Wednesday, April 28, 2010


So I tried to make bread yesterday! I was so excited about it. I ground my own wheat into flour and everything. A family that I work with through the school I work for gave me what they called the easiest bread recipe ever. Apparently it is full proof you make the whole recipe in the blender and just put it in the bread pan to cook. There is apparently NO way to mess it up. I was REALLY looking forward to hot warm bread. What I created was in fact NOT bread. I am not sure if a giant wheat glob actually has a name bread pudding perhaps, but it was NOT bread. I kept hoping that some miracle would take place that it would change in the oven and somehow turn into bread. I am pretty sure the issue was that it didn't rise right but for the life of me I have know clue what went wrong. I am really not a domestic hands on type of person. It was not what I was made for. I would have died on the plains for sure.
I have told Darin for years that I am in fact not meant for domestic work. He doesn't quite believe me. I can not tell you the number of times I have hurt myself cooking or cleaning. I can't go a week without bruising, burning or cutting myself in an attempt to be domestic. I swear I am going against nature when I try to cook and clean at all. Nine years ago I was trying to clean my car by hand. I cut my finger on the tail pipe of the car and ended up with a permanent tattoo on my finger. I have a 1/4 inch black line on my right pinkie that will never go away ( I couldn't get the grease out of the cut). I deiced at that point that god was trying to tell me that I was not meant for manual labor. That the tattoo is in fact a reminder from the Divine that I should not even attempt manual labor. I agree, but since I can not afford to pay anyone else to do it. I make due.
Until recently my children thought that cookies came out of freezer or refrigerator packages. I know that they will eventually make cookies at a friends house and be confused when the person breaks out flour and sugar. More recently I have started using Betty Crockers bagged cookie mix so they now know that some times when you make cookies they do not come from the container in the refrigerator. I think they might still be surprised when they see someday in the future that people actually make somethings from scratch. Almost all of my cooking involves cans, boxes or frozen food of some type. My children would truly suffer if I ever had to cook from scratch. Hopefully for them that day never comes. When I meet women or men who actually love to cook and clean I wonder about there sanity. I am sure that it all comes down to genetics or environment or some such. I think that my domestic genes may have been stolen by my brothers.