Subliminal messages
Subliminal messages are used to trick our minds to unconsciously think of something without much thought. Sometimes it’s immediate, and other times it takes a while to process.
**
The conversation starts innocently enough. A little chatter about our day, what we did, what we’re planning to do - nothing out of the ordinary.
Then, the talk verges into another direction.
“I need a rolling pin,” says G, out of the blue. “I can’t find a rolling pin.”
“Why do you need a rolling pin?” I ask. Is there an intruder in the house?
“I’m baking cookies and I need a rolling pin...” the voice trails off.
This goes on for a minute while G looks for a rolling pin. Although G has a good reason for baking at 10 p.m. (an ungodly hour for hovering around the stove), I can’t think of another reason to remove the mixer from the cabinet, pull out some sugar, flour, milk and eggs … unless I’m friggin’ hungry.
And when it comes to food, subliminal messages are everywhere; and they're all about cookies.
Walking around my place, I’m constantly reminded of this. The old, dark-stained cabinets in the kitchen remind me of chocolate chips. The peeling paint on the walls is the colour of batter. The rocky foundation is similar to the crumbling sweetness of a cookie when it’s broken in half. Little hints here and there.
Hmmm.
Maybe I shouldn’t bake, but renovate.
At 10:30 p.m., I start to make cookies. After all the preparations, the dough is placed in the oven. I’m giddy because in 17-20 minutes, I’ll have cookies.
The fragrant smell permeates several rooms. I walk by the oven several times to make sure they haven’t burned. To have one right now is beyond comprehension.
Ding.
They're done! Sweet Jesus, they're done!
The trays are removed and the cookies cool (on the trays) for a few minutes. After that, they’re placed on paper towels - I don’t have cooling racks - to help soak up any excess fat.
A few of them don’t make it to the paper towels, though: two are gone in a few minutes, and by midnight, four would have disappeared.
Next time I chat with G, I have to make sure we talk about exercise.
**
The conversation starts innocently enough. A little chatter about our day, what we did, what we’re planning to do - nothing out of the ordinary.
Then, the talk verges into another direction.
“I need a rolling pin,” says G, out of the blue. “I can’t find a rolling pin.”
“Why do you need a rolling pin?” I ask. Is there an intruder in the house?
“I’m baking cookies and I need a rolling pin...” the voice trails off.
This goes on for a minute while G looks for a rolling pin. Although G has a good reason for baking at 10 p.m. (an ungodly hour for hovering around the stove), I can’t think of another reason to remove the mixer from the cabinet, pull out some sugar, flour, milk and eggs … unless I’m friggin’ hungry.
And when it comes to food, subliminal messages are everywhere; and they're all about cookies.
Walking around my place, I’m constantly reminded of this. The old, dark-stained cabinets in the kitchen remind me of chocolate chips. The peeling paint on the walls is the colour of batter. The rocky foundation is similar to the crumbling sweetness of a cookie when it’s broken in half. Little hints here and there.
Hmmm.
Maybe I shouldn’t bake, but renovate.
At 10:30 p.m., I start to make cookies. After all the preparations, the dough is placed in the oven. I’m giddy because in 17-20 minutes, I’ll have cookies.
The fragrant smell permeates several rooms. I walk by the oven several times to make sure they haven’t burned. To have one right now is beyond comprehension.
Ding.
They're done! Sweet Jesus, they're done!
The trays are removed and the cookies cool (on the trays) for a few minutes. After that, they’re placed on paper towels - I don’t have cooling racks - to help soak up any excess fat.
A few of them don’t make it to the paper towels, though: two are gone in a few minutes, and by midnight, four would have disappeared.
Next time I chat with G, I have to make sure we talk about exercise.
Authored by S at 12:00 am
6 Comments:
I can almost smell them from here. Mmmmm.
I want a cookie right now.
Yes. We'd all like to taste your cookies.
Looks like I'm gonna have to find me a cookie store on the way home. Drool.
(And in answer to your question, Yes, I live in Canadia. Montreal to be precise.)
I just ate 3 chocolate chip Macadamia nut, Warm oozy delicious!!
wow... i know those were just about chocolate chips... but you're so freakin' good with words that I felt I was reading some profoud, revelation. I loved it :)
Mahalo,
Sahar.
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