This post was supposed to be about baking. And I thought I would throw in how I have undertaken substitute teaching again. But mostly, baking. Five minutes ago, I tasted one of the cookies that I spent a very long time baking, and it tasted like CARDBOARD. I am pondering giving up the post and giving up baking. I have consoled myself that they are for my family, who won't judge me, and the snowflake design still looks pretty, but, dang it Martha Stewart, I thought your cookie recipe would be a good one. You are Martha, after all.
When I bake, my kitchen looks like this. Messy Bessy. That should be my kitchen code-name. I like to blame it on the severe lack of counter space. I have been known to use the top of the fridge as a surface to set things when the space gets sparse...you can imagine how that ends when I jerk open the freezer a little later.
Aaron sat on the floor and played me ballads. Which reminds me, today when I was subbing, a kindergarten boy told a kindergarten girl that she looked sexy. Why does a five-year-old know how to use the word sexy? Oh gracious. Now may he call her cute? Yes, please. But not sexy, unless he wants to make his sub cry. Which, now that I think about it, he probably did want that.
In addition to the Cookies Made Of Cardboard, I made these buckeyes, which turned out tasty. The baking night was not a complete loss. It was hard to make them look as beautiful as the food blogger did, but I direct you to my mantra for the night: they are for family.
And if the family don't like 'em, well, gosh, they've got the gingerbread. Oh wait...
Here, in Exhibit A, please note the hunk of gingerbread dough that was destined for disaster.
Here, in Exhibit B, please note the cookie it became, which does look quite charming. So if you could imagine a flavor other than cardboard as you gaze upon it, that would be nice.
About subbing. Here are some of the best nuggets:
"Are you Justin Bieber's mom?" - 2nd grade girl
Hmm...Weaver and Bieber...I can see how the mistake was made...
"You should shave your hair. You have really dark hair on your arm. Girls aren't supposed to have dark hair." - Kindergarten boy
We'll call it a night.