I was trying to make our usual Friday pizza last night, but for some reason it wasn't working out for me. The dough was not cooperating. The first time I messed it up, I thought I knew what I'd done wrong, so I dumped it all and started again. The second time, I had no idea what happened, and that's when I got really frustrated. It was 75 here yesterday (absolutely gorgeous!), and about 85 in my kitchen with the oven on, there was flour all over the place, and an explosion of dirty dishes. Literally, a hot mess.
Meals are optional for Delaney, but Annalise and I were getting hungry and cranky. The situation was becoming desperate, and after I dumped another impossibly sticky dough ball and prepared to start again, I decided to take a quick break. I plopped right down in this chair, and sent out a prayer to God on Facebook (because I'm sure He's on there) that went like this: "This is about to be my 3rd try with this pizza dough, this kitchen is so hot, and I'm so hungry. Please, God, let me get it right this time!!"
I'll admit I also threw that out there because I wanted someone else to know about my troubles. Anyone. Perhaps Tim, whose minutes-old status update I saw was, "I just ran 5 miles on the beach."
Feeling a little better after venting my stress, I headed back to the kitchen and began mixing yet another batch of dough. Would this one work? I would never find out, because just then I looked down and saw Annie waving the Terro ant trap around that I had so *cleverly* hidden in between the trash can and the dishwasher. Poison was coming out in big sticky globs all over her and the floor.
I turned off the oven, then snatched her and sprinted up the stairs to the bathtub, where I gave her the quickest and most thorough scrub-down she's ever had. Delaney stood next to me and watched as I dumped the water over her again and again, probably thinking, 'Glad it's her and not me.'
I briefly thought of calling for pizza delivery, but I figured the wait would be too long, and the pizza too greasy and disgusting. So, after I'd barricaded off the kitchen with three chairs, we ate good old PB&J. I reminded myself that the extra sacrifice was appropriate for Good Friday.
Later that night, my little prayer was answered when my next-door neighbor Andrea called and said, "I saw you had a rough night on Facebook. I made a chocolate dessert -- we broke our Lenten fast a little early -- and I was wondering if you'd like me to bring you some." I have to mention that Andrea and Dennis had been so disciplined up to that point that they hadn't even taken the Sunday exception to giving up chocolate for Lent.
I accepted because, how could I turn down chocolate? And it really warmed my heart, her noticing my plight, and thinking of a way to brighten my day. I was a little sheepish about how pathetic I was, but oh well.
Today after lunch, the girls and I tried some, and wow, was it decadent! They are chocolate chip cookie brownies. Andrea found the recipe here. As you can see from this picture, they induce giddiness. I'm not even kidding, Delaney and I sat at the table giggling after eating one of these things. Annie was allowed to have a few little bites, but she likes PB&J better.
And now I sit here, the girls are in bed, and I'm waiting for eggs to boil for their Easter baskets (one thing I know I won't screw up!). I'm thinking of all the things I'm happy about tonight: good friends, beautiful weather, a clean kitchen and dinner OUT with my two sweet little girls. Happy Easter, everyone!