There is a small part of me (meaning every fiber of my being) that wants to stomp my feet, curl my hands into fists, HISS, levitate, and blow steam from my pores. Everyone, just reflect on that image for a second.
It's not because I am home . . . I love my home. It's because I am no longer surrounded by "my people", you know, those "cookie people" who were either complete strangers or celebrities to me five days ago, but without whom I now can't live. If CookieCon isn't a drug that should have addiction warnings, I'm not sure what is.
Every cookier (at least this one) dreams of walking into a decorating space with stacks of baked and cooled cookies, readymade royal icing (in every color known to man), stencils, airbrushes, paints, brushes, wafer paper, fondant with limitless molds, tubs of embellishments, luster dust, sugar lace . . . and, critically, very limited cleanup expectations. Throw in experts in each medium who are ready, able, and HAPPY to teach and help with any questions or icing malfunctions that pop up. For eight hours on Saturday, the final day of CookieCon, this was every CookieCon attendee's reality during open decorating.
Open decorating involved several activities, all simultaneously taking place. Cookiers had their choice of independently and leisurely "playing" at the many different decorating stations and/or delving into the mystery shape competition.
For the competition, a (very) random shape (above) was unveiled at 8 am, and participants had until 2 pm to manifest their interpretation of the shape using anything and everything available. (Some people even brought their own special tools from home!) The winner was announced at the closing banquet that night. I'm very proud to brag about my friend Amy Clough of Clough'D 9 Cookies & Sweets who took home first place for her rooster vision, below.
She sat next to me at the decorating table, and I nearly choked on my chai tea latte as she effortlessly spun out her masterpiece (all the while encouraging me with my rendering of an unfortunate, distorted, and deranged fat cat with skinny tail and shrunken head that resembled some sort of tribal sacrifice typically found in ancient cave carvings). The sheer volume of visions from the participating cookiers was breathtaking.
There were also two decorator challenges, mystery taste tests by famous cookiers, and more seminars, as well as continued shopping opportunities.
Then came the piÈce de resistance . . . the banquet and the most anticipated activity of all (as I may have mentioned in a previous post) - the prize drawings. As a precursor, I should mention that the speeches were lovely and heartwarming. For example, a group of cookiers caught wind that another cookier in attendance with severe arthritis made her dough by hand and used a hand-mixer to make her icing. Within a day or two, they had raised enough money through the generosity of other attendees to have a brand new KitchenAid mixer sent to her door by Monday morning. The recipient was in tears, as were many others.
Surely with so much good karma flowing, I was certain my name was to be called for a brand new something-or-other. I also thought I had successfully instilled a certain degree of fear into my fellow cookiers regarding the winning of said something-or-others . . . That is to say, I expected they would give me anything they won in exchange for me not tackling them live for all to see. But alas, one by one, each person whose name was revealed hooted and hollered and zipped past me like a showcase winner on The Price Is Right. It was galling - the lack of respect and absence of concern for their physical well-being, and all for a prize. They clearly didn't believe I would make good on my threats.
Luckily for them, Kym Wampler of Magnificookies had sedated the beast by (for the second time) giving me her raffle-winning cookie swivel. (She already has one.) And then it was over.
Oh sure, people went on to party and karaoke with Arty McGoo afterwards 'til what I can only imagine was the wee hours of the morning, but it was just too much for me. I realized rock bottom and withdrawal were coming in the form of a plane ride home the next morning, and I needed to get myself to a safe place where I could revel in my cookie swag in solitude (and pajamas) for a few more hours.
And alas, here I sit, back at my kitchen table, having made breakfast for the four kids; packed lunches, snacks, and backpacks; signed paperwork; and refereed arguments. Is there a ten-step program for this kind of addiction withdrawal? Unfortunately, I hear it's 18 steps . . . or rather months . . . until we meet again at the next CookieCon.
Jen Wagman is the owner of Sugar (Cookie) Momma, Inc., founded in July 2012 on a complete lark following a couple of her kids' birthday parties and a dare from a good friend. In the ensuing years, Jen's cookies have been featured at corporate and private events, and the United States Capitol! She lives outside Annapolis, Maryland with her husband Matt and four kids (including four-year-old identical twin boys). Jen is also a practicing veterans' law attorney in Washington, D.C. Her cookie philosophy is to have a solid combination of a delicious cookie and a fearless attitude toward decorating. Trying and failing is part of the process. Imperfect cookies will still make somebody very happy (especially in the Wagman house!). While at CookieCon: Since Jen is a CookieCon newbie, she'll be capturing what it's like to be a first-timer through a series of daily blog posts.
Photo credit: Jen Wagman
Note: This article expresses the views of the author, and not necessarily those of this site, its owners, its administrators, or its employees. To read more CookieCon 2015 updates from our special Cookie Connection Correspondents Team, click here, and for CookieCon event photos, click here.
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