Maybe I should take a cooking class

Hello Kitty

"Maybe you should take a cooking class."

That's how Jared woke me up the other morning. I didn't know if I should be offended or offended.  He wasn't trying to hurt my feelings, in fact, I think I know his motivation.  You see, Jared has a philosophy about cooking, if you enjoy it, you will be good at it.  He knows I don't love making dinner every night and so in his caveman brain that means I must not be good at it. The problem lies in the fact that he is a picky eater and I can't always read his mind. 

This is only after I cleaned up the explosion

Regardless of Jared's intention, I stewed over the cooking class comment for days.  I decided to make his favorite cookies just to prove him wrong (technically baking not cooking, whatever). But when John and Kitty heard, they insisted I make their favorite cookies instead, and because I like their favorites better, I went with the kids. 

It was going well until we were out of brown sugar.  No problem, I thought, I'll just use regular with some molasses and call it good (I know how to cook).  And it was good until I went to the cupboard and realized we were out of molasses and that I had substituted brown sugar in my molasses holiday cookies. So... I went with Plan B: regular sugar.  Done.

I mindlessly added ingredients with expert precision telling myself I knew how to make darn good cookies, even without the right ingredients. I was lost in thought about my mad baking skills when I added the flour and instead of moving the "lock" lever on the mixer, I moved the speed lever to full blast. Flour blasted the kitchen, me, Kitty, Chickie, the dogs, everyone. It was awesome.

The cookies turned out fine, by the way.  My confidence? Better than ever.

One of my helpers

Turned my back for a second and she decided to make a baking soda mess to rival the flour.  She didn't like the taste of it.