Quiche Fail: Or How I Utilized My Corporate Training to Overcome Common Household Disasters

Confession 1: This is the second time Dr. Strangelove has been referenced in a blog title here at Herecomesmybabyledbetter, but let's face it, it's a great title format.

Confession 2: Today I experienced a DRAMATIC and SPECTACULAR domestic failure.

Failure it seems, is often preceded by the illusion of success. After another day on the job, the afternoon continued with a sunny walk with the ladies. A good time was had by all.


Following the walk, Cleo and I came home and enjoyed her snack and a cuddle. In preparation for Cal to come home, I decided to make a quiche for dinner. Cleo played in her bouncy seat and I narrated the action.

"Cleo, this is how you blind bake a crust."
"Cleo, now I'm sauteing vegetables."
"Cleo, now I'm grating cheese."
And so on.

Too all appearances, we were experiencing domestic bliss. And then I had quiche fail. While putting my glorious quiche into the oven, I somehow dropped it while it was half-way onto the rack. It immediately dumped over, spilling the contents all over the oven door. Eggs and vegetables sizzled on the door, and oozed slowly out the bottom of the oven, spreading all over the floor.


Confession 3: I temporarily panicked, struck with a mixed urge to simultaneously laugh and cry. Cleo sensed my ire, and looked on anxiously.


Quickly I regained my senses and it occurred to me that I'm a capable lady, and if spending years in a corporate environment has taught me anything, it is how to leverage my resources, and how to unleash the potential of others to facilitate my passions. Or something like that.

Confession 4: I knowingly risked the health of Dan (via exposure to potentially salmonella infected raw eggs) in the name of "leveraging my corporate resources." But I felt it was a measured risk, as dog immune systems are tougher than ours when it comes to foodborne cooties. Cal insists that Dan eats poop, so my confidence level in Dan's ability to avoid illness is high.


Dan, you are my hero. I promise to make no disparaging remarks about you for at least one week. I love you.