They say the darkest hour is just before dawn.
With all due respect, that’s a pile of $#!*. Just not true at all, I’m afraid. The darkest hour is 9:30 PM when your kids have gone to bed and you wanted to watch episodes of Cake Boss but you can’t because you’re in piping hell. The cake isn’t looking right, melted frosting is leaking out of the wrong side of the piping bag into your hair, and you feel nothing but deep despair.
Or does that just happen to me?
Everybody has a different idea of fun, which explains skydiving. I’ve never felt the urge. Yeah, I get that the adrenaline pumps because you think you’re about to bite it and then you don’t and woohoo and all that, but I can get my thrills a lot cheaper.
Oh yeah, you challenge? You betcha. If I can find just ten minutes of uninterrupted reading time in my zoo of a household, that’s all the fun I can handle.
Wait. Now I sound boring. So to change your mind about me real quick, here are these bars! They are the essence of fun.
Deep breath. I have a confession to make.
I’m a failure.
It’s true! I fail constantly. Daily, if you must know. And I have a darn good time doing it. Because how else is the really great stuff supposed to happen unless I get stomped on and rejected and keep my humility?
So I’ve dedicated this post to my baking fails. Believe me, there are many. And my pride is so low that I don’t mind sharing them with you. Here we go, folks. Hang on and enjoy the ride!
The first time I ever saw Superman (the good one, with Christopher Reeve), I got really confused when they showed the Kryptonite. See, it was glowing and green and all bright. It didn’t look remotely like a chocolate chip cookie.
If Superman were real, that’s what Kryptonite would be for him. Because I know that’s what chocolate chip cookies mean to me, and the rest of humankind as we know it. Nobody can resist them. Seriously. I’ve never met anyone (except my chocolate-hating son, but we’ve all agreed that he’s beyond understanding) who hates a chocolate chip cookie.
Is it just me, or have women engineered our lives so that we have no time at all?
See, we have rights and we can work and vote and do all those great things. Super! I’m excited to be alive in this time, really I am. But why does having permission to be considered equal to men translate into women suddenly being superheroes?
Because I am, ya know. Sometimes I lie back against my fluffy pillows at the end of the day and just sit there, dazed at how much I could pack into a day. And I’m not bragging, because I’m not pretending to do it well or anything. But somehow, it’s totally legit for women to figure out how to pack in work, family time, exercise, errands, logistics (don’t get me started on how much we plan), general hygiene, and oh so much more in one day. Every day. Relentlessly.
I’m not necessarily complaining, mainly because I’m lazy and tired and don’t feel like opening that can of worms right now. I’ll open it next week. I’m just trying to explain how I wound up baking when I had no time. These bars, to be exact.
Have you ever been to DC? You know, our nation’s capital? If you haven’t, get down here immediately! There is so much to see and do, and a lot of it is free!
Well, kind of. The National Zoo is free, and they have a cute baby panda named Bao Bao. But in exchange for watching all of the adorableness as he tumbles down hills while trying unsuccessfully to stand up, you have to pay a $22 flat fee to park in the zoo lot. So it’s not exactly free, unless you want to go with street parking. Which you could, if you find a free spot. Or take the subway. But that’s not free either.
Okay, I’ll stop griping. Really, the National Zoo is very nice. Even with the absence of giraffes. And the monuments are free, too. And the museums. But not all of them! That International Spy Museum is a tricky biscuit.
Ever heard the expression “Waste not, want not?”
Of course you have. But have you ever really thought about it? What does it mean? If I don’t waste the half-eaten banana my kid left on the floor by hurling it immediately into the garbage, then…I’ll eat it? And I won’t be hungry?
I mean, I’ve done that. Eaten scraps my family leaves around. But I gotta tell you, I still want. Food. Of my own. That wasn’t left on the floor. Or in a doll’s bed.
While I do admit (and yes, I’m ashamed) to being pretty wasteful in some aspects of my life, I am very good about using what I have in the kitchen. Last week I made these S’more Brownie Cupcakes and I had brownie batter left over. So what better to do than take the batter, put it in a tart pan, bake it up and make a brownie pizza?
Have you ever been able to eat just one Oreo? I’m asking this question seriously. Feel free to let me know immediately, if not sooner.
You see, I think there’s something in Oreos. Something addictive, and most definitely illegal. No, smarty pants, not sugar. I’m thinking along the lines of old-school Coca-Cola. You catch my drift?
If not, do some research into the history of that particular beverage. I have no time to explain it now. We’ve moved back to Oreos. Stay with me, people!
Every now and then, the people I love let me go to a farmer’s market on Sunday morning. You see, kids are really impatient. They don’t find stalls full of jewelry and baked goods and produce appealing. They think it’s kind of dull unless they happen to be eating the baked goods. The whole time.
During one happy farmer’s market outing many moons ago, I sampled the best raspberry crumb bars in the universe. No, I’m not being hyperbolic. They were incredible. I would actually pick one over a Reese’s. That should give you an idea of how amazing they were.
Camp started this week, and every morning is a blur. My husband and I take turns working out, and whoever is not exercising or getting dressed is getting the kids ready. Lunchboxes are packed, bathing suits put on, sunscreen slathered into every crevice, and then there is so much more to remember. Is it pizza day? Did we sign a permission slip to let our son go on a boat? For our daughter to ride a pony?
Now that I’m on a teaching hiatus, I’m actually less efficient. Routines make me work harder and better. Not that I’m complaining. Summer is kind of cool. But when I’m running around in the morning like a nutter butter, I need to have some quick baking projects. This is one of them.
