I Dreamed a Dream of Pumpkin Bread
Moonshine will not stop making pumpkin bread. Sure, she gives some of it away but the rest we eat for breakfast or snacks. I justify that by saying we don’t buy cookies and it’s a better snack than something processed from the store, but she seriously has to stop making it.
Sometimes I like to feel sorry for myself because of my life choices, things I’ve done, stuff that’s happened. I like to dip my toes in Lake Depression and let it wash over my feet, being very careful to not let myself get dragged in because the water’s very warm.
Just a toe, then a foot, maybe up to the ankle and then I reach for a life-preserver because I remember that my life is not bad. I have an amazing life and awesome family and friends and I don’t live in 1800’s France.
Yes, folks, I saw Les Mis again. I might have been the only person on the planet who didn’t even know the story before and now I’m obsessed. With the music, the movie, the tragedy, the dirty faces, the clothes, the awful teeth, the death, the starving, the plumbing. I’m so fortunate that I don’t know what it is to be starving. And while I’ve had to be creative with some back of the cupboard choices, my children have never gone hungry, although I’m sure they think they’ve been.
I took French for three years in high school and I went to Versailles and the gluttony at the time while the people were starving makes me sick. And yes, I’m not an idiot and I know Les Mis was no documentary, although I’m for more singing in everyday conversation, I also know people did have to live like that. Then I look around at my life and thank God every day he put me here with these kids in this time while a single mom with three kids is across the world struggling a million times more than I do.
And I wish Moonshine would make pumpkin bread to feed the world because she’s really, really good at it.