These days of late winter I'm lovingly dubbing the cat days of winter. I've never spent this much time with my guys. This time could be called the book days or the baking days just as well. Yesterday I read a book. The day before I baked bread. It was more than turning out a loaf with my rotten fruit though. I took on, tweaked and perfected my banana bread. My regular recipe's been bothering me. Then Lily came home from a friend's recently declaring her mother's banana bread the best and it became a mission to regain my title. I used to make the best. I've determined it's not just about what goes into the bread, but definitely add a little lemon juice. It's also about not over-mixing it and baking it in a greased metal pan low and slow. It 's not lost on me that finding the perfect recipe: combining just the right ingredients and technique is a fitting metaphor for life.
I'm going to admit that these days of nurturing comfort have been a gift. I'm not bored. I don't have cabin fever or ants in my pants. I would happily live this way indefinitely if it weren't in the best interest of my family to resume bringing in some bacon not just cooking it. If I win the lottery, I'll shamelessly put my job search on hold and be perfectly happy reading, writing, cooking, walking and just taking care of my house and my family indefinitely or forever.
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