I was going to make some pumpkin bread to bring to Thanksgiving dinner. I copied the recipe down by hand from my mother’s Betty Crocker cookbook which is baptized in shortening splatters. I was looking forward to ridding myself of the four pounds of pumpkin puree in my freezer. Last week I even checked to make sure I had enough flour in the cupboard.
Then last night I looked at my dirty dishes in the sink and I didn’t want to wash them. And I thought about driving to the grocery on Thanksgiving Eve to buy shortening and shuddered. But mostly I knew that if I baked a loaf of pumpkin bread, I would eat half a loaf of pumpkin bread before Thursday morning. I would tell myself not to. I’d believe that I could restrain myself. But who am I kidding? If I bake a loaf of pumpkin bread I’m going to eat half of it in a day. That’s just who I am.
So I put away the recipe and stuffed the thawed pumpkin back in the freezer. I’m glad I made that choice. I’m glad I realized that even though I planned to bake pumpkin bread days in advance and borrowed my mother’s bread pans that it wasn’t too late to turn back.
I wish I could make pumpkin bread and not eat it, like making an ash tray out of clay even though I don’t smoke. It’s fun to create something. See! I made this! Isn’t it puh-rty? Doesn’t it smell good? And why aren’t you using my lopsided ash tray? I may not smoke, but I inhale pumpkin bread.
You have to know who you are. Then you have to deal with it. Sometimes this means you don’t get to make pumpkin bread. But I will eat what I want to today (in reasonable portions). Then I am going to run. A lot. Because that’s who I am.
Since it is the day to give thanks, thank you! Thanks to all my lovely readers! I love that you know what a cherimoya is even when I don’t. I also love writing so much that I would probably be rambling on this here blog even if no one was reading, but I do love that there are people out there reading. Have a happy holiday!