Bread Saga


Last night I had the strong urge to make banana bread after reading the Pioneer Woman’s recipe for her mother’s banana bread.

I thought to myself,

“I have 2 ripe bananas at home…I should make this tonight!”

(Ree Drummond’s image)

I had everything I needed on hand, except for the sour cream greek yogurt which I stopped at the store for on my way home.

I was all set.

Or so I thought.

My sweet tooth kicked in and I still had some energy in me.

It appeared as if I was all ready to go until I read that I needed 4 cups of flour. Four!

I turned in panic to my almost empty flour container and quickly estimated that I did not have a full four cups.

I thought I would try and measure it out, hoping that it would be 3 3/4 cups. Or miraculously turn into 4 from 2, like Jesus did with loaves of bread and fish.

Hey, miracles still happen you know.

But it didn’t for me. Not last night anyway.

I barely had 2 cups.

It was getting late and I didn’t want to go to the store yet again. I tried Big Fisch on his phone but of course he didn’t get the call.


Because his cell phone is from 1998 and seems to get service in only a few areas…none of which includes our house or the route he takes to and from work. Convenient.

Why does he not have an updated phone?

Because he is waiting for a new model from Verizon to be released, which keeps getting pushed back and back and BACK. It’s been 7 months we’ve been waiting!


Pardon me. Now that I got that out, allow me continue with my bread saga.

Big Fisch pulled up to the house and I realized that my only option was to go to the store for more flour since let’s face it, I doubt my neighbors have any, I gave into the defeat and concluded that this just must not be the night for banana bread.

I slowly put each ingredient back in it’s designated pantry spot and closed the door.

I turned and walked away to receive a hug from Big Fisch in my sorrow, when I heard a loud CRASH, BANG, BOOM!

Realizing the odds of a boogieman fitting in my small pantry were slim to none, I figured one of my pantry items must have been throwing a temper tantrum in it’s frustration with not being used.

(Please note the small pantry)

I opened the door to see that yes, my sugar had made quite the statement.

He fell from the top self to the floor, sending a large crack smack through middle of my container, and spilled his goods all over the floor.

It looked like a snow storm passed through my pantry.

Snow that actually tasted as good as it looked.

I concluded again that certainly, the Lord did not will for me to bake that night.

I grabbed a skinny cow ice cream treat instead and stomped off to the couch before realizing that I could have just cut the recipe in half and made a smaller portion.

Apparently I don’t like small portions.

Turns out I was just stubborn, dramatic, and impatient.

Oops. Sometimes we’ve just got our self to blame.

The end.

Try her recipe for yourself here.