The calendar from my children's school hangs in our kitchen, right above the cabinet that holds our pet supplies, just to the left of the light switch. I used to look at it every morning when I rose early to feed the dog and cat, checking that I hadn't forgotten about an early dismissal or uniform free day, and that moment of reassurance helped me start the day without panic, without distress, and without the fear of missing something important.
Lately, I haven't even been looking at the calendar at all. What's the point? Every day is a uniform free, early dismissal day. Every day we're prepared for a school day that looks really different but still offers the same sense of routine and predictability. Every day has become a real life version of the "Groundhog Day" movie, but without the laughs from Bill Murray or Andie MacDowell's incredible hair. There's nothing I have to worry about forgetting or missing, and I know we're really fortunate.
But today is different. Today I am missing something. Today I looked at the calendar, and realized it's been exactly four weeks since our world changed. Thursday, March 12, was the last time I dropped my kids off at school. It was my last rainy day pick up. It was the last time I shopped at the grocery store. It was the last time I had lunch with a friend. It was just the last time. A month is a long time to be sequestered in the house, especially with no end in sight, and although I am so very grateful that my family is healthy and safe, and that we're doing our part to keep others safe, I do feel the absence of my regular routine deep in my heart. It's really hitting me today. I know exactly what I'm missing. I am missing the way it used to be.
But I refuse to give in to the melancholy. Instead, we'll come together and create something lovely. We'll hug each other and count our blessings. We'll call our parents and siblings and friends and check in. We'll play games and watch movies and laugh together. We'll practice gratitude. We'll pray. We'll bake cookies.
I had a few bags of butterscotch chips leftover from a baking project I did last fall. Seduced by their caramel color and the notion that baking with them would mean I could just make one batch of something without any chocolate-free alterations, I got to work looking for a recipe. I found one for "Oatmeal Scotchies" that utilized ingredients I had in the pantry, and did a little retooling on it to make a small batch with familiar flavors my family loves.
Cookies to commemorate one month of quarantine
These cookies are so good. Soft and chewy with the sweetness of butterscotch and the warm taste of Autumn spices, they are the perfect companion to a cup of coffee or a glass of milk. And they make the kitchen smell heavenly. If you've got the ingredients, I encourage you to give them a try. They won't take away the sting of all we are missing, but they will remind us that life is still sweet.
Oatmeal Scotchies, My Way (makes 27 cookies)
Ingredients:
3/4 cup all purpose flour
1/2 tsp baking soda
1/4 tsp salt
1/4 tsp ground cinnamon
pinch ground allspice
pinch ground cardamom
pinch ground ginger
1 stick softened butter
1/4 cup granulated sugar
1/2 cup packed brown sugar
1 egg
1 tsp vanilla extract
1 1/2 cup oats (I used Quaker old fashioned, but I think the quick ones will work too)
1 cup butterscotch chips
Method:
Heat oven to 375 (350 convection) and line baking sheets with parchment paper. Combine flour, baking soda, salt and spices in a small bowl and set aside. In the bowl of an electric mixer, cream butter and sugars. Add egg and beat until fluffy. Add in vanilla and mix to combine. Add in flour mixture and mix to combine. Add in oats and mix to combine. Add in chips and mix to combine. Using a cookie scoop (or a tablespoon measure), drop onto lined baking sheet, being sure to leave lots of space between each cookie (they will spread out). I did 9 on a sheet. Bake for 8-10 minutes, less time for softer cookies, more time for crispy cookies. Cool completely on sheet before eating or they will fall apart. Enjoy!
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