... than to have tried to carry on a conversation at the same time I was putting ingredients in the bread machine. The result? I didn't put in as much water as the focaccia bread recipe called for. And that's why you find me perched on a stool - for leverage - rolling out a lump of stiff, hard, unyielding bread dough.
These flabby middle-aged arm muscles aren't up to the job of spreading that resisting dough out to the edges of the pizza stone.
After many minutes of my struggling with the impossible, my photographer (eldest son) takes pity on me and trades me his camera for my rolling pin and with those young muscles, gets the job done quickly!
The bread turned out wonderfully, by the way.
Wish I had gotten a picture of it before we gobbled it up.
We're planning His/Her Thanksgivings again this year.
Thursday, Thanksgiving with my parents and family and Friday, Thanksgiving with sweet Hubby's family.
I wish you and yours a wonderful Thanksgiving season!