When I got redressed I put my shirt on backwards and inside out. Phil didn't bother to tell me. He likes to play around with my ego. I wore it that way all night. Luckily no one came to our house. How would I have felt, not only being a slob but showing the size of my shirt too, right there for anyone to read?!
Making a cookie sheet full of buttermilk pie is tricky because you blend everything in the blender and let me tell you, it is FULL. I had the first cookie sheet, full of unbaked goo in the oven when I found the melted butter--that was supposed to be in the goo--still in the a pan on the stove. So, I opened the oven and dumped the goo into a bowl, spilling a whole lot of it on the stove door and even on the floor. I added the butter, stirred like crazy and poured it back into the pan.
I guess it worked okay but really. How Einsteinish can you get in one night? My journal entry will read: "Slob, showing shirt size--which is a whole lot of sizes bigger than she wants it to be--dumps pie filling on floor. Floor needed mopping--no one used straw to slurp up goo. Even though some slobby inside-our-shirt wearing person wanted to."