I volunteer at E's school every other Monday, and as I was driving there yesterday, I noticed that my hands were coated in flour. I'd quickly pulled together the dough for a loaf of Buttermilk Bread and stuck it in a warm oven to rise on my way out the door. In the car, seeing that I'd only dusted my hands off, the flour that stuck between my fingers and in my wedding ring gave me a little thrill.
You see, when I think about what I really want to do, and how I want to make people happy, it's bake. I want to do it today, this weekend, after the baby is born (to have a routine, to feel sane), and then when she's in school. It's what I want to read about before I go to bed, and what I always want on my kitchen counter. Fresh-baked bread. It calms me and gives me purpose, the purpose I'd hoped to find almost a year ago when I left the workforce, and it nurtures others, too.
All photos my own, taken of goodies I've baked in the past year.