The first inkling I had that I suck at home ec, as we called it, where home ec is anything associated with the old notion of being a woman (cooking, sewing, etc.), was in high school when I sewed a pair of pajamas for Home Ec class and the pajamas would not conceivably fit anyone but a little person with three legs and one arm.
I think I got a C on that project.
My second inkling came in college when I was home for Christmas and decided to make or bake something in my mom’s kitchen, and got so befuddled by the recipe that I actually asked my sister Tina Fey, and I AM NOT MAKING THIS UP, “Which part of the egg is the yolk?”
My third inkling came when I tried to de-yolk the egg.
My fourth inkling came when I needed help making grilled cheese.
My fifth inkling came when I tried to make delicate sugar snowflake ornaments that I saw Martha Frickin’ Stewart make on her show in under five minutes, with her hands tied behind her back, and possibly while ice skating. How hard can it be, I thought, as visions of presenting co-workers with boxes of handmade sugar snowflakes danced in my head while my brain pointed and laughed at those images all, “Really?! Do you not remember the egg yolk incident?!” In the end, the kitchen looked like Tom and Jerry ran amok with a bag of powdered sugar. I was covered with hardened sugar globs and there were tears in my eyes. The result was about 60 broken snowflakes, 30 I threw across the room in anger, and five complete snowflakes that looked like a blind person went crazy with an icing squeezer.
My sixth inkling was the fact that I call that bag-like triangle thing that squeezes out icing, an icing squeezer.
My seventh inkling came when I was newly married and proudly presented my husband with a meal of spaghetti with sauce from a jar, alongside a scoop of Stove Top stuffing. I couldn’t figure out why he spent the whole meal looking like he was trying very hard not to burst out laughing. But I was pretty damn proud because STUFFING! That’s like halfway to Thanksgiving dinner.
My eighth inkling came when I was and continue to be regularly asked to bring salad and rolls to all family gatherings. That’s only half a step up from being in charge of cups and ice.
Fast forward to recent times, and you would find my four-thousandth inkling came when I decided to try to build the Rex Christmas card as seen over at Creation Rex’s site. You are simply supposed to print out the card, cut along the edges, fold and then assemble. I watched the video and despite 3,999 other evidences to the contrary, said, “I could totally do that. How hard can it be?”
It was supposed to take 15 minutes. It took me an hour.
The entire time I was building it, my son watched with wonder, saying things like, “Are you sure that’s right? That doesn’t look right. Why are you tearing that up? Do you want me to get Daddy? What is that supposed to be? Why do you need tape? His arm fell off. His head fell off. His body fell off. Why do I have to go to my room? What does that word mean? I’ll go ask Dad.”
You can go to Rex’s site to see what the little dinosaur is SUPPOSED to look like, but here is mine.
Please note that I did something wrong because all the letter tabs are on the outside. I also had to tape his hat on because I forgot to cut lines for it, and he is not holding his little Terrible Towel because his arms couldn’t withstand the weight of it.
Immediately after this picture was taken, a dust mite sneezed and blew my little Rex to pieces.
Martha Frickin’ Stewart I am not.
Also, while I was writing this post, I was watching hunky Mexican chef Oropeza make some fancy braided bread wreath crown thingies and you know, I could totally make that because how hard could it be?