It's just normal for me, these days, to forget a lot. I forget important things, like checking the bank account before I go shopping, or turning off the burner after I've finished cooking the soup. I really should set up some rules, but I forget to do that. It's the very short term memory that blacks out.
For instance: I was making zucchini bread this morning. I have an over abundance of zucchini. Because I forgot to harvest it, the squashes are longer than my arm from hand to elbow, and much fatter. This morning I decided I have to take action. I would make that big green thing to change into two beautiful loaves of fragrant zucchini bread.
So I started.
First thing: put the monster squash through the food processor. That I accomplished without mishap.
Next, assemble and measure out the ingredients according to the recipe. I did all that, at least the assembling part, getting all the stuff out of the cupboard. I even prepared the pans the bread would bake in.
Next, start putting it together in the trusty mixer. Now here's where I had a visual distraction. The oven had just beeped, "I'm 350 degrees now..." Once my mind gets a bit side-tracked, I'm lost. But the problem is I don't realize I'm lost. I think I'm just going along super efficiently and ... uh..
Uh... and this is going to be the best zucchini bread I've ever done. It looked so good in the mixer, good consistency, the ground up green squash mixing together with all the other stuff...
I poured the batter into the two oiled glass bread pans, just as always. It looked fine. And so I made sure there was an even amount in each pan, and remembered to use a hot pad--or, what d'ya call those thingies you use to keep from burning your hands? Anyway... I got both pans of batter into the oven, closed the door, and set the timer.
Now, to clean up, I thought. I started putting things away. Suddenly, I saw the spices, salt, and baking soda and powder containers... Uh. Oh. I forgot to put those in. Yikes. I envisioned a couple of pancake-looking loaves.
Maybe I can fix this, I hoped out loud. I took the barely warm loaves out of the very hot oven and set them on the top of the stove, which was not hot. I halved the recipe portions of the forgotten ingredients and mixed them together one at a time, and then gently stirred them together into the warm batter of one loaf pan, and repeated the action with the other.
And I prayed. Thank You, Father, for helping me remember before it was too late. Now, Father, if You would just let these loaves rise so the lovely giant zucchini squash You gave us won't be wasted, I'd appreciate it. Thank You. Amen.
And He did. The bread is okay. It rose. It tastes okay. Jack does not know. I don't think I'm even going to tell him.
Oh, I forgot... I already told all you guys. Oh, well.
