Mrs. Cookie Dumonster

Nothing much to report today, I baked cookies after school and that's it.

The hubby opened the front door just as I was pulling the cookies out of the oven. Me. Wearing a dress. Under an apron. With a tray of cookies. When did I become Lucille Ball?

Photo comes from Rachel Held Evans

If you told me last year I'd end up in a kitchen making cookies I'dve slapped yo bitch ass.

But hard as it is to admit, being a housewife can be really... fun. Even though the battle against female stereotypes has become cliche (in fact even the anti-stereotype is now cliche, just turn on the TV!) I still find it hard to openly admit I like being in the kitchen. I may not be great at cooking, but my husband can't tell because he never had Pinoy food before. Poor guy. Heh heh. 

I used to call him the "Dumonster", a playful dig on his last name. And after taking his first bite of my soft and chewy cookies he turned into the Cookie Dumonster!

Pre-oven. Taken ten minutes before H arrived.

Post-Dumonster. Some cookies disappeared before I could take a pic.

We ate more than we should've. H munched on some with coffee, me with chocolate milk, while we sat on the sofa and decided whether it was better to take a helicopter over Paris or bungee jump over a cold river. And then we finished them all off after dinner! If it helps, we only had green salad and crabsticks, and hot tea.

I am Mrs. Cookie Dumonster.

And, um, yeah, we're jumping off a bridge on Monday next. Will the elastic cord snap from our weight? Abangan.