Yesterday was wonderfully busy.

Today was wonderfully quiet.

I imagine that's how the universe keeps us humble. Just when you think you've figured things out, it hands you a quiet day and says, "Go make something."

So I baked.

I'm not entirely sure where my love of baking began. Maybe it was my Easy-Bake Oven, which somehow convinced an entire generation of children that a light bulb was a perfectly reasonable heat source.

I mostly remember what went wrong.

The frosting that somehow became marshmallow.

The cakes that could have doubled as coasters.

The pizza dough came from a box because I hadn't yet learned that yeast can't be hurried. Bread has its own schedule, and it has absolutely no interest in ours.

Come to think of it...neither does life.