Monday, June 1, 2009

If I Had a Gingerbread Hammer

I overdid it at yoga class on Saturday. It all looked so simple. Mountain Pose, Downward Facing Dog, Forward bends supported by the wall.  But, Oh the minor adjustments! On Sunday my legs ached. I biked to the gym. I swam half a mile. But I couldn't make myself go to the weight room or another yoga class afterward. I biked home in desperate need of comfort food. Gingerbread cookies.  I have an ever growing collection of cookie cutters. Recently I picked up some tool-shaped cutters. A hammer, pliers, and a socket wrench.  One of my oldest cutters is a crescent moon. Since I love the giddy song "We Like the Moon" at http://www.rathergood.com/moon_song I had to use the moon. Long ago, I adapted the recipe to whole wheat flour, blackstrap molasses, 2/3 of the recommended amount of sugar. These cookies are as healthy as you can get and still call it a cookie. One recipe makes 4 cookie sheetfuls. My oven holds 2 sheets. The drill is start a load of laundry, roll out the cookies. Hang up the laundry while cookies are in the oven. Multi-tasking is a sure way to get that sense of accomplishment, which is just as important as comfort foods when I'm feeling achy.
In fact, that combination -- a sense of accomplishment and comfort food is a high. When the cookies were finally cool enough to eat, I grabbed a hammer and bit off the tong end. "If I had a hammer, I'd bite it in the kitchen. I'd bite it on the stairway, all over this house. It's a hammer of ginger. It's a hammer of whole wheat. It's a hammer of silliness between my laundry and my oven. All all over this house."
I never did understand the original words to this song.  "I'd hammer out justice" sounds like I'd get rid of justice, or maybe I'd exact vengeance. Either way it doesn't sound like a good thing. It's a song from the 40's that got new life in the 60's along with a bunch of other strange songs like one condemning love as being like a lemon impossible to eat, and another praising gambling one's last dollar on a horse named stewball. This kind of free-association is the key to a writer's high. For all of you who ask, "Where do you get your ideas?" That's it.  Hurray for gingerbread hammers!

No comments:

Post a Comment