Sometimes… I get these waves… and I feel the need to bake. A lot.

It usually hits me in the grocery store. Probably because I see the boxes of baked goods on the shelf and my mouth waters at the thought- so I pick it up. I guess I could bake from scratch, but what’s the fun in that? I’m a boom-bang chef. I want it done- now or yesterday, whichever. So on this particular trip to Wal-Mart, I was wandering down the baked good aisle looking for something that I could make the husband for breakfast to take to work. He usually leaves in such a hurry that he only grabs a bar on the way out of the door.

Have you seen these?

Betty Crocker now makes Fiber One Muffins. You know Fiber One, they make the good-for-you but still tastes good stuff. Hubby is a HUGE fan of their bars, but they are super expensive. So I went to Costco- wholesale extraordinaire- and bought him a box of like 90. Problem solved.

So back to the muffins. They are banana nut muffins and supposedly super good for you. Now, I don’t eat banana anything. Not banana bread, not banana candy- nothing. I only like bananas right out of the peel. So I knew in making these muffins that only Hubby would be eating them. But I also know how much he likes banana goodness and so I figured he’d appreciate these. So, I bought it and threw those bad boys in the oven when I got home. Now, I must admit they smelled amazing! But never would these teeth sink into those- ever.

The other thing Hubby loves is oatmeal chocolate chip cookies. His absolute favorite. One of my favorite people on Earth and pastry chef extraordinaire (sorry, but I like that word), Val made Hubby a batch a while back before we moved. Since I’m not trained in the kitchen like she is, I scooped up a bag of this:

Did I see the part on the bottom of the bag that says “Makes 3 Dozen 2-Inch cookies”? Uhh no. If you can multiply, 12 x 3 is 36 and who the hell is eating 36 cookies? Especially since I don’t eat oatmeal chocolate chip cookies? Not my husband. Oh well, commence “make hubby’s favorite cookies.” I did lick my fingers at every chance while making these (only because I knew only my husband would be eating them, of course) and while the batter was yummy, I didn’t eat any cookies. My husband later professed that I am “trying to kill him” (because I made him stuff that I wouldn’t eat).

Oh ye of little faith, if I wanted to kill you, I wouldn’t spend all of this damn time slaving over a hot ass oven to do it. I’d just be straight up about it. I’m sure there are easier ways to kill your husband.

Anyway. The end result- was some good looking baked goods. I got the step ladder and dusted off my cake thingy (I don’t know what you call these things) cake dish? Whatever. I put the cookies and muffins in there. Felt like a real housewife for a second… only a second. Then it passed.

Take that Betty Crocker, you ain’t got shit on me… Oh wait, you’re the reason these came to be… never mind.

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