After eight hours of rolling and dipping more than 600 peanut butter balls, I can barely move. My feet are aching. My knees are hurting. My shoulders are sore.
At this point, I'm wondering how my 70-year-old grandma was ever able to make the thousands of these that she made each Christmas for family, friends and acquaintances. I think 600 is my limit. (It's also my refrigerator's and freezer's limit.)
I was going to take a picture of the disaster that was my kitchen. But by the time I got around to it, I had cleaned up a bit so it wasn't worth it. (Intermittent cleaning is necessary when your kitchen is the size of a shoebox.)
I also tried a new recipe: pistachio and cranberry biscotti. They aren't really my type of treat (I prefer chocolate to fruit in my sweets) so I can't rate them very well, but I thought they were decent.
My plan is to make one more type of cookie tomorrow or this weekend. Then I'll make a few more when I'm in Herrin next week. (There are only so many cookies I can fit in my suitcase and carry-on along with my clothes.)
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