Yup, all the crazy.
None of them are speaking to me. Not the shaman. The Mage. Not even the priest who is still annoyed she can’t be all three things: shadow, discipline, and holy. (Not my fault!) I have demanded too much, been chasing too many rabbits and wasting hours wishing to ride dragons.
But. There was hope in a box. (There always is, isn’t there?)
The box arrived yesterday, safe and sound. It cost a fortune to air ship it, probably triple what the contents cost, so that tells you it’s not the the money, it’s about friendship.
This is a picture of how I ripped into the cookies like a crazed wallaby after a three-day hunger strike:
One cookie did drop on the floor, and I used the 3-second rule to save it from an ignominious ending.
So not only were there Arnott’s Chocolate Ripple cookies (pro-tip: put strawberry ice-cream on them and make mini ice cream sandwiches OMGOMGOMGOOMG I am a genius), but Tim Tam cookies as well. They were judged “a bit too strong” for CD Rogue’s palette, but I told him to get his fat paws OFF MY COOKIES. No, I just said, “Oh, well these are flavors you’re just not used to,” and quietly slid the rest away from him. The box included a pouch with the label “Possum Pals” on the outside and filled with some mysterious shavings, which may be Eucalyptus bark, which I’m pretty sure I’m supposed to throw over a bonfire on Midsummer’s Night, dancing naked in the backyard while chanting a dream-time song, while CD Rogue plays the didjeridoo. Hilarity ensues.
Hey, there are some pretty evil spirits floating around now, and I’ll try anything.
Maybe I’ll just stick with strawberry ice cream and the Ripples.