Somehow, by moving, I think I’ve managed to offend the Baking Gods.
Not one thing that’s come from my oven has been “right”. So far I’ve horribly mutilated oatmeal chocolate chip cookies and now some banana bread. WTH?
I’m beginning to doubt my awesome-ness in the baking annals of time. This just will not do. Heck, for years, I baked because I was angry. The measuring and the mixing and the aromas seemed to do wonders for me. My hubby would come home, smell something luscious in the oven and then think, “Uh oh”.
Maybe that’s my problem. I haven’t been angry when I’ve baked. I haven’t given the necessary ritual curses and angry mixing of the batter to properly appease the almighty Baking Gods. I haven’t thrown flour about the room and stomped my feet, nor painted chocolate smears across my apron and smudges on my face. They must not recognize me!! My proper penitence has not been paid. Hubby hasn’t come home and said, “Uh Oh”, looked at what a mess I’d made of my clothes and followed that comment up with, “You should just bake naked.”
THAT’S what it is. It has to be. The Baking Gods are PERVS!!
or… maybe…. it’s because the oven is a few degrees off?…… nah…. the Baking Gods are pervs.