just for the record

The fudge I made yesterday turned out to be a big pile of poo.

Really.

I felt all cool and domestic as I stood over the pan stirring the ingredients constantly like it said. I didn't have mini marshmallows, but no worries ~ I just cut some big ones into fourths. (Tell me this wasn't the downfall of the fudge.) (P.S. I didn't know fudge had melted marshmallows in it.) I smiled to myself (cuz the kids were upstairs so there was no one else to smile to) with the idea of surprising Greg with some fudge. All was right in my kitchen.

Ok, it wasn't really a surprise because Greg called during the day and I told him I was going to make it.

After dinner Greg said, "Let's have fudge!" It had been chilling in the fridge for long enough now ~ so let's.

I poked it with my finger and it seemed a little soft. Well, maybe that's the way it's supposed to be. I put a cutting board on top of the pan and flipped it over like a pro. Still feeling pretty dang good about myself. Then I lifted the pan and the whole pooey, gooey mess oozed all over the place.

This conversation took place:

G: So does this mean we aren't having fudge?

A: Not unless you plan on eating it with a spoon.

G: Why did you try a new recipe? Why didn't you just make your tried and true recipe?

A: It's from (insert famous company here). How could it be wrong?

G: Well, you should just make what you've always made.

A: I've never made fudge before. I don't have a recipe.

G: Everyone's made fudge. You've never made fudge before?

A: No.

But I can rock a Texas sheet cake, chocolate chip cookies, pumpkin bread, and banana bread like nobody's business! Just not the fudge.