I used to call the dough company each year and ask them what charitable organizations in my area were selling their products. I was able to support a day care centre and some youth activity groups. How nice. A few years ago my mother informed me that one of her colleagues was selling the dough to raise funds for her choir. Without thinking, I went ahead and placed an order. I have been ordering dough from the same woman for the past three or four years, and it only struck me this year that her particular cause is a bit off the mark for me. It's wonderful that her choir is keeping well-to-do middle-aged women busy, otherwise they might be out hosting tea parties and getting manicures, but that isn't the demographic I had in mind when I decided to pay a premium for cookie dough.
Never mind. Today was my baking day. Somehow I managed to screw up a two-step process. Roll and bake. That's it. Roll and bake. Once again my mind inserted "drop onto floor" into the instructions. This time I didn't bother to photograph the fur-covered dough blobs. I did, however, take the time to photograph my favourite batch of completed non-floor cookies: