Neiman Marcus Urban Legend Cookie Recipe

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From the kitchen of: Urban Legend

According to Snopes.com, this recipe story is an urban legend, and it goes something like this: A woman is in the Neiman Marcus cafe one day, and she asks for the recipe of a wonderful cookie she’s just eaten. She agrees to pay "two-fifty" for the recipe, thinking they means $2.50, but she gets charged $250.00. So in revenge She sends the recipe to everyone she knows.

I’ve heard the same story about cookies from Neiman Marcus, Mrs. Fields Cookies, L. S. Ayres, and several other businesses. My friend Jen has a Cake recipe with the same story type of that she received from her Grandmother, complete with a newspaper clipping of the story.

  • 2 cups butter
  • 2 cups sugar
  • 2 cups brown sugar
  • 4 eggs
  • 2 teaspoon vanilla
  • 4 cups flour
  • 5 cups blended oatmeal
  • 1 teaspoon salt
  • 2 teaspoon baking powder
  • 2 teaspoons baking soda
  • 24 ounces chocolate chips
  • 1 8 ounce hershey bar grated
  • 3 cups chopped nuts – your choice

Cream butter and both sugars, add eggs and vanilla. Mix together flour, oatmeal, salt, baking powder, and soda. Add chocolate chips, hershey bar, and nuts. Roll into balls and place two inches apart on cookie sheet. Bake 10 minutes at 375 degrees. Makes 112 cookies.

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I’ve Learned

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Author Unknown

I’ve learned that you cannot make someone love you. All you can do is be someone who can be loved. The rest is up to them.

I’ve learned that no matter how much I care, some people just don’t care back.

I’ve learned that it takes years to build up trust, and only seconds to destroy it.

I’ve learned that it’s not what you have in your life but who you have in your life that counts.

I’ve learned that you can get by on charm for about fifteen minutes. After that, you’d better know something.

I’ve learned that you shouldn’t compare yourself to the best others can do but to the best you can do.

I’ve learned that it’s not what happens to people that’s important. It’s what they do about it.

I’ve learned that you can do something in an instant that will give you heartache for life.

I’ve learned that no matter how thin you slice it, there are always two sides.

I’ve learned that it’s taking me a long time to become the person I want to be.

I’ve learned that it’s a lot easier to react than it is to think.

I’ve learned that you should always leave loved ones with loving words. It may be the last time you see them.

I’ve learned that you can keep going long after you think you can’t.

I’ve learned that we are responsible for what we do, no matter how we feel.

I’ve learned that either you control your attitude or it controls you.

I’ve learned that regardless of how hot and steamy a relationship is at first, the passion fades and there had better be something else to take its place.

I’ve learned that heroes are the people who do what has to be done when it needs to be done, regardless of the consequences.

I’ve learned that learning to forgive takes practice.

I’ve learned that there are people who love you dearly, but just don’t know how to show it.

I’ve learned that money is a lousy way of keeping score.

I’ve learned that my best friend and I can do anything or nothing and have the best time.

I’ve learned that sometimes the people you expect to kick you when you’re down will be the ones to help you get back up.

I’ve learned that sometimes when I’m angry I have the right to be angry, but that doesn’t give me the right to be cruel.

I’ve learned that true friendship continues to grow, even over the longest distance. Same goes for true love.

I’ve learned that just because someone doesn’t love you the way you want them to doesn’t mean they don’t love you with all they have.

I’ve learned that maturity has more to do with what types of experiences you’ve had and what you’ve learned from them and less to do with how many birthdays you’ve celebrated.

I’ve learned that you should never tell a child their dreams are unlikely or outlandish. Few things are more humiliating, and what a tragedy it would be if they believed it.

I’ve learned that your family won’t always be there for you. It may seem funny, but people you aren’t related to can take care of you and love you and teach you to trust people again. Families aren’t biological.

I’ve learned that no matter how good a friend is, they’re going to hurt you every once in a while and you must forgive them for that.

I’ve learned that it isn’t always enough to be forgiven by others. Sometimes you have to learn to forgive yourself.

I’ve learned that no matter how bad your heart is broken the world doesn’t stop for your grief.

I’ve learned that our background and circumstances may have influenced who we are, but we are responsible for who we become.

I’ve learned that sometimes when my friends fight, I’m forced to choose sides even when I don’t want to.

I’ve learned that just because two people argue, it doesn’t mean they don’t love each other. And just because they don’t argue, it doesn’t mean they do.

I’ve learned that sometimes you have to put the individual ahead of their actions.

I’ve learned that we don’t have to change friends if we understand that friends change.

I’ve learned that you shouldn’t be so eager to find out a secret. It could change your life forever.

I’ve learned that two people can look at the exact same thing and see something totally different.

I’ve learned that no matter how you try to protect your children, they will eventually get hurt and you will hurt in the process.

I’ve learned that there are many ways of falling and staying in love.

I’ve learned that no matter the consequences, those who are honest with themselves get farther in life.

I’ve learned that no matter how many friends you have, if you are their pillar you will feel lonely and lost at the times you need them most.

I’ve learned that your life can be changed in a matter of hours by people who don’t even know you.

I’ve learned that even when you think you have no more to give, when a friend cries out to you, you will find the strength to help.

I’ve learned that writing, as well as talking, can ease emotional pains.

I’ve learned that the paradigm we live in is not all that is offered to us.

I’ve learned that credentials on the wall do not make you a decent human being.

I’ve learned that the people you care most about in life are taken from you too soon.

I’ve learned that although the word "love" can have many different meanings; it loses value when overly used.

I’ve learned that it’s hard to determine where to draw the line between being nice and not hurting people’s feelings, and standing up for what you believe.

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Seattle Special Olympics

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Author Unknown – email forward

Parts of this story have been proven to be untrue, according to this page on Snopes.com

A few years ago at the seattle special olympics, nine contestants, all physically or mentally disabled, assembled at the starting line for the 100 yard dash.

At the gun, they all started out, not exactly in a dash, but with a relish to run the race, to the finish, and win. All, that is, except one little boy who stumbled on the asphalt, tumbled over, and began to cry. The other eight heard the boy cry. They slowed down and looked back. Then they all turned around and went back. Every one of them. One girl with down’s syndrome bent down and kissed him and said," this will make it better."

Then all nine linked arms, and walked together to the finish line. Everyone in the stadium stood, and cheered; the cheering went on for several minutes.

People who were there are still telling the story. Why? Because deep down we know this one thing: What matters in life is more than winning for ourselves. What matters in this life is helping others win, even if it means slowing down, and changing our course.

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The Window

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by Alan Seager

More about the origins of this story and the number of times it has been re-written and reprinted appears on Snopes.com.

Two men, both seriously ill, occupied the same hospital room. One man was allowed to sit up in his bed for an hour a day to drain the fluids from his lungs. His bed was next to the room’s only window. The other man had to spend all his time flat on his back.

The men talked for hours on end. They spoke of their wives and families, their homes, their jobs, their involvement in the military service, where they had been on vacation. And every afternoon when the man in the bed next to the window could sit up, he would pass the time by describing to his roommate all the things he could see outside the window.

The man in the other bed would live for those one-hour periods where his world would be broadened and enlivened by all the activity and color of the outside world. The window overlooked a park with a lovely lake, the man had said. Ducks and swans played on the water while children sailed their model boats. Lovers walked arm in arm amid flowers of every color of the rainbow. Grand old trees graced the landscape, and a fine view of the city skyline could be seen in the distance. As the man by the window described all this in exquisite detail, the man on the other side of the room would close his eyes and imagine the picturesque scene.

One warm afternoon, the man by the window described a parade passing by. Although the other man could not hear the band, he could see it in his mind’s eye as the gentleman by the window portrayed it with descriptive words. Unexpectedly, an alien thought entered his head: "Why should he have all the pleasure of seeing everything while I never get to see anything?" It didn’t seem fair. As the thought fermented, the man felt ashamed at first. But as the days passed and he missed seeing more sights, his envy eroded into resentment and soon turned him sour. He began to brood and found himself unable to sleep. He should be by that window–and that thought now controlled his life.

Late one night, as he lay staring at the ceiling, the man by the window began to cough. He was choking on the fluid in his lungs. The other man watched in the dimly lit room as the struggling man by the window groped for the button to call for help. Listening from across the room, he never moved, never pushed his own button which would have brought the nurse running. In less than five minutes, the coughing and choking stopped, along with the sound of breathing. Now, there was only silence–deathly silence.

The following morning, the day nurse arrived to bring water for their baths. When she found the lifeless body of the man by the window, she was saddened and called the hospital attendant to take it away–no words, no fuss. As soon as it seemed appropriate, the man asked if he could be moved next to the window. The nurse was happy to make the switch and after making sure he was comfortable, she left him alone. Slowly, painfully, he propped himself up on one elbow to take his first look. Finally, he would have the joy of seeing it all himself. He strained to slowly turn to look out the window beside the bed…. It faced a blank wall.

Moral of the story:

The pursuit of happiness is a matter of choice…it is a positive attitude we consciously choose to express. It is not a gift that gets delivered to our doorstep each morning, nor does it come through the window. And I am certain that our circumstances are just a small part of what makes us joyful. If we wait for them to get just right, we will never find lasting joy.

The pursuit of happiness is an inward journey. Our minds are like programs, awaiting the code that will determine behaviors; like bank vaults awaiting our deposits. If we regularly deposit positive, encouraging and uplifting thoughts, if we continue to bite our lips just before we begin to grumble and complain, if we shoot down that seemingly harmless negative thought as it germinates, we will find that there is much to rejoice about.

If by the mere fact, you are healthy, and can read this message, consider yourself one of the lucky ones. Smile… be positive… make others smile… and pass on your good fortune. This world is for those who are confident and possess a positive energy. So remember, it is when you see your cup half full instead of half empty that the world and those in it come along and fill your cup to the brim for you! Remember this!

Continue ReadingThe Window

It’s a Small World

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This written piece isn’t quite accurate: see more about real statistics on Snopes.com.

