With my father, last night:

(Dad)  "Where are Gramma's cookies!?"

(Me)  "If the containers in the kitchen are empty, I guess they're gone."

(Dad)  "YOU MADE MORE. I SAW."

(Me)  "Those are for Miles."

(Dad)  "Where are they?"

(Me)  "They're not for you."

(Dad)  "WHERE. ARE. THEY!?"

(Me)  "THEY'RE. NOT. FOR. YOU."

His inner diva came out then, as he stomped from the room and sulked for the rest of the evening.

With my brother, last night:

(Charlie)  "Say, you're kind of a shrimp, aren't ya?"

(Me)  "I don't think that's the case at all."

(Charlie)  "No?"

(Me)  "No, that's you, if anything. When you were young, I'd always say to myself, 'Now, there's one shellfish little boy.'"

I was really the only one who found that funny...but I giggled at it all night.

With my mother, weeks ago:

(Mom)  "Your hair is getting so dark!"

(Me)  "Don't I know it—isn't it depressing?"

(Mom)  "Not at all; I think it suits you."

(Me)  "Naturally you'd say that; I'm slowly adopting your coloring."

(Mom)  "You've never forgiven me for giving you that mismatched eye, have you?"

(Me)  "..."

(Mom)  "But it makes you unique!"

(Me)  "You probably had the hiccups while the genes were deciding what should go where, heh. My left eye is a Michelangelo and my right is friggin' a Picasso!"

For the rest of that afternoon, she was unable to look at my face without erupting in laughter.

With my husband, yesterday:

(Miles)  "Oh, by the way, the Upton Photography site is basically right on. They want the camera replaced with something non-photography and it's done."

(Me)  "...Replaced with something non-photography!? Well what the heck!?"

(Miles)  "I thought you'd get a kick out of that, lol..."

(Me)  "No wonder this client has been a nightmare! I've been working on the assumption that photographers would want to advertise that they take pictures! What was I thinking!?"

(Miles)  "Yeah, that wasn't too smart, Honey. Hah! I love you!"

Let's just say that he's lucky that he's already my alpha and my omega.

Conversationally last night, I told Miles that I updated mlphillips.

"Just so you know, I updated the site just now...wrote about the cookies I made for you."


"Yummy!"


"I whipped it up in about 10 minutes including picture re-sizing and creating a recipe card...so it's probably more of a ramble than anything."


"Eh...that's you. You ramble."


"Hey!"


"It's cute. It's the you everybody knows and loves."


"Hmm..."

I imagine he patted himself on the back, took a swig of Pepsi and large bite of pizza, then sighed around a full mouth, "Nice save, Miles."

A conversation with Dad:

"So these cookies..."


"Yes, Dad?"


"They've got more healthy stuff than bad, right?"

(is this question coming from my father!?)

"W-w-well...I-I..It's..."

(his expression was so hopeful)

"Just wondering...?"


"Well...there's the fiber from the oatmeal..."


"Yeah!"


"...and the potassium from the bananas..."

(Have I mentioned Sarah?—lol)

"Yeah!—and chocolate chips!"

(Clearly he was missing the point. I considered the chocolate chips...)

"Uh...yes, and the uh...copper...from the chocolate chips..."


"Say, why is it that dogs can't have chocolate? Is it the copper?"


"I wouldn't know, Dad."


"So these cookies..."


"Yes, Dad?"


"They're good for you?"


"Hmm...I suppose they could be worse...?"


"Good, because I had about 5 handfuls of them last night."

Saturday found my family snowbound. Family togetherness gets old really fast. To improve the situation, mom enlisted my help to make a pie. Apple pie. Some of you may remember my ardor and devotion to apple pie. My saintly mother!

The pie was a series of shortcuts—frozen pie crusts, canned apple filling. I didn't care. It was PIE. Besides, our pie's form negated any unoriginality in the ingredients! That's right, we spat in the eye of convention and make our pie in a 9x12 inch Glad OvenWare dish. Oh yeah. We define elegance.

We rolled the leftover pie crust pieces with cinnamon and sugar and placed them in a second ovenware dish. The rolls went into the oven, to the rack beneath the pie.

For meager moments we knew bliss. We dreamed of the treats to come...then, there came the smell. Acrid, offensive smell. I rushed to the oven and opened the door to find the second ovenware container melting upon the rack. Shocked, panicked, I squeaked, "Mom...! Mom...!" (Meanwhile she's returning, "What...? What...?" but I was too angst-ridden to understand.)

Eventually, tiring of our game, Mom came to the kitchen. "Mom...! Pan...! Melting...!" Amidst my sputtering, she peered in the oven.

"Oh...! Pan...! Melting...!" came her squeal. She pointed toward the sink, gesturing for me to throw the wreck there. We cleaned the mess, and checked the other ovenware container.

It was whole and unmelted as I raised it above my head to locate the container instructions. With a sardonic laugh, I read aloud,

Place on cookie sheet.
Place on middle rack.
Use one Glad OvenWare container at a time.

Mom chuckled and responded, "So basically....we did nothing right."

"Basically."

"That last mlphillips post is so funny!"

"Nah. I think you're just relieved that I didn't publicly chastise you for breaking your posting promises over the past week."

"Exactly."

"Thought so."