Mud

I was totally thrown by this project. My mind was stuck on the idea of how different we experienced things as a kid (per my conversation with Beth before class). All I kept thinking about was when I was a kid and me and this girl down the street used to make mud pies. She had this giant sandbox with a big truck bed hatch on poles over it. We would dig to the dirt underneath and put the dirt and some water in these little baking tins her mom had given us to use in the sandbox. Then we would find bugs, the bigger the better. We would put the big ones in the middle and sprinkle the little bugs on top. When we had baked them, sometimes in the sun on top of the truck shell but in the oven if it wouldn't harden fast enough, we would then present them to her dad. He would prentend to eat them, was most complimentary when their was a big bug, and once we even got him to eat the head off a cricket.

Maybe that experience has effected my baking abilities because I can't make cookies to save my life. From scratch, from fancy expensive tubs kid's peddle for school fundraisers, from the 'dumby-proof' pre-packaged individually scooped refridgerated stuff -- all hockey pucks. So I scooped up some dirt out of my side yard and molded it with my bare hands, like I did back then when getting dirty was great and what kids did, and I baked it. Another hockey puck. Ahhh, just like homemade!