Schools Have It Right - Store Bought Goods Only

A couple of weeks ago I took dinner to a woman at church who had just had a baby. I dropped off the meal, pretended to oogle over the baby for a minute, (because really, when you've seen one week-old baby, you've seen them all), and left.

The other day, this woman brought my dishes back to me along with a heap of cupcakes. Why? It's that cursed unspoken Mormon rule that you cannot return empty dishes. See - I'm not the only one.

So I thanked her for the cupcakes and took them into the kitchen. And then I was presented with a dilemma of incomprehensible paranoia.

What should I do with the cupcakes?

I know that some of you are completely confused right now, so let me explain.

In most circumstances, I can't bring myself to eat food that comes from a kitchen that I don't trust.

Think of the kitchen and chef from which those cupcakes came. How do I know that there were no fingers licked during the frosting process? How do I know that this woman's cat is not allowed on the counters?

I don't. So I can't eat them.

I really, really wanted to because they smelled so good, and this woman is so sweet and kind. But she is an animal lover and I can't talk myself into believing that she washed her hands before she started baking and did not pet any of her feline friends while she worked.

I've been in her house and it seems clean enough, but I've never seen her kitchen. And without a guarantee that the sink was not full of dirty dishes coated in a slimy film of mold, I have to pass on the goodies. And oh, my, gosh - what if she bathes her pets in the kitchen sink? I don't care how much you bleach it afterward, that is just wrong.

If this makes you think that my house is always in a state of pristine cleanliness, you're wrong. In fact, it's not even usually spotless. Most days I would label my kitchen only passably sanitary with the impending threat of surprise inspection from the health department. I usually don't get to the dinner dishes until after breakfast the next day. Shameful, I know.

But you can bet your ass I never bake goodies for neighbor's consumption unless I have just scrubbed all the surfaces with disinfectant and a blow-torch. And you can rest assured that once I begin the cooking process I keep my fingers and my tongue separated, and I will never, ever take a taste of what I'm making off of a spoon and then use that same spoon to continue mixing.

I might furiously scratch the inside of my nose with my index finger and then move along to the next step of the recipe, but come on - sometimes it just itches.

So what to do with those cupcakes?

I decided they would make a lovely temporary decoration. They went on that glass do-hicky that I got from my grandmother.

And I let the kids eat some, because what do they care if the cake is laced with a stray cat hair or two?