It ain’t Christmas without cookies. Even if California seems about as Christmas-y as, say, Abu Dhabi. But my sister Peggy made the dough. I rolled it out and cut ’em while she minded them in the oven. I prefer my cookies virginal and white. Peggy insisted on the red and green sprinkles which I grudgingly think are pretty. In a butting-in-where-you-aren’t-wanted-way.
