Domestically Not

Okay, domestic goddesses, time to gloat.
I have never been in the domestically-blessed group, a fact I've become comfortable with. It would seem that when the domestic ability train came through my town in my formative years, it stopped to admire my creative, artistic, domestically-proven mother. Then, satiated, it left me behind. I was okay with that until....
We have a friend who really can do it all. The majestic domestic, as we refer to her, is an amazing scout leader (3 troops), a crafter, an athlete, a quick wit, a champion gamer, and she always brings the perfect food to any social gathering. I want to be her or marry her. But that probably wouldn't work so well, so I strive to emulate her. It pains me to say I haven't been making much progress.
Then last week, I found the recipe. It promised delectable chocolate chip cookies that were healthy, too. Not only was I promised a prize-winning cookie, but the recipe said the secret ingredient would ensure that my breasts and colon would live forever! I knew this recipe would be the beginning of the new Caution. Word would spread throughout the neighborhood of my talent. My cookies would be in demand and I would gloat to the majestic domestic.
Miracle, part 1: As a person who has in the past been forced to borrow many things, including toilet paper from a neighbor, imagine my shock when I realized that I had all the necessary ingredients in my pantry, including the secret ingredient.
The recipe was impossibly easy. In a matter of minutes the most perfectly shaped cookies were in the oven. I was lost in my fantasy of Checkered swooning at my feet, my kids bragging about my baking, my former boyfriends all realizing they had indeed married the wrong women when...
Miracle, part 2: Just as the perfectly formed, enticingly aromatic cookies emerged from their bake, the MAJESTIC DOMESTIC stopped by. I would be redeemed for every domestic attempt I'd ruined. Sometimes the fates really do bless us. This was my moment to shine.
And so, I presented the perfect cookie, the key to my imminent fame, to my friend. I debated whether I would share the recipe with her when she pleaded.
She took the cookie, pleased at its warmth and then she....
SNIFFED it and announced:
"This cookie smells like a barn."

It would seem that the secret ingredient, flax seed meal, has a fairly limited shelf life. Mine expired in the spring of 2006.
My recovery is going to take a good, long while.