If we could shrink the earth’s population to a village of precisely 100 people, with all the existing human ratios remaining the same, there would be:

  • 57 Asians
  • 21 Europeans
  • 14 from the Western Hemisphere, both north and south
  • 8 Africans
  • 52 would be female
  • 48 would be male
  • 70 would be non-white
  • 30 would be white
  • 70 would be non-Christian
  • 30 would be Christian
  • 89 would be heterosexual
  • 11 would be homosexual
  • 6 people would possess 59% of the entire world’s wealth and all 6 would be from the United States.
  • 80 would live in substandard housing
  • 70 would be unable to read
  • 50 would suffer from malnutrition
  • 1 would be near death; 1 would be near birth
  • 1 (yes, only 1) would have a college education
  • 1 would own a computer

When one considers our world from such a compressed perspective, the need for both acceptance, understanding and education becomes glaringly apparent.

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Teddy’s Teacher

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by Elizabeth Silance Ballard

This work of fiction was penned in 1976 and published that year in Home Life magazine. For more on this piece, see this page on Snopes.com.

Jean Thompson stood in front of her fifth-grade class on the very first day of school in the Fall and told the children a lie. Like most teachers, she looked at her pupils and said that she loved each of them the same, that she would treat them all alike.

And that was impossible because there in front of her, slumped in his seat on the third row, was a little boy named Teddy Stoddard. Mrs. Thompson had watched Teddy the year before and noticed he didn’t play well with the other children, that his clothes were unkempt and that he constantly needed a bath. And Teddy was unpleasant. It got to the point during the first few months that she would actually take delight in marking his papers with a broad red pen, making bold X’s and then highlighting the “F” at the top of the paper biggest of all.

Because Teddy was a sullen little boy, no one else seemed to enjoy him, either. At the school where Mrs. Thompson taught, she was required to review each child’s records and delayed Teddy’s until last. When she opened his file, she found a surprise.

His first-grade teacher had written, “Teddy is a bright, inquisitive child with a ready laugh. He does his work neatly and has good manners. He is a joy to be around.”

His second-grade teacher had penned, “Teddy is an excellent student, well-liked by all his classmates, but he is troubled because his mother has a terminal illness and life at home must be a struggle.”

His third-grade teacher had noted, “Teddy continues to work hard but his mother’s death has been hard on him. He tries to do his best but his father doesn’t show much interest and his home life will soon affect him if some steps aren’t taken.”

Teddy’s fourth-grade teacher had commented, “Teddy is withdrawn and doesn’t show much interest in school. He doesn’t have many friends and often falls asleep in class. He is tardy and could become a more serious problem.”

By now Mrs. Thompson realized the extent of the problem, but Christmas was coming fast. It was all she could do, with the school play and all, until the day before the holidays began and she was suddenly forced to focus again on Teddy Stoddard.

Her children brought her presents and gift hampers melbourne, all in beautiful ribbon and bright paper, except Teddy’s, which was clumsily wrapped in the heavy, brown paper of a scissored grocery bag.

Mrs. Thompson took pains to open it in the middle of the other presents. Some of the children started to laugh when she found a rhinestone bracelet with some of the stones missing, and a bottle that was one-quarter full of cologne. She stifled the children’s laughter while she exclaimed how pretty the bracelet was, putting it on, and dabbing some of the perfume behind the other wrist.

Teddy Stoddard stayed behind after class just long enough to say, “Mrs. Thompson, today you smelled just like my mom used to.”

After the children left, she cried for at least an hour.

On that very day, she quit teaching reading, and writing, and speaking. Instead, she began to teach children. Jean Thompson paid particular attention to one they all called “Teddy.” As she worked with him, his mind seemed to come alive. The more she encouraged him, the faster he responded. On those days when there would be an important test, Mrs. Thompson would remember that cologne. By the end of the year he had become one of the highest achieveing children in the class and, well, he had also somewhat become the “pet” of that teacher who had once vowed to love all of her children exactly the same.

A year later she found a note under her door, from Teddy, telling her that of all the teachers he’d had in elementary school, she was his favorite.

Six years went by before she got another note from Teddy. He then wrote that he had finished high school, third in his class, and she was still his favorite teacher of all time.

Four years after that, she got another letter, saying that while things had been tough at times, he’d stayed in school, had stuck with it, and would graduate from college with the highest of honors. He assured Mrs. Thompson she was still his favorite teacher.

Four more years passed and yet another letter came. This time he explained that after he got his bachelor’s degree, he decided to go a little further. The letter explained that she was still his favorite teacher but that now his name was a little longer. The letter was signed, Theodore F. Stoddard, M.D.

The story doesn’t end there. You see, there was yet another letter that Spring. Teddy said he’d met this girl and was to be married. He explained that his father had died a couple of years ago and he was wondering if Mrs. Thompson might agree to sit in the pew usually reserved for the mother of the groom.

And on that day, she wore that bracelet, the one with several rhinestones missing. And on that special day, Jean Thompson smelled just like the way Teddy remembered his mother smelling on their last Christmas together.

THE MORAL: You never can tell what type of impact you may make on another’s life by your actions or lack of action. Consider this fact in your venture through life.

Continue ReadingTeddy’s Teacher