Today began with a trip to OT for more therapy on my thumb. In addition to the ultrasound and massage, I now get an electronic bandage of some sort that forces anti-inflammatory medication into the joint. I have to leave the patch on for several hours and while it's on, I'm not supposed to use the hand too much. That's the perfect time for Wastebook! And for typing this blog post! I'm nearly at the end of the 3 hours when I can take it off and then I'm in the kitchen making "Barb's Balls."
No, not Schweddy Balls, but Barb's Balls. (Although I love this Alec Baldwin skit from 1998. It still cracks me up!) In the past I would make a dozen different kinds of Christmas cookies over the course of several weeks--and I had enough children in the house that they were all consumed in timely fashion. Now that it's only Don and me in the house, and he doesn't eat sugar, I haven't been able to come up with a justification for making all those cookies for ME to eat. And gain about a thousand pounds while doing so! So now, I only make 3 kinds of cookies--and they're all balls! We'll have a few of them on Christmas Eve and the rest will get packed up to go home with Jo and to Milwaukee on Tuesday.
I make Mexican Wedding Cakes (these are not mine, but from the Pillsbury site),
Chocolate Coconut Rum Balls (or "Rumbles" as my son said when he was a child). Sorry, no pix available,
and Buckeyes. Again, this picture is from the All Recipes website, not mine.
Thirty plus years ago, when we had two young children (Johanna had yet to arrive), we lived in a very small town on the Minn/Iowa border and the children chose an elderly couple on the block as their adoptive grandparents, Mr. and Mrs. Boe. They were two of the loveliest people you could ever meet, and they liked having the kids come over and visit. One Christmas, Mrs. Boe gave us a tray of her cookies including what I now know are called Buckeyes. But I didn't know the name back then so we began calling them "Mrs. Boe's Balls" and we still do.
Those are the 3 ball cookies cookies that make up "Barb's Balls," and I'd better get going on this job or we'll have no balls on Christmas Eve.