It takes balls to execute the degradation of a perfectly good chocolate chip cookie.

Lucky for you...

Everything's bigger in Texas?

It's as if I closed my eyes... opened my cabinet... and pulled out the Holy Grail of sweet & salty.

Toffee and pretzels and chocolate and potato chips.

Oh boy.

We do not disappoint.

The plain ol' chocolate chippers. Delicious, but predictable. Ho to the hum.

You want to kick it up a notch.... but how?

You say, what kind of cookie will I make?

I say, EVERY KIND.

Compost cookies.

The solution to a problem you didn't even know you had.

Want the recipe?

Wipe the drool off your face and click here: Momofuku Compost Cookies, via the Amateur Gourmet.

Sugar, spice & speed on the basepaths.

I didn't tell you... I joined a softball team. I'd Hit That. That's what we're called.

Apparently, we're pretty good. I haven't been to a game.

(I shelled out forty bucks before doing due diligence. All games are Thursday nights. I work Thursday nights. But I do get a tee shirt).

I didn't play softball in high school... or like, ever. (I did sneak into the Disch to take BP a couple of years ago). I'm not particularly coordinated when it comes to bats and balls and things of that nature. (But I can post you up in the paint like a mother).

That said, it's only fitting that I volunteered to be Team Mom.

What I lack in agility, I make up for in baked goods. I won't crank out web gems, but I will bring cookies. And juice boxes. Can't forget the juice boxes.

Does moving the cones count as a moving violation?

Responsible, law-abiding motorist that I am... (I got two parking tickets last month)... I flip my blinker on and inch into traffic as the edge of a nubby tire grazes my front bumper.

I smash the horn.

He flies off, like a rabid bat, on one wheel.

I scream things that rhyme with cheese and rice and shouldn't be screamed on Ash Wednesday.

His scraggly ponytail flaps in the wind, already blocks away.

Did I.....?

Yes, I did. I nearly took out a grown-ass man popping wheelies on a tiny child's bike, complete with handlebar streamers.

Today, I...

Ate a Greek yogurt that expired eleven days ago. Wrote an email that I'll never send. Got choked up watching old-school Whitney videos. Surfed Pinterest. Saw two flurries of snow. Found the perfect red carpet dress. Hand-washed the dishes. Dirtied them up again. Put on a sports bra to increase the likelihood of making it to the gym. Didn't make it to the gym. Made these instead...

Good call by me.

I probably shouldn't take social cues straight from the manufactured lines of a fictional television series.

But this struck me hard.

"Maybe sometimes words are the best things we can give other people."

Before you pull the trigger on the actions speak louder than words argument... let me agree... they do.

Because I'm not talking about words themselves - those are merely a grammatical jumble of letters and syllables and phonetics.

I'm talking about talking. The gift of communication.

A dear friend - my personal Yoda - once told me, less is best. (She was referring to the excessive amount of blush I'd piled on, this day in particular). But it's a mantra I've adopted and carried into nearly every nook of life. With one exception.

Communication.

The transmission of information and expectations and ideas and feelings and fears. The magnet that pulls us together and holds us together. Precious and powerful and liberating.

I say this knowingly...

When given the chance, let 'er rip... let it spew... let your walls fall.

We are not made to hold it in.

You hear me, Alvy Singer?

(P dot S, how great is this fancy Etsy print treasure?)

Guys, have you seen the commercial that suggests buying your Valentine the new Twilight movie will get you laid?

(It aired during the Knicks game. In between Lin's 38 points, 4 rebounds, 7 assists and 2 steals).

Let me tell you something....

It probably won't.

And by probably, I mean it won't.

(Real talk - as much as I loathe jewelry commercials - any woman will tell you, a diamond drops panties quicker than a DVD).

But please, don't you fret.... There's good news to be had.

Romance (is that what we're calling it these days?) is within your reach.

And all it takes is throwing on an apron, breaking out the measuring cups and surrendering your manhood for two-point-five seconds.

If the effort alone doesn't charm the ever-loving pants (figuratively speaking, of course) off your sweetheart, may Cupid's arrow strike me down.

------------------------------------------

Recipes, take it away....

The original heart-shaped Rice Krispie Treats. Plus a few drops of red food coloring.

Chocolate chip peanut butter cookies from How Sweet Eats. With a bag of festive M&Ms thrown in for good measure.

Heart-shaped shortbread cookies from Martha Stewart. Dipped in dark chocolate... and sprinkles.