The Cooker, the Baker, and Aspiring Homemaker

I’m waiting for my lemon cake to finish baking in the oven. Lately, I like cooking. Well, not necessarily cooking so much as baking. I’ve been told there is a difference.

I mix pastel colored powders with oil and eggs, and watch the ingredients swirl together to release a yummy aroma. Then I pick up the beater and free myself of any built up aggression. I pretend the islands of powder floating in the batter are problems easily snuffed out with one swipe of my mixer's blades. Consider it free therapy.

I only bake when my husband is at the office. I don’t like him anywhere near the kitchen when I work. And, because we live in a studio, that would put him on either the sidewalk or back patio. I don’t want to be that kind of wife, so I wait until he’s gone. I don’t like the TV on in the background, being disturbed, or having him “assist” me. When it’s just me, I turn down the lights, turn up good music.

Baking might be a phase. I tend to find something new that sounds fun, then a few weeks later I’m over it. Ready to move on, try something new. Or, I realize that I’m bad at it, which prompts me to find another hobby. For now, though, both of our waistlines will enjoy this phase.