{ warning: 'homemaking' attempts in progress }

For legal purposes, there should be a loud siren, obnoxiously bright blinking lights, and a squadron of well-built men ready to aid the evacuation process every time I pull out the cook book. Although, I'll admit the latter of the three would be more for my viewing pleasure than actual necessity. {I'd be making more home-cooked meals- that's for sure.}

Okay, okay, I'm not terrible. I would say that I'm average. It's when I try to be amazing that things go wrong. I tried to make amazing pumpkin soup- threw the ENTIRE pot down the disposal. Tried to "spice" up tuna and macaroni salad- I was the only one that would come within 9.72 feet of it. And the meals I do make that taste good are a far cry from "pretty". Betty Crocker would not be bringing her photography crew over any time soon, that's for sure.

So let me tell you about my recent disaster escapade in the kitchen.

Once again, I was trying to get 'creative'. I kinda wish my track record had flashed in front of my eyes before I continued. My cousin {other than Camryn} and I were making caramel apples for Halloween. We were trying to be good mothers and have amazingly glorious traditions that our children will look back on and think that we are the most wonderful mothers ever to walk the earth. You know, those kind of traditions. We purchased our loot at two {yes, two- our first shopping adventure left us caramel-less} different stores and began the process.

My cousin began dipping her apples and made them super gorgeous and proceeded to add chocolate to them. See, she can be creative without it backfiring in her face, why can't I?! I was hoping her luck of creative culinary creations would rub off on me.

But I had to change mine up a bit. Mr. Smith HATES apple peels. They irritate his teeth, or rub funny on them, blah, blah, b...l... *snore*

So me, being The Most Amazing Wifey In The World, decided to peel the apples first. Cuz I'm Awesome that way. And then I decided to cut them up and do bite-sized caramel covered apple pieces. Sounds delightful, huh?

WARNING: CARAMEL INDEED DOES NOT STICK TO APPLE FLESH. AT ALL.

It sluffed off the apple like slime off a slug. So I dump all the pieces into the pan of melted caramel. Perhaps the caramel would cool and harden around it if the pieces were immersed in this confectionary goodness and left in the fridge for a while.

The Next Day . . .

Still sluffing.

I decide to get monstrously creative. {I know, the warning lights were going off in my brain too, but I couldn't waste this heavenly marriage of apples and caramel.} I made a pie crust.

I cooked the pie crust.

I reheated the caramel and apples.

I whipped up some heavy cream till light and fluffy, then folded into the caramel mixture.

Lo and behold . . . {insert heavenly choirs of angels singing here}, I have created the caramel apple chiffon pie.

H A L L E L U J A H!!!

Okay, I really don't know the calorie intake on a slice, nor do I want to know. This thing was so stinking sweet, yet so divine that I kept going back for another "bite". So even though I think I'll tweak it a bit more, here's the lovely 'turning lemons into lemonade' recipe:

The Mean Mommy Caramel Apple Chiffon Pie

So, even though it started out as a disaster, I'm kinda glad my sweetheart doesn't like apple peelings, otherwise I would not have discovered some truly divine-ness. Now we just have to work on him not liking pie crusts. The next morning I found this:

Do you notice something missing? Look closely. Around the edges. Oh wait! You don't see any edges? Maybe that's because Mr. Smith PULLED OFF THE FREAKING CRUST AND ATE IT!!

Which brings me to my next subject- This month I plan on paying tribute to the men in our lives who like to watch football, forget to take out the trash, make their wives peel their apples, come up with insane reasons for their behavior {i.e. crust harvesting}, etc. I am dedicating all of my posts this month to:

Husbands.

In particular, mine.

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Enjoy your weekend!

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{ps- are your Halloween decorations still up, too? And how many pieces of candy have you stolen borrowed eaten from your child's stash?}