In Lieu of St. Valentine's Day

I am a horrible baker. I can't bake anything to save my life.

The day I get held up in my house and demanded to bake a batch of chocolate chip cookies or Mr. Gunman will shoot me up execution style will be the day I die--execution style.

I can't bake. I can't do it. Kudos to my mother for stealing all of my baking abilities. That woman can bake the most delicious cake/cookies/bread with her hands tied behind her back, blind folded and with no electric mixer. It's fascinating.

Anytime I try to bake, my all but supportive boyfriend Stefan comically remembers the first time I baked cookies for him. The dough was dry and crumbly--it wouldn't stick together to form balls to put on the pan. I INSISTED that if I just put the batter the refrigerator that it would moisten right up and we'd have cookies in no time. The result? Said batter sat in the refrigerator for 3 weeks, maybe longer, before I realized I probably wasn't going to be making cookies again anytime soon.

Or the time when I got tired and fell asleep in the process of baking the cookies and they were charred so badly to the bottom of the brand new baking pan (With airflow technology!!) that I threw out the cookies--still attached to the pan. I've since earned the title for creating the most durable hockey pucks the Tri-City Hockey league has ever had the delight of using.

I'm just hopeless.

Stefan has challenged me to make cookies for St. Valentine's Day. I told him to pack his things and move out.

My poor daughter will never know the delight of coming home to fresh baked cookies and milk, as I did. Unless Grandma's in town!

Suck it up kid you're stuck with Hy-vee Sugar Cookies!