The Churn of the Mixer Goes Round and Round

            I hastily take out the mixer from its hiding spot under the counter. Ingredients are gathered from all over the kitchen. Plop, in go the sticks of butter. The sugar falls in an elegant swish. I'm feeling calmer already. The concoction is beat together into a decadent looking crystal paste. Crack with the eggs and splash with the vanilla. Time to count the cups of flour. One, two, three, and when the mixer is clicked on a white cloud is thrown out of the bowl. The problems of my day are being beat up along with the cookie dough. All that's left is the chocolate chips, they fall out of the bag with a little plink from each morsel. Half of what's left in the bag? Nah, let's do a little more. Maybe a little more. Ehh just dump the whole bag in there. Who really needs measurements.
            The dough: possibly the best part of the cookie making process, with a tall glass of cold milk (and I even hate milk), can cure just about anything. The dough is formed into little balls, soon to be morphed into misshapen cookies. They go into the oven, I watch as stress from the day melts along with the chocolate chips. The little balls become flat, and then begin to rise into their puffy forms. Then they're done, I clumsily pull them from the oven. Too hot to eat, but who cares? I made them start to finish. I take a breath of relief. I feel better.
            Baking. It can be messy and a pain. It takes time and effort. It's seen as silly when you can just go to the store and pick out any kind of cookie you want without any work put into it. Yet somehow, it's one of the most therapeutic things I can think of. When I'm throwing ingredients together and creating something for others to enjoy, I feel like I'm in control. I'm doing something from scratch that will be appreciated by all around.
            After a day when I feel like I have no real power or control over anything that's going on; that first bite into the cookie that was made according to my standards, my preferences, and my time, nothing can make me feel quite as good.