"I (chest pound) have made fire!"

Remember in the movie Castaway when Tom Hanks makes fire and then dances around it, yelling?

"I (chest pound) have made fire!"

I had a Tom Hanks moment on Wednesday when I danced around this:

Please don't judge me for taking a picture of it. It was a monumental day for me. It is whole wheat bread that is both homemade and edible. At least, it was edible once we smeared half a cube of butter on it and drowned it in honey. Maybe an old dusty yearbook would also be edible if it was prepared this way. (Yes, Meegan, that is your blue loaf pan. Too bad you're in LOGAN. Sucka'!)

Yesterday I decided that I wanted to figure out how to make a yearbook, I mean, loaf of wheat bread that was not only edible but delicious. I consulted my Aunt Mary and she gave me a recipe for the following:

Creepy how much it looks like the other, crappier wheat bread, isn't it? Creepy. It looks like the other wheat bread but it tastes like it fell from heaven.

Which reminds me, I am glad that Heavenly Father has stopped the system of giving us our blessings in the form of mysterious chunks of bread. I prefer my blessings to be in the form of mysterious boxes of doughnuts.

Or yard sales full of brand-name, barely used clothing that is just the right size for my kids.

Or a car that keeps running even though the mechanic only gave it three months to live.

Or a husband who knows how to solder.

Or making it through my morning run without getting attacked by perverts and/or having a heart attack.

Or not living on an active tectonic plate boundary.

Or hearing "Pump Up the Jam" on the radio.

Or finding a parking spot next to the cart thing.

So many gifts from heaven...