<div class="floatleft">(http://25.media.tumblr.com/38539b100bb1f67da40e72d1b5153d22/tumblr_mgzcxqfVqD1rlxy60o1_500.jpg)</div><table class="bbc_table"><tbody><tr><td><strong>Character name: </strong></td><td>Monica Hemmill</td></tr><tr><td><strong>Location:</strong> </td><td>Monica's House, the Kitchen</td></tr><tr><td><strong>With:</strong> </td><td>Cassandra and Adriaana via text</td></tr><tr><td><strong>Doing:</strong> </td><td>Making Snickerdoodles</td></tr><tr><td><strong>Tagging:</strong> </td><td>Cassandra and Adriaana</td></tr></tbody></table><br/><hr/><br/>Baking was such a delight.<br/><br/>The house was filled with the scent of fresh cookies, Monica's world famous Snickerdoodles in fact.  But it wasn't the smell Monica loved the most, it was the order.  Her kitchen had an enormous granite island in the shape of an L.  She'd spent considerable time a few years ago having her kitchen remodeled and had the designer mock up several designs out of cardboard so she could move them around and make sure the work flow was just right.  Order, precision, doing things just so and making them do what she wanted were huge parts of her happiness.<br/><br/>The process started on the left with the dry ingredients, progressed to the wet ones, then the floury rolling out area, the pans to lay the yet to be baked cookies on then the deep sink to clean everything up.  On the other side clean dishtowels waited and then cooling racks with just so Snickerdoodles rested on them, cooling slowly and getting that perfect consistency.  She'd already sat two cookies each on two plates and had them on the edge of the island for the girls to grab when they came home.  Speaking of which...<br/><br/>Monica wiped her hands on her pink and black print apron and took out her phone to text them.<br/><span class="bbc_font" style="font-family: courier;"><br/>Remember to come straight home from school tonight, girls.  I have a function and Cassandra you are going with me.  Adriaana I will give you your dinner before we leave.  Hurry now, your cookies are waiting.  - Mother.</span><br/><br/>And that was Monica too.  No chat speak or shorthand was ever used by her and she actively discouraged it being used towards her.<br/><br/>She put the phone back in her apron and went back to baking.  The girls would text soon.  They knew her expectations.<br/><br/>