I have no idea what I'm doing

Well, my mum's lefse was like, this close to being a big, huge, hilarious disaster. I went to go help her cook it around 6pm, to find that she had used a different recipe, which she got from like, Mars or something. I don't know. But whoever wrote it was clearly on crack, and had decided that two cups of flour for ten pounds of potatoes was enough. Basically what she had was really sticky mashed potatoes. What it's supposed to be, according to the recipe that my grandmother uses, which was passed down through the family and was used during the Black Hills gold rush, because it's that fucking old, is sticky dough. But it's the kind of recipe that my mum hates, because there are no absolute measurements. You take your mashed potatoes, add some milk, let it chill so you can put your hands in it, and then continue to add flour until you can knead it like dough, and then add a little bit more for good measure. I had my grandmother write it down for me once, and that's more or less what she put on the card for me.

Mum didn't like that, so I spent about an hour fixing her sticky mess before we were even able to start rolling it out. We did not finish cooking it until after 10pm. I am so done. Ten pounds of fucking potatoes. And then it didn't even cook right because she used her Martian recipe and put butter in it. Seriously, I'd love to see how this person manages to roll out their sticky mashed potato mess, because there was no fucking way.