Now, when I say teeny, I mean itty-bitty-eensy-weensy-seven-packages-of-cookies-in-a-mixing-bowl small. And it’s not really a bakery. It’s more like, I made cookies, packaged them super-cute with cellophane and blue ribbon, and sold them at the homeschooling group I attend. Two cookies per package, a dollar for a package, I ended up earning five bucks and selling all of my cookies.
In case you’re wondering, the other two packages are accounted for by, A. My amazing marketing scheme, involving a package being cracked open and broken up into tiny samples, and B. The fact that I got hungry and ate a package of my own cookies. Still. That sample idea was genius. There were no buyers, and then I started benevolently forcing samples on people and suddenly requests started pouring in. And these aren’t even my good cookies.
I’m sorry that I didn’t get any pictures, and that this is so short, but I’m, frankly, pretty exhausted and I completely forgot all about the related blog post. Next week, I’ll do something in-depth and well-illustrated, I promise. In the meantime, here, have a blurry and badly-lit picture of my dorky friend Michael and his brother. Two of the others are in the background, but we don’t really care about them.