I think I need a weekend to recover from the weekends. But truly, the past three days have been pretty swell. I'll have to save those thoughts for later. Today is my sweet mother's birthday. I am convinced that our garden still continues to grow because her maiden name is Flores. Of all of the people I've ever met, my mom is the kindest, warmest, and loveliest. She has the most beautiful hands, the most infectious never-ending smile, the greatest laugh, and she gives the most comforting hugs. I come from a very silly family. We're a bunch of goofballs around each other and I always feel my cleverest around ol' Pop Pop and Gangy. Without gushing cheese, I feel like I really lucked out. My parents still act like teenagers around each other, which was slightly annoying when I was a teenager- yet for all of my eye rolling, I've always been proud of them. It's tough spending most of the year separated from the two people who know and love me best, but I think we manage pretty well.
As for the bread? Nothing reminds me more of home than baking. I remember growing up to the scents of walnut fudge, pumpkin pie, and bread warming up the house from the oven.