A disasterous day

I was in bed reading or knitting recently, when I heard a shriek from Rachael’s room, and then frantic the dismayed chitter-chatter of Rachael and her friend Lillian as they talked on the phone. Some disaster has occured, I thought. Maybe one of their celebrity heroines had gotten arrested for drugs, or eloped with someone unsuitable. But no! It was way worse. Mother’s Cookies was going out of business! When she was little, Rebecca always ate these dreadful frosted animals when we visited Grandma Rossi, and she loved them. Since she only got them at Grandma R’s house, they are closely associated with her memory. Now, Rachael has inherited this odd gustatory trait, and loves them as well. I love to see them, since they remind me of Grandma Rossi and baby Rebecca, but for some reason, I find them rather revolting. My dear Uncle Robert, on the other hand, always had some Mother’s Vanilla Sandwich cookies on standby and I think of him whenever I see them. So all in all, these cookies, none of which I like to eat, are severely nostalgic, and will be sadly missed, by both eaters of them and non-eaters alike.
You would definitely hear a shriek of dismay from me if the genuine and absolutely delicious animals in the other package were to disappear. They - with a glass of milk - are one of life’s true pleasures.