I made banana-nut muffins tonight. It feels good to do something productive after a counseling session. I also ran through a light workout. I felt I needed it... I overate again. So, let's up the calories being burned, and I won't have to worry about it! lol
Anyway, it's the muffins that really made me kinda chuckle. They turned out great (no, I didn't gorge myself on them. It was potato chips--my arch-nemesis), which I'm pleased with, since it's my recipe. I just got this flashback of myself in a tiny, dingy, very brown kitchen, trying to bake my troubles away. I made banana muffins for C (among many other things), which he never really ate. But it was my way of doing something, because I was so... unhappy? unfulfilled? lonely? bored? All of the above, and then some. I was happy when C was home, but when he wasn't, I got very restless. So I baked. I enjoyed it, too. I wasn't super great, but I was okay. I could turn out some pretty good cookies and muffins, provided I had a good recipe. But it never really filled the void within (much like the potato chips do not fill the void within, but make me siiiiick).
So flash forward 3 years, and I'm in a cozy, well lit kitchen, still by myself, baking another batch of banana muffins. And yes, I'm still trying to bake my troubles away. This time, though, it's different, somehow... Maybe because I'm baking for growth, instead of baking for anesthesia, if that makes any sense.
It's just funny how you can do the same thing, years apart, and have it mean two different things.... and yet still be so similar in motive.
Now, however, the muffins get eaten.
0 thoughts: