Making bread

I don't often make bread. With five bakeries within a few minutes walk it seems a bit silly.

And unlike when I was first in France the bakers do much more than just plain baguettes.

We even get that wonderful yeast smell of baking bread coming through our window when the breeze is right.

But they don't do Annadama bread and they don't do molasses oatmeal. Thus today I baked a loaf, six muffins for my landlady plus we had fry bread for lunch.

When I lived on the Riverway I'd often bake bread on Saturday.

There's nothing like kneading to take out your frustrations. Sometimes I imagined people's name who gave me problems during the week on the bread and would punch it extra hard.

Then I'd fry a bit for Llara and myself for lunch.

Today I didn't need a breeze to have the perfume of baking bread in my kitchen. And since life is so wonderful, kneading is just that kneading, not an outlet for frustrations.

I don't have any.