Morgan and I are attending a cookie decorating class this evening. We actually set out looking for a cake decorating class, but ’tis the season for cookies (and the class had openings) so that’s what we signed up for.

For the class Morgan and I have to bring over a dozen different things, everything from wax paper and toothpicks to sugar and, of course, cookies. Susan got up extra early this morning to whip up a batch of sugar cookies for us to take to class. The class only covers decorating them. Cooking them is a different class, I guess.

Now, we own a pretty nice mixer. I don’t remember where it came from, but for somebody who only occasionally makes icing and mashed potatoes, it seems pretty nice. That’s why I was surprised this morning to see Susan mixing up cookie dough using this thing.

I’m not sure how old this mixer is, but it comes from a time when appliances were off-brown in color. It was also noticeably having trouble mixing the thick dough, something our regular mixer would have powered right through. So I had to ask, “What gives?”

Susan told me she spent a lot of time as a kid in her grandma’s kitchen, watching her and learning how to cook. When Susan was young (twelve maybe?) both of her grandparents passed away on the same night. Her grandfather died from a heart attack; her grandmother died trying to resuscitate him. Susan said they emptied out their home and sold most of their things in order to pay for the funerals. Susan got to keep two things — a green storage trunk that sits at the end of our bed, and that brown mixer.

It took about an hour to make the required amount of cookies for tonight’s class. Most of them are Christmas shaped but there are a few Star Wars-shaped ones here and there (of course). Tonight Morgan and I will take them to class and decorate them and maybe begin our own Christmas tradition.

And someday when Susan and I are dead Morgan can inherit the mixer. Wow. That took a left turn at the end there.