Two and a half weeks ago I was at my wits end. Work had become insane (a certain federal agency had changed some very important rules effective immediately), everyone I knew seem to be having personal issues and I had just had enough. I came home, threw an altar together and prayed to the Pomba Gira for some fast help. I promised her that if she helped I would bake her some Portugeuse sweet bread (her favorite) before the spring equinox.
Needless to say, the next day that same federal agency not only changed it's mind and rescinded the changes but issued something dangerously close to an apology. Problems that have been around for months have completely cleared up and most of my ohana seems to be doing better.
So last night, I started the Portuguese Sweet Bread. It is actually the most complicated bread I make. Multiple steps, lost of ingredients and I make the whole thing by hand for maximum ache'...oh and it takes about 18 hours total. As I was kneeding the dough, I was working so hard that my yoga pants were falling off my butt. I'm covered in sweat and flour is now stuck to the sweat so I am looking REAL sexy and I don't want to stop until the 15 minutes of kneeding was done. As my yoga pants fall down to my ankles, I couldn't help but laugh at myself and how ridiculus I must look.
At that moment I felt happy. Maybe it was just being in the absurdity of the moment. Even though I was making that bread for her, I may have gotten just as much out of that loaf as she did. I baked that bread this morning and carved three chunks out of it so I could insert three candles. It ended up looking really cool.
I'll let sit for a day and then go feed some birds with it.