Monday, October 24, 2005


Went down to visit my sister for tea yesterday afternoon. Before I went, I whipped up a batch of gougere au fromage - aka cheese puffs. I've been craving them recently, this was a good excuse to make them. I spooned them out onto a non-stick parchment like sheet that I use when baking, for easy cleanup, then put them onto a cookie sheet. So that they wouldn't slide around and make a mess while I was driving, I then grabbed the rubber mat I put underneath cakes in my Tupperware cake carrier, and put that under the non-stick sheet.

The drive down was fine, no slippage. When we arrived inside, I had her preheat the oven, and said to myself, "self, don't forget to take out the rubber mat before you put these in the oven". Well, of course, I wasn't the one to put them in the oven, so I completely forgot. After the cheese puffs were cooked, I went over to put them onto a cooling rack... and noticed the now thoroughly melted rubber mat, which I had forgotten to remove. ARGH!

Fortunately the cookie sheet had a non-stick coating as well, so the mat pulled off it reasonably easily. But really. What kind of idiot does something like that? Is it just me? (I'm looking for your anecdotes here to make me feel better :-)

Then, I forgot to use my progesterone pussary last night. I put it in this morning when I woke up (and I did get an extra half hour nap out of it, since everyone recommends lying down for a little while after insertion). I'm just hoping that I didn't majorly fuck myself. I know that most likely it won't make any difference, but can't help being just a little nervous nonetheless.

Ooooh, I just heard from my sister - she's having contractions, 5 minutes apart. Pretty soon I'll find out whether I'm an Aunt or an Uncle!


Molly said...

Reminds me of the first time we used the oven in our brand-new, just-built apartment. We preheated to throw in the frozen pizza, but didn't notice the smell until we opened the oven. Turns out the instructions and warranty for the oven were inside it, all wrapped in a nice plastic sleeve which was, by that point, melted all over the bottom of the oven. For about a year, it still smelled every time we used it. Kind of a melted-Barbie smell. Not that I melt Barbies often, but I did leave one far too close to a heat vent once.

We felt better after we found out that our beighbors down the hall did the same thing.

Dooneybug said...

Speaking of melted barbies...I used to curl my barbies hair with a real curling iron. You should have seen the smoke roll off.

How fun, you get to be an auntie soon!! (If you're an uncle, we have other issues to discuss) :)

April said...

Heh. Just two weeks ago, I went to heat up a loaf of french bread in the oven, and neglected to take the wrapper off in my exhausted state. The whole damn thing went up in flames, and you know what - I still served part of it.

Pamplemousse said...

Oh, I have too many stupid stories to start. How exciting for you that you are about to welcome a new addition to your family. Take care!

pixi said...

Ugh, I do stuff like that all the time. Just the other week I was having a hot flash and needed fresh air. I whipped open my bedroom window - the one with the air conditioner in it. Thankfully, I was able to grab onto it before it crashed two stories to the ground - literally in the nick of time.

I should give you my rubber mat. It's never been used, since I rarely cook!

Anonymous said...

I had to wait a long time to get an oven that actually worked after buying my first house. I finally got it and really enjoyed getting to bake things. About 3 weeks later I thought I would make broiled fish in a marinade. The marinade had a lot of oil in it. I had never had an oven that had to be left cracked open when broiling. The combination set my fish on fire. Fortunately I was standing nearby and saw the flames, but I did not know that closing the oven and turning it off would put the fire out. Instead I screamed "I don't know what to do!!!!" and then used the fire extinguisher. It took many, many hours to clean the powder from the oven, floor, drawers, cabinets, and refrigerator. There is still and always will be a pattern of burned on powder in the oven.

Laurie said...

First Thanksgiving, first house. I decided we should host. Not just immediate family, but out-of-town grandparents, too. We finished painting the dining room at midnight.

Of course, I was going to make everything from scratch. I found a recipe for dinner rolls in a cookbook published by my aunt's/uncle's church -- you know, one of those fundraiser things?

So I thought it was curious when the recipe called for 30 tablespoons of sugar. Why not just use a more usual measurement, like cups? I asked my DH, who didn't know what 30 Tbs of sugar would be. Finally, I shrugged and measured 1... 2... 3... 4... A couple hours later, they hadn't risen a bit. Time was running out, so I thought, well, maybe they'll rise when I bake them. I put them in the oven and they still didn't rise. They were like bready disks. Not bad, sort of a very heavy cornbread consistency, but definitely NOT dinner rolls. I apologized to everyone and we all ate them anyway. As we were eating, somehow the recipe came up. I said that I had followed the recipe exactly and didn't know what went wrong. When the 30 Tbs of sugar came up, the lightbulb went on for my dad, who then had to explain to me that it was probably a typo, that it was probably meant to be THREE tablespoons of sugar, and that I had probably killed the yeast!