Making Bread

So the title here is a pun on the old 70′s slang of “bread” or “dough” meaning money. Since, I haven’t been working much since just before Christmas, the only kind of “bread” I’ve been making lately is the type you mix up in the kitchen. Well, sort of. Of course from September through most of December I worked like a mad woman and wasn’t able to do much of anything outside of “making” and sales.

Then I collapsed.

Then I rested.

That was all good.

But then, just when my 5-year-old, Eamon, was scheduled to go back to school, there was a water main break in front of his school. That knocked out the heater. That knocked out school for over a week. So for the better part of a month it was Mom and Eamon time. Then there were some other delays, the MLK holiday, then–just when I thought he’d be back to school and I’d be back to work–he got sick. Of course.

So basically I haven’t been working on making much in the way of upcycled lovelies lately. What I did decide to do was make bread. Really really bad bread. The World’s Worst Bread, in fact.

Don’t get me wrong, I didn’t set out to make the World’s Worst Bread. It seems I just have a talent for it (and you thought I could only make clothes. Peshah!).

Don’t believe me? Here’s the proof.

Eamon modeling World's Worst Bread

Just look at that fluffy goodness.

The Bottom is Even BETTER than the Top!

That expression says it all

I was so inspired by this experience that I decided to sponsor a contest: Can you make worse bread than me? (only foodstuffs allowed). Grand Prize: Bread (of course)

Honestly, I think a box of tacks would have improved not just the overall texture of this bread, but the flavor as well. Not that you could eat it. Eamon tried to take a bite (see reaction at left).

But lest you think this bread was totally inedible. I made the mistake of leaving the bread on a plate on the stove in the kitchen, then went away without shutting the kitchen door. When I returned, I found this:

Bread only a dog could love

It took me awhile to understand that the dog was able to get up on the stove and nibble at this (rock hard-n-nasty) bread. Though that doesn’t really count as an endorsement for the taste. I’ve seen this dog eat her own vomit (and worse). And really, to be prudent, we should wait a good 24 hours before we declare her “survived”.