Today I got my domestic Goddess cookbook and went to make my first dish as a domestic goddess, which involved melted butter. I left it on the counter long enough to go into the sewing room to turn off the iron, during which time, Earl's finely honed butter senor went off and he knocked the melted butter onto the kitchen floor and kitchen rug, where it soaked in quite nicely. Randi and Clark quickly came to Earl's aid in cleaning up said butter renversement and all three of them were happy campers when I walked back into the kitchen. Unable to ascertain through any reliable method the amount of butter that was procured by Earl, I was forced to melt another 1/2 cup, which I then guarded closely until I used it to cook.
Earl must be the third son of Paula Deen. What else could possibly explain his fascination with butter?
Tomorrow Clark and Sarah have to go and get shots. Not gonna lie, I'm nervous about what kind of mischief the puppies will get in while we're out. Maybe they won't even notice, but I can't imagine that.
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