I am not having a good housekeeping kind of morning. William and I made cookies, and they were supposed to be Choc-Oat Chip, but when I went to get out the baking cocoa, there were only scraps in the bottom of the container. Paul went to the grocery store last, so I asked him about the baking cocoa that had been on the list. He said, "Oh, yeah. I didn't know what baking cocoa was." O. Kay. No, don't ask a clerk, or call me on your cell phone, or look in the baking aisle and see if anything is labeled "baking cocoa"--please, don't trouble yourself.
So William and I made Oat Chip, no Choc. And the cookies came out all flat and greasy-looking, which is mystifying to me because I can be depended on to make cookies successfully: it is very unusual for me to be shaking my head at a cookie sheet and thinking, "What has occurred here?" They taste good, but scraping them off the cookie sheet was like trying to remove dried melted slug from the sidewalk, not that I have ever attempted such a thing, so I suppose what I mean is that it was like I would imagine such a task to be like, not that I have spent much time imagining it, either.
While the second batch was in the oven, the dryer buzzer buzzed. I went down to get a load of clothes, and discovered that they had purple marks all over them from some mystery source. I got increasingly frantic and tense as I took each item of baby clothing out of the basket (the rugby shirt I bought Edward yesterday, which he hasn't even worn yet; Elizabeth's favorite kitty shirt; the blue shirt with white sleeves I never know if I should put it in with whites or with colors), seeing which had been possibly ruined and wondering why why WHY?
I assumed that at some point I would discover the culprit item that had stained everything, and that it would be an item that would allow me to put the blame for this disaster firmly on some other member of my household--ideally Paul, who could be berated and made to feel my pain, rather than one of the children, who would have to be patiently instructed and educated. But nothing ever turned up: I put away the whole load of clothes, and there was no crayon, no skein of embroidery floss, no marker, nothing. And now my mind turns to the load of white laundry currently in the dryer. Oh, no no no no no.
Also, I need a good reliable recipe for oatmeal chocolate-chip cookies. Anyone got one? Email to swistle at gmail dot com, and maybe I'll post them and we can have a little bake-off.
Gift ideas for an 8-year-old, part 2 of 2 - Last week I talked about the gifts we were getting/considering for Edward, who is turning 8 next month. This week it’s Elizabeth’s turn: not “girl gifts,” ...