This morning I baked two loaves of sandwich bread. So many recipes of bread, so many variations that always come back to the same things. Flour, water, yeast, salt, sugar.

That's it. So simple, isn't it? And yet so incredibly tasty. For the next couple of days I'm going to have a big bag of french toast sticks in the fridge; heat and eat. It tastes so much better when I use the real bread. By real I mean not loaded with preservatives and god-knows-what chemicals. Sure, it looks pretty in the store and it stays soft and doesn't go bad for weeks. But it has a bland texture and not a lot of taste. With homemade bread, not only do I get the thrill of baking it and smelling it bake, but I know exactly what's in it.

Dinner tonight is a tuna noodle bake. Cause I can. And tomorrow is Friday, which is calzone day. And Saturday is Date Night around these parts- the Boy and I will curl up together and watch tv and eat cheesy bread and cuddle. I'm looking forward to this with everything that's in me.