I was all spunky and optimistic yesterday, but so far, 2007 is already trying to break my spirit. This morning, I woke up all bright eyed and bushy tailed. Ready to take on the day. I even offered to let John sleep in on what should have been MY day to sleep in. I was feeling generous, I was feeling happy.
(we'd made a deal that while John was home on vacation we would take turns every other day letting one of us sleep in while the other gets up with Alex. Of course, I've been getting screwed on this deal because Alex takes his first morning shit at 9:00AM which means John's dropping Alex and his stinky diaper on me every morning, while on his morning to sleep in, he doesn't rouse until well after 10 or 11. Given that 9:00 is a full two hours later than I usually sleep, I haven't complained. Much.)
I opened the blinds to find the first day of the year to be gloomy and grey out. No matter, I thought, I was excited to start baking goodies for John's family's holiday party. I had found a picture and a recipe for yummy chocolate brownies with cream cheese and raspberry frosting. I'd cut out the picture of the delicious looking treat and had it on my counter for over a week. I couldn't wait to bake them. I got started, giving Alex a wooden spoon and Tupperware to play with while I cooked. I took care to adjust the recipe for high altitude. I'd purchased a brand new cake pan. I got the first batch in the oven, turned on the timer and noticed a bottle of unopened canola oil on the counter. I hadn't added it to the batter! I hurried and opened up the oven and began to take the pan out when I saw two little hands grab the oven door. "NO!" I yelled at Alex, pushing him away from the oven so he wouldn't burn his fingers, simultaneously dropping the cake pan inside the oven. Brownie batter began oozing all over the racks and heating element. "SHIT!" I yelled, and without thinking reached in and grabbed the pan without the hot pad, burning my finger. "FUCKITY FUCK FUCK FUCK!" I screamed. In the dining room I hear my son's cute little voice yelling "FUCK FUCK FUCK!" Great, I thought. My son's first word of the year.
I managed to clean most of the batter out of the oven, save one glob right under the heating element that was too hot to mess around with. I started making another batch of batter, this time putting the oil in first, so as not to have a repeat performance. I followed the recipe down to the letter, and the batter looked perfect. I put the batter in the pan and the pan in the oven uneventfully and waited out the 15 minutes for it to bake. I was feeling good about the brownies this time. When the timer went off, I pulled the pan out of the oven and couldn't believe my eyes. The brownies were completely lopsided. Like Gumby. Half the batter had risen up nicely and baked up nice and fluffy, while the other half of the pan just got all hard and crispy. "What the hell?!" I turned off the oven and went to our room and told John all about what had happened. He seemed to think it was amusing. I was heartbroken. I laid down in bed and pulled the covers over my head to mope a little bit. There was no way I was going to try a third batch. What was I going to make??
After moping in our room for 10 minutes or so, I decided I'd try something altogether different. I'd make Peach cobbler. You can't screw up a cobbler. So I went to the grocery store and got what I needed. When I came home, I decided to make Alex his lunch. Fish sticks and green beans. I put six sticks in a pan and popped them in the oven and started microwaving the green beans when I smelled smoke. Brownie flavored smoke. I opened up the oven to find the little glob of brownie batter I had left under the heating element on fire!
"FIRE! FIRE!" I screamed, "HONEY! THERE'S A FIRE!"
"What?" John yelled from the basement
"FIIIIIRE!" I screamed back
John ran up the stairs as fast as he could to find me standing in the kitchen with smoke billowing out of the oven.
"Is that the brownie batter?" He asked calmly
"YES! WHAT SHOULD WE DO? IT'S ON FIRE!" I yelled, clearly having already lost my shit by this point
John simply closed the oven door. "Just let it burn out."
"BUT THE FISH STICKS! THE FISH STICKS!"
I opened up the oven and pulled out the pan of fish sticks and set them on the stove. I didn't notice until after I'd let go of the pan that I hadn't used a hot pad. "GOD DAMN IT!" I shrieked and ran to the sink to run cold water over my hand.
I looked over at Alex who'd been watching the commotion from the dining room with a shit eating grin on his face. This was so much more entertaining than Teletubbies.
After Alex had lunch and went down for his nap, I decided to give this dessert baking thing one last go. Third time's a charm right? So I am at this moment baking my peach cobbler. It doesn't appear to be going well. It's already been in the oven for 45 minutes and it's still soupy. I'm giving it 10 more minutes and then I give up. I'm covered head to toe in sugar and flour and my hair smells like burnt brownies. If this cobbler doesn't work out I'm going to go buy some oreos and milk and leave it at that.
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