I'm sorry, hang on a minute... here I was choking down the smell of mayonnaise in my hair (hair issues, I tell you about another day), thinking I could sit here and quickly tell you this story, but NO! Madisen is home sick today and somehow she has managed to get a dog bone stuck in her fine, long, blonde hair. A DOG bone! How the heck does that happen? All I have to say is Eww! It was one of those soggy nasty chewed on dog bones. You know the kind the dog will be smacking his lips on next to you and you cringe and gag at the thoughts of touching it, to get it away so he'll stop. That kind! I swear I threw up a little in my mouth trying to get that out. Okay, now that I have completely ruined my train of thought and everyone's appetite for the day, let's get back to the cookies.
Now where were we? Oh yes, I was out of sugar! So, knowing somewhere in my many recipe books there is a chart for substitutions, I knew not to panic. ( If Jason were home telling this he would say, you had no need to panic, because I offered to go to the store for you.Yet he would fail to tell the part how I knew he was tired and refused to let him go.) Instead of wasting time waiting on him, or searching through my books I just quickly called my mom to ask. Continuing on with my cooking, Jason decides to pipe in, with his know it all advice. "There's no such thing as substitutes! How about I substitute the sugar in your morning coffee? You'll ruin the cookies! Just let me go to the store"....blah blah blah...I know EVERYTHING!!! So, I guess Betty Crocker really isn't the Almighty cookbook, it's just full of useless false crap! Whatever, I just kept on cooking. Frustrated with him harping at me across the house, I sat the bag of morsels on top of the stove, while I looked for a pan. My morsels would be the last ingredient to throw in, and then I could take out my frustration, throwing gob balls at the pan. Yet, as I opened the bag the night got even worse. All my morsels were completely melted and stuck to the bag. Oh, I was so mad! Scraping them out anyways I figured they melt in the stove anyways, who cares. All that mattered is if they tasted good. Once the first batch came out they weren't exactly Chef Emeril Lagasse presentable, in fact they looked like creamy peanut butter pancakes. No sign of a morsels or resemblance to a chocolate chip cookie, but I was confident the taste would over come appearance.
I threw my second batch in the over and headed to distribute my slaved over goodies. Kailey who had obviously overheard the dispute earlier, took one tiny bite and said, "all I taste is brown sugar, I'm not eating that!". (That's okay, I'll remember that the next time I disagree with your daddy's punishment. I'll teach her to pick his side! Little twerp! ) Next guinea pig, was Jason. Before he could even finish chewing he blurts out. "It's not too good, all I taste is brown sugar." That was it, I thought!! I didn't say a word just walked right to the trash and threw in the entire batch of warm cookies. As I looked up I could see a look of panic come across Jason's face. I swear it was like all the blood had rushed out of him. His face was white as though he had just seen a ghost.
Okay, at this point of the story I want you to imagine an episode of Dukes of Hazard where they pause the scene, in suspense of what tragic is about to happen next. Now, tilt your head in wonder, because we are about to go back in time for a moment:
It's I'd say about August or so of 1995. Jason and I were young, in our pre-children days, living in a tiny apartment in Arizona. In love and eager to please, I had worked all day, come home cleaned our place, prepared a nice dinner, and made his favorite, A Carrot cake with cream cheese frosting. I was so excited for him to come home to enjoy all I had prepared. After dinner I pull out the cake I had made, and he takes one look at it and says "Hmm, it doesn't look like the cake on the box?" Can you guess what happened to the cake? That's right it went straight to the trash! Its iced perfection didn't have one blemish from a knife. He didn't even get to lick the crumbs off the pan. If you don't think that's bad enough, I didn't bake another cake for 10 long years!!! Seriously!
Now, back to the night of the cookies~
He very quickly saves him self! Proclaiming he was going to try them cold the next day, I should have never tossed the first batch. By God let me tell you, he has already ate (choked down) all but two halves of that second batch! Yet, here's the kicker of the story. I tried the cookies while he was gone. Although I wish I could say, they weren't all that bad, but I can't. They are Barf -a- luscious!!! Still I will never tell him that. I get way to much enjoyment out of seeing him trying to finish them off. "Awe"...It's one of life's little pleasures!