Theory

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I have a theory.

My theory is that Lloyd buys an abundance of bananas so that they will go brown before they can be eaten in their brilliant yellow form. 

And then. I have no choice but to bake bread.

And I choose to bake on a day when I am out of sorts, inexplicably melancholy, or otherwise lost in my own thoughts that I can't articulate. 

That day was today so I commandeered my co-chef


As Sayler stirred and mixed in the pinches and teaspoons and dashes I felt lighter.  I talked through the important details of our baking endeavor.  

I opened the mail where a delightful bridal shower invitation reminded me how full the half year ahead was going to be, and I felt lighter, still.

3 weddings, 3 showers, 3 bachelorettes (Lord, there had *better be 3 bachelorettes!) and holidays to spend with family and friends.

A summer to catch up with friends, to peruse neighborhoods and homes and prepare for a move... I think. 

I pulled myself from whatever had weighed heavy on my heart.

Sayler and I poured our batter and worries into well-oiled loaf pans, sampling the viscous mix with over-sized soup spoons. 


It is June.  

Everything is inexplicably beautiful, wonderful and with much to look forward to.

Including bachelorettes...



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