If Only I Could Bake

I got a recent email from a new friend, T. F. Walsh, and she’s a baker. She’s even got pictures. They look like you could reach through the screen and eat one. *Sigh!* I wish I could bake. I’ve told friends, some people just don’t have it… and I’m one of ’em. For example, I cannot for the life of me, keep a plant alive. My thumb is brown people. Literally and figuratively.  So I figured I’d share one of my many baking episodes with you.

Picture this.

Its a cold winter day in Virginia; 30 degrees. Cute as a button, bundled up to look like a tiny version of the Michelin man, is my two year old son in one arm and on my right hip. In the other hand, as many bags as I can carry to balance out my load. I struggle up the stairs, juggle the kid against the door, groceries, and keys without dropping a thing. Yay me!

I drop the bags in the kitchen that have now encumbered my ability to walk without it seeming like I’m gonna take a header into the nearest wall. I put the kid in his room to play while Mommie fixes dinner. I unpack and put away groceries and I take what I’m going to fix for dinner and place it on the stove. Frozen dinner rolls included…

I know, you’re laughing already. I sit down on the couch for a minute. I’m gonna get up in a minute. Just need to rest my eyes. Yep. You guessed it. Two hours later when I woke up, I panicked. Checked on the kid, he had fallen asleep too. Still, oblivious I walked into the kitchen, took one look at the stove and said, “Aaawwww”. You know like what you used to do when you were a kid and you knew someone was in trouble. Those dinner rolls that were a bag of 10 rolls was now one big bag of dough that had busted a portion of the plastic bag it was in. You’d think I would have stopped there…nooo. I then decided that I could save it. I tore pieces of the dough, rolled it round by hand and baked it. After 20-30 minutes, when they were a pretty golden brown, I took them out and found that I could use them the same way you would throw rocks at targets because they were just as hard.

See what I mean? I can cook but unlike Amara, the female love interest in Better Than 8: Fantasy, I am no Betty Crocker. Do you have a cooking/baking horror story too?

2 Comments (+add yours?)

  1. T. F. Walsh
    May 06, 2011 @ 03:56:48

    You’re too sweet Erin, if I could I’d post you some cupcakes:) I tend to find cooking is my thinking time when I’m brewing a new story or stuck in a scene, plus who wouldn’t love a yummy treat every now and then:) I think a timer in the kitchen will help you overcome your baking disaster….


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