So, let’s start out with a couple of Maren’s blunders as of late..
A couple Sundays ago, we had made plans to go to my friend’s house for lunch. I was responsible for making 2 hot side dishes. Now, I am ashamed to admit that although I’m not afraid of cooking, time bake is another issue. Visions of burning the house down dance through my head when I try to contemplate the whole process. I know that ovens are designed for that feature, but when I envision how the process will work, it terrifies me. Some how, I envision black smoke billowing out of the oven, my dog and cat rolling over dead, and the charred remains of my turkey dinner and my house as the only thing left standing. Maybe there’s a name for this phobia, I just don’t know the name. So, mustering up all of my timebakeaphobia, I had my father-in-law help me with the settings, and off we went to church, cool side dishes in the oven awaiting the GREAT TIME BAKE. There was little time to ponder the ‘what-if’s of a time-bake disaster during church because on that particular morning, my duty was in the kid’s classroom and I found myself running around like a crazy woman doing the best I can with what is NOT my passion but my duty at hand. SO… It wasn’t until after church that I spoke with the lady whose home we were going to for lunch. Wanna know what she said to me?
“How about 5:00 for dinner?”
HAHAHAHHAHA major miscommunication on my part–because my dishes were piping HOT and ready to go for LUNCH and I was 5 hours early! Thankfully, they reheated beautifully and it allotted me the extra time in the afternoon for a very pleasant, VERY long, nap! HIP HIP HORRAY! (And whooya for time bake!)
Last week, my friend’s father passed away. This week, I attended the funeral. After the burial, and on the way back into the church, I was talking with my friend. Her mom goes to another church, and so I was just trying to make sure that meals had been lined up her family that day. I was trying to help, but the question I asked came out all wrong when I questioned, “Do you have food?” Appalled, she looked at me wondering why I would ask such a thing as she replied with uncertainty in her voice, “We have cookies and coffee…??” SHE THOUGHT I WAS ASKING IF THEY WERE FEEDING ME AND IF THERE WAS TO BE A MEAL!!!! Immediately, I felt my doofus-ness grow greater as I tried to explain my way out of the idiot I had made of myself.