This is what Taylor refers to as an Epic Fail

And that's what happens to cupcakes when you bake them for 30 minutes before realizing that the baking element in your oven has not only died, but broken clean in half. I can deal with the loss of potential delicious peanut butter cup cupcakes, but they were actually for a friend to present to his wife for her birthday, which obviously didn't work out. And that makes me extra sad.

I know it's possible to purchase a new baking element and replace it. I also know that a new baking element only costs $30-$40. I also know where said baking element can be purchased. I even know what the store hours are for the store to purchase the baking element. But what's a girl to do when she already hates the stove she has with the white hot passion of a thousand suns? The girls says "Honey, I need to buy a new stove." And well-trained Honey says "Ok."

So off we went to Home Depot to look for a new oven. I am evidently the only surviving person who hates (again, with the white hot passion of a thousand suns) the smooth top stoves. Home Depot had 2, yes 2, electric coil stoves. And both were unacceptable to me.

So we went off to Best Buy, where we found 1 electric coil stove, which was even less acceptable than the ones at HD. We happened upon a very helpful salesman who directed me to the store website where I found the perfect one. Except that it can't be here until next Wednesday. Sigh.

I guess I will have to go visit my mom and borrow her stove to re-do the failed cupcakes. I don't want to wait a week to remedy the problem - I have the frosting all prepared and waiting in my fridge.

I will have to go a week, A WEEK, without using my oven. I may cry a little bit. I do love me some baked foods.

No baked potatoes for a week? Oh, wait. I can use my crock pot. I might make it after all.

Vote Lari for Mean Mom!!

Jack had to do a Recycling presentation for his FCCLA conference on Monday. He chose to do Plarn, which is yarn made out of plastic grocery bags. He convinced Taylor to loom a hat out of said Plarn, which we stupily forgot to include in the photograph.


He did pretty well at the conference, considering neither one of us fully understood the instructions and judging criteria. He scored in the Silver range, and was given much helpful feedback so he can improve his presentation when he takes it to the state FCCLA conference. I am so impressed that he chose to be a part of this group, I didn't push him . . . or even give him a gentle nudge. He just came home one day early in the school year and announced he wanted to join FCCLA. And as far as I can tell, he's had a good experience and says he will participate again next year. Maybe he is not my son after all. I was too big a baby to ever do anything when I was in school. It's one of my many, many regrets.


It's getting to be time to psych myself up to do the taxes. I have all my paperwork now, I just have to do it. It's not a job that I enjoy - even less so than doing my checkbook, which is saying a lot - but I know I have money coming back so I better get to it soon. Taylor has a W2 this year. And since I'm auditioning for the Mean Mother title, I will make her do it herself. On paper. With a pencil. I am just that cruel. Maybe, if I'm feeling a little bit generous, I'll give her a calculator. My Mean Dad made me do my own taxes when I got my first job at 16. On paper. With a pencil. (Never mind that was the Way-Old days before Turbo Tax). Once I got done being mad about it, it was one of the best things I ever learned how to do. Yes, it was in fact the EZ form, but I was able to keep doing my own taxes - on paper, with a pencil - up until the time we bought our first house in 1996.


That should pretty much give me the title of Mean Mother. That and I took her phone away for not paying her bill. That was pretty mean too. And it's probably pretty mean to keep telling her she'll thank me one day.