I used to love to bake.
I baked pies, sweet bread, whole wheat bread, and cookies.
I even baked my own wedding cake!
The reason I don’t bake anymore is quite simple: I eat ALL of it. Hubs maybe gets one cookie. Or, HE eats all of it and it’s not good for him to live on cookies!
I bake about once a year now.
But I as I am looking for something to do on cold days, I decided to make banana bread this weekend. Now when I told my dear Loved One this, his eyes lit up!!
We even bought a new hand mixer as my old one was from 1976, an avocado colored Sunbeam!
We looked up a recipe on the Food Network (the Macy’s clerk told us to do that), went shopping for all the stuff, as we had none in the house, and I got to work.
I mixed, stirred, measured, and put the bread into the oven.
Now, as things have it, I don’t use the oven.
So I don’t know how to use timer, and I set it for minutes, not an hour. Of course it started beeping.
I couldn’t hear it, because I didn’t have all my ear hardware on!
After hubs informed me of the beeping, I set the microwave timer, instead. Problem solved!
There is an end to this story, and that is, the middle of the bread is RAW!
I didn’t bake it long enough!
Now the baked part tastes yummy!
I only ate 2 pieces so far, and so there is plenty of raw dough left for him!
I like baking because I can mix things up and have them come out into something good to eat! It’s fun, like a science project!
Hubs and I decided it would be good if I baked something once a month.
If I were still drinking, my Loved One and I wouldn’t be joking about baking very much. We’d be arguing about my drinking, my hiding.
|Note Written By Wendy to Wendy|
Now we can be our silly selves, the lovers and friends we were meant to be, like we were way back when we met in high school.
I love being home when he gets home.
I love giving him a hug after his hard day at work.
There is a freedom in sobriety that I cannot express in words.
I never knew it could be this wonderful.
I don’t say this lightly. It wasn’t easy to get sober, and I often struggled.
But with each day, I find the secret held within; it is pure joy to be sober.
With Flour on the Floor and Dough on the Walls
On Day 466