…you have your sister come over and watch lame old Star Trek reruns with you because you need to end the evening on a laugh.

Actually, she was already at the ol’ homeplace because we were supposed to watch “Arsenic and Old Lace” together but that didn’t pan out because by the time the Twins/Tigers game was over, it was too late for us to start viewing that excellent old Cary Grant flick. By then the cookies were already doomed, and so was my self-confidence.

I thought myself invincible in this regard. I had measured everything pretty accurately, everything essential anyway (giving extra credit to cinnamon and chocolate chips). I was intending these to go in a care package to Haus Meister, who thinks I am an amazing cook. After tonight I began to wonder whether my domestic kitchen prowess loses its power when I am out of our home element. Maybe it’s my oven. I miss the oven. It’s a 1960 Frigidaire and it opens at eye level so there’s no chance of crawling babies coming anywhere near a warm oven door. It has its quirks to be sure, like having only two working burners, but by golly when I say bake, it baketh and when I say roast, it roasteth.

Maybe I’ll try again tomorrow. There’s still “Arsenic and Old Lace” to watch, and plenty of old Star Trek reruns in case the next Twins game goes past the ninth inning. Funny how we never paid attention to baseball until my sis married a diehard Twins fan.

Ok, end pout. Gotta go do those cookie dishes.