Why Blondes Shouldn't Bake

"Dave, HELP!!!" My shout is heard Saturday night from the kitchen. "Are you okay?" he starts asking as he walks down the hall to find me. As he rounds the corner, he tries hard to muffle the chuckle welling up inside of him. "What do you want me to do?" he asks. "Help me," I retort with a mixture of impatience and "did I really just do this to myself?" in my voice. He tells me to hold on as he leaves to get something to help get the beaters out of my hair (or so I assumed). He returned with a camera instead. By picture number three I was ready to kick hiim, but couldn't help but laugh at myself at the same time. I like to think of myself as somewhat of a Betty Crocker, but I'm guessing Betty never leaned over her bowl during her mixing to smell the freshly squeezed lemon juice in her batter only to have the beaters grab hold of her locks and twist them round and round into a tangled mess. Of course she didn't, Betty would have had her hair in a hair net or at least pulled back because she knows that no one likes hair in their baked goods! I guess I'm very much still in training. And in case you're wondering, the lemon ricotta cheesecake managed to come out without any traces of hair in the final product, but I wasn't a fan of the texture the ricotta gave it so I'll never make it again. That and the fact that I'm still having nightmares about being attacked by a mixer.