Of the Bread Machine

My husband is of the bread. You know what I mean. Sort of like “Robin of Locksley” or “Gene Simmons of KISS” or “Poseidon, God of the Sea.”


Bread gets expensive when you have a husband and progeny who are “of the bread.” When you’re going to the store every other day to make sure your family has enough bread, it gets pretty silly. They probably could have run me a tab at the Lookout Road King Soopers in Boulder.


The last couple of months, my husband of the bread has been talking about getting a bread machine. The first several times he mentioned it, all I did was glare darkly at him. Then I got used to hearing him talk about it, and so when my family started asking what he wanted for Christmas, I passed the idea along.


There’s a bread machine on my counter right now. Mixing Italian bread for dinner tonight. And it will be awesome.


The strange thing is that he hasn’t used it once.


That’s right, I use it, with my hatred of bread machines melting away like the butter does into a warm slice of bread, fresh out of the bread machine. I don’t have to hit the grocery store tri-weekly to make sure my kids can have a peanut butter and jelly sandwich for a snack, and I don’t feel guilty about using three fourths of a loaf to make garlic bread when we have spaghetti. It’s because I can always make more. And don’t get me started about how much money we save this way. I started to track how much a single loaf costs to make, but got cross eyed when I began to think about how much three fourths of a cup of milk would cost when the gallon is around three dollars. Turns out that one five hundredth of three dollars is one six hundredth of a dollar... The main point is that we’re saving money.


When your family is of the bread, one thing you may have to resign yourself to being is “of the bread machine.”