• A Short Story WHY I Don’t Bake •

Every Christmas, I sit back and marvel at the cookies, pies & cakes all of you bake. The icing “just so”, the flawless presentation, and the cheer your treats bring to others

As I marvel, I am gently reminded why I do not belong to your gifted clique

Years ago, I embarked upon the journey to become a home baker. I knew my creativity was limited, so your skills of “pastry chef” were off the table for me

I read. I searched. I interviewed. I dabbled. Finally, it was time for me to put my knowledge into something I loved with all of my heart…. PIZZA

I meticulously measured the yeast…

Kneaded the dough…

Carefully, I placed the damp cloth over the dough, and set the timer, for hours away…

I was so excited!!

I would peak under the corners of the cloth, just to watch the magic happening…

Hours later, the timer sounded

With the excitement of children on Christmas morning, Xan and I pulled out the pizza stone, carefully spread the dough, gently spooned the marinara — careful not to tear the dough, and added our shredded cheese blend

It looked WONDERFUL!!

We placed the pizza stone into the oven, turned on the timer, and breathed in every ounce of baked pizza smell

As we watched the dough rise, the edges become golden brown, and the cheese-melt blending perfectly across the top, we…