Lessons in Domesticity

Shannon is my name, but domesticity is not my game... At least not yet!

As embarrassing as this is, last night was my first experience “truly” cookie baking. Okay, not even TRUE (from scratch), but the kind where have to use a rolling pin, flour, cookie cutters, parchment paper, wax paper, spatulas and the oven. Oh and, pre-made cookie dough. You might be thinking that this sounds like simple baking, but to a girl who didn’t grow up cooking or spending much time the kitchen, this was quite the ordeal.

I’m planning a women’s breast health event and in preparation I wanted to make bra and panty cookies for the attendees to decorate. Baking became a bit more difficult when the Facebook RSVP list was over 300. But let’s be realistic, most people don’t actually attend even when they say they will on a social media site. Regardless of the daunting number, I went to the grocery store and bought all the necessary items. Wait, no, I had to make three trips to get everything because baking is so out of the ordinary to me.

So here’s the breakdown:

A college girl without a rolling pin – typical.

The girl next door who suggests I use a wine bottle – brilliant.

It took a while for me to realize that I needed a ton of flour so the dough wouldn’t stick to the bottle and for the spatula to successfully pick up the tiny bra and panties without catastrophe.

A bottle of wine, a few friends and six hours later, the cookies were done. Unfortunately I’m not exaggerating about the time it took either. But I am accounting for the few hours I wasn’t using the makeshift rolling pin and was flattening the dough by hand.

What’s the moral of this story? I should attempt to do things that are out of my element a bit more. The only way to become a professional or call something a hobby is to practice. I’m even thinking about asking for cooking lesson for Christmas. As minuscule as that task was, I learned a lot. Improvisation is key and I’m ready to do so more often.