In Which I Bake Bread

I would be the first to confess that I do not cook. The whole idea of preparing a meal that involves more than putting pasta in boiling water or a frozen something-or-other in the oven, stresses me out. Though I once had dreams of culinary conquests, I’ve learned the kitchen is not my cozy spot. Unless, or course, it’s to eat the delicious meals that my wonderful, and oh-so-much-better-in-the-kitchen, husband has prepared.

So when I share that I have baked bread, it is a big deal. A really big deal. Huge. Enormous. Monumental.

You get the idea. Life-altering is not too strong an expression, I tell ya.

I don’t even know what got into me.

It was Sunday. There was nothing I had to do. And my friend, Kristin, shared the first installment of her new series 52 Sunday Suppers. I saw the picture of the bread.

And suddenly a domestic wind blew over me.

I was taken completely off guard. My mouth started asking questions like, “Do we have wheat flour?”; “Do we have active dry yeast?”; “What are rolled oats?”

Naturally my questions were directed at my husband, who didn’t even flinch at the craziness coming out of my mouth. He not only knew the answers, but quickly retrieved all the necessary items out of the cupboards. He is a man who knows to move quickly before I change my mind.

And then there was bread.

Warm delicious bread. That I made. I felt like a kid riding her bike without training wheels for the first time. My family practically clapped for me.

And of course, I took a few pictures along the way. It was a moment worth documenting. Because who knows if the domestic wind will ever come my way again. 😉

In surprised hope,
Shelli

P.S. If you would like recipes and encouragement to make family meal times more intentional, please check out 52 Sunday Suppers with Kristin or Susie, or at their Facebook page.

P.P.S. For my P52/SST Friends, that’s blue hour you see behind the bread in my P52 image. 🙂