don't mind if i do

Tonight we invited the missionaries and one of Dave's coworkers over for dinner.  I went out shopping last night and bought all the ingredients for a roast chicken dinner with potatoes, onions, carrots, and gravy.  Well, apparently there was some kind of mix-up because as Dave was putting the groceries away, he thought I told him to put the chickens in the freezer!

We woke up this morning to two birds frozen solid and in no shape to be roasted.  Plan B was hamburgers, salad, and onion baked steak fries.  It turned out well in the end.

I really don't like to bake.  I think it looks like fun but everything I make turns out weird or wrong.  I think my problem lies in the fact that I loathe recipes.  I hate following recipes!  I hate measuring and sifting and following instructions when it comes to cooking.  I don't even own measuring cups or spoons.  If cooking is an art form, baking is a detailed Rembrandt and I am more of a Jackson Pollock kind of girl.  I really don't like to bake so we ate Loft House cookies from Target right out of the package.

You know you love those.

Katelyn had been sitting patiently in her high chair throughout the whole meal.  She spent the hour eating her food and staring at the elders.  (We don't often have company.)  I took a cookie to feed to her for dessert because she had just been so well behaved.  (Really, I would have given her one anyway.)  I distractedly started breaking a soft cookie into little pieces to put on her tray.  I got one piece broken off before I turned around to notice that Kate had made a reach for it and had over half of the cookie in her little fist.  Shocked, I laughed as she stuffed all of it in her mouth.

At that point, there was no pretending that I might be able to keep her even remotely tidy so I gave her the rest of the cookie to feed to herself.  Ten minutes later, she had frosting in her hair and cookie crumbs on her eyelashes.

What are baths for anyway, right?