.: clueless housewife chronicle :.

I'm trying to see if being a homemaker is my calling, since the graphic-designer thing didn't seem to work out lately. So far it's been quite interesting; try to take care of cactus, cactus dying, replace dying cactus with new ones to calm my conscience, trying new recipes, meal planning, change meal plans because I suddenly lost my appetite for a particular meal... You know, the usual wifey-duty. I originally thought that cooking and baking will not be super hard. I am a woman after all, supposedly it's in my genes and whatnot, right? Wrong! Cooking I'm quite okay with, but baking requires patience, organization and precision; all of which I don't have if you know me quite well.

So it all started on a bright, sunny day. All is calm, so I decided to bake scones out of the blue. I have flour, sugar, eggs, salt and milk. Yup, scones coming right up! I was confidently whipping the dough, quite happy because it smells yummy.

While comparing my dough with the picture on the recipe book, I realized my dough is too soft. I transferred it to a floured surface anyways and it became this piece of disaster:

What makes sense in my head is to add more flour. Then I realized I used up all the flour. Then I begged my beloved husband, who didn't ask for scones in the first place, to get flour. My husband, the flour-bearing hero saved the day!

After I got almost-unlimited flour, I went nuts. I put flour everywhere. When it started to resemble the picture on the recipe book, I was so relieved. And after 15 minutes there were scones to be had:

Not the best scones I've ever had, but it smells like them. Good enough for now.