Having another busy week here, just like everyone else is, I'm sure. I came home from campus today to a rather interesting scene in the kitchen. My daughter and her fiancee are headed out of town this weekend to visit his parents for Easter. Newly engaged, she wants to bring treats to her soon-to-be inlaws, so she decided to make batch of cinnamon rolls. These ones, to be exact (thank you Pioneer Woman). I walked in to find a lake of butter running off a dough-covered countertop while she squealed with delight at her sister, who was providing moral support from her dorm room up north. Thank goodness for iPhones and headsets! (I guess?). Peals of laughter greeted me as I walked in and surveyed the scene. She promises she'll read the recipe all the way through before beginning next time.
Then THIS caught my attention:
That's my big quilting ruler. In the sink. Covered with butter, sugar, flour - things of that nature.
"I was going to wash it, it's plastic, it will come clean easy with soap and hot water!"
I feel about my ruler the same way I feel about my good fabric shears, or my double-Henckel's kitchen knives....the ruler is meant for fabric, not cinnamon roll dough. Sure enough, it does come nice and clean and it is back where it belongs. Who knew it could be re-purposed as a kitchen implement to ensure correct rolled dough size?! Okay, I really didn't react a whole lot, but I was a bit surprised, just the same.
The cinnamon rolls taste awesome. The mess is gone. All is well!
And I really need to spend some time in my sewing room!