neesum milk."

After washing the first one down with half a glass of milk, I continued on eating at least four more. I really do like oatmeal cookies. Unfortunately I had forgotten something. Gas. Oatmeal cookies chock full of raisins and the additional dried cherries, give me gas. Not the occasional burp or little poot out the rear, but non-stop, uncontrollable farting. The dogs cowered under the dining room table in fear of being blamed for the noxious fumes. Mark cried out in disgust, but there was nothing I could do. Finally, by Sunday morning, the fruit fueled gas attack subsided. But, by Sunday afternoon I was once again stuffing my face with cookies. I think I now understand what people mean by addiction.