Baking and thinking.

There is still some color left in the northeast, in spite of wind and rain.  This is my favorite.

 I decided to stay home today, and not go to the studio.  I know that sometimes I push the envelope, so I wanted to try it another way.   It was raining this morning anyway, so today seemed like a good day to do just that.

Years ago, I baked a lot of bread.  When my kids were little, I committed to not buying bread for a year, and made my own.  Since then, I have gotten away from it.  It doesn't help that the big super markets have bakeries that offer everything, without the work.
But baking bread has been on my mind.  I especially wanted to make my old stand by fave, Anadama Bread.
So since I wasn't rushing off this morning, that's exactly what I did.   I made bread.

My big worry was that I was so out of practice, that my bread wouldn't rise.

I needn't have worried.

Before long the kitchen smelled of bread baking, and it brought back a carload of pleasant memories of a kitchen I baked in a  long time ago.

One did get a little 'crazy' higher than the other.

 

It was a lovely morning, and when the bread was cooling, I took Roy for a walk.  The rain had stopped and the sun was out.

 I have been thinking a lot about my situation.  The "not knowing" is the hardest part.   I have no idea if the extraneous bone in my head will grow back or not.  The Gortex  may work, it may not.  It may protect the dura of my brain, it may not.  The Alleve twice a day may inhibit the bone growth, or it may not.  I may be able to tolerate the side effects, or I may not.

Twice now, the bone has grown back in four months,  and the headaches have become unbearable.

I guess it is understandable that I feel like there is a huge cloud over my head........will the sun break through, or will the storm return?  There is no way to know.  It could happen exactly the way it has before.  Or a miracle could happen, and it could be different.

It wears on me sometimes.

I am not sure I can even explain how I feel about it.

The only way to deal with it, I find, is to just try to live everyday as if it were the only one I have.

Because it is.

Today I made soup.  I made bread.  I kicked leaves, and walked Roy.

Today that's enough.