The devil's in the batter

I am hoping that no one going to our church Christmas event reads my blog before tomorrow. Otherwise, we will have a lot of questionable chocolate chip cookie brownies leftover.

It was doomed from the start.

Because everything I touch lately seems under a curse of doom.

And women's ministry is destined to destroy me.

I volunteered to make chocolate chip cookies for our Christmas tea. Wanting to offer the freshest cookie possible, a treat above reproach, a treat that would silence the critics (and anyone in women's ministry knows that the critics are generally everyone within a twenty square mile radius of your event). ... (And silencing them is impossible.) ... (Just telling it like it is), I put off baking them until tonight.

For a brief backstory: my mother actually volunteered me to bake chocolate chip cookies because in her opinion I make the world's best. There are not a lot of things for which I suffer pride, but cookies are one. The following occurrences are therefore either a) discipline from my God for the mortification of my pride or b) a spiritual attack from the forces of darkness set to deter me from my spiritual duty of baking sweet treats.

I decided to one and a half my recipe. I thought this would maybe leave a few cookies for my dear husband. The trouble was five-fold:

1. Not enough brown sugar. The brown sugar I did have was sugar-glued into the bottom of the container and required me to chip it out in entirely appetizing chunks. When I whipped it into the batter, there were delightful little lumps of tooth-chippingly hard crystallized sugar.

2. I doubled the eggs and vanilla. I had been one and a halfing everything else. I looked quizzically down into the bowl wondering why it was so soupy until I glanced at the two egg shells beside me. Oh. Right. Snot-rocket. (What? I'm raising a two-year-old. My cuss words have to be creative.)

3. Not enough flour. I needed four cups. I had two and a half. Ever the improvising artist, I decided to substitute Bisquick for the rest of the flour. ... Not entirely interchangeable.

4. I did not have enough semi-sweet chips. I used some milk chips instead. Okay, really no worries here.

5. I was changing a diaper when the timer went off. It didn't matter anyway. My generally fluffy, airy, decadent cookies were tissue paper thin, crumbly, and dark brown. Grrr. The next batch I just spread in a pan and prayed for the best.

They look survivable, but I make no promises as to edibility.

So what do you think: discipline, attack, or natural consequences of my own stupidity?