When some women hit middle age, they decide to run a business, run a marathon, or run for office. More power to them, I say.
I aimed for a smaller, first-time-ever accomplishment: making cookies from scratch. Today, I did it. And I’m extremely proud, because:
not all of the egg I cracked splattered all over my apron,
not all of the vanilla extract spilled,
not all of the cookie dough splattered all over the counter and the floor when I used the wrong setting on my mixer,
not all of the cookies burned,
and not all of the unburned cookies broke into bits when I touched them!
:smack::smack::smack:
They do taste surprisingly good, though. As a Dalek would put it, NOM, NOM, NOM. (They were peanut butter cookies, by the way, and I got the recipe from last week’s Parade.)
I used peanut butter, not bug butter. (Sadly, my supermarket doesn’t carry it yet.) When my son spotted vanilla extract in the cupboard, he knew I’d be making cookies!
Genetically modified bugs that barf up a butter-like substance instead of honey. No stingers, although with the Vor bugs, stingers are appropriate. (THis is fiction, Doug)