i can throw no stones

in answer to the question, 'do bad cooking days happen at roundtree cottage?' i give a most emphatic yes. today was just such a day, the rest of it happened to be pretty well a pooper too, so this was just icing on the cake. the meal i planned: grilled lamb ribs, grilled butternut squash, and grilled ears of sweet white corn on the cob. the meal i got: flaming lamb ribs, squash hockey pucks, greasy smoked corn. it was going to be a beautiful treat for my husband (the lamb lover) for whom every menu item is a favorite. plus no pots or pans for me! the simple prep: mix marinade as follows in a food processor juice of one lime, 1/4 onion, 4 cloves garlic, 1 table spoon dried crushed mint, salt, pepper, cumin, cinnamon, olive oil. put ribs and marinade in plastic bag, go to church. here's the first hiccough, we couldn't find the church we were aiming at going to for the first time with high hopes today. by the time we walked in on a funeral and circled Folsom for an hour we missed services at every other church we could think of. so, strike one. we go to visit the newest little roundtree, my nephew, and in all the fluster i don't ask to hold him, again. bringing me to the stunning total of NEVER. strike two. we come home via the grocery store where i'm to aim for under 100, i spend 120, strike three. we get home with the intention of a nap, the babies successfully resist arrest and no naps are had. strike four. i take a bath and drink a beer, forgetting my book out in the living room. strike five. i dry off and go to walmart to make two measly purchases and get accosted by a weirdo demanding to know why there are no address books that will fit in her purse. strike six. we make a stab at helping my brother in law with his move, only to discover that we have no key to the new house. strike seven i come home and ask my husband to light the grill, he agrees to do such and disappears into the garage, the grill remains cold. strike eight. i light the grill, let it heat put on the squash (slightly precooked in the microwave and slathered with olive oil) and ribs. tantalizing aromas fill the air. i argue with husband about how long to cook the ribs, due to the fact that they have bones in them and i think (correctly) that this means they should cook for just a titch longer. i flip the ribs and squash, put the corn on the top rack (we like it lightly cooked, just warmed really) and go back to the husband eating garage. the neighbors start blasting pink and other club music. strike nine. i get distracted by husband and bad music and suddenly look up and see a column of smoke from the back yard. skip cursing, blowing out ribs, and washing greasy black stuff of corn. serve my husband the rack that wasn't too bad and take my fussy (all day strike ten) baby to my room to nurse and blog. urgh. if the ribs had gone maybe ten minutes bones down and five meat down, with out lighting up, this would have been a whole different story.