Important Old Banana Update: I thought you would be so glad to hear that in an act of bold kindness to me, my husband ate a banana that was turning brown. I mean, there I was, asking myself the question "Will I REALLY be able to throw that away and not freeze it?" Everything in me was, well, clenched. And then there was the peel, emptied of my need to decide.
I'm watching the five that are currently yellowing in my kitchen and telling myself, "You can do it, Ginger. You know you can."
I put my dukes up to whatever god is in charge of banana bread-on-the-fly and threw out all the old bananas in my freezer. There were 24. I had 24 old bananas in my freezer. Because someday I might make banana bread.
It was like risking the wrath of some meaner, more survivalist-oriented version of the pillsbury dough boy.
And now I have no backup plan, no means of pulling off a homemade baked good on the spur of the moment. I am embracing the bakery. I am saying yes to the high skill level of others. I am eschewing homemade.
Who knows what will happen to me at Christmastime (which is in like 11 months). I don't know what will happen. This is a crazy I-don't-have-any-way-to-make-banana-bread sort of a ride. Hold on tight--no! Don't hold on tight. Let go. Put your hands in the air. Feel that feeling like you might fall off.
I have no bananas.
But what if you need to make banana bread, Ginger? What will you DO?
I don't know. I really, honestly, don't know. I'm shaking my head as I write this. I just don't know.
But when I peer into my freezer and see the vacated place that those bananas held, I have a feeling that seems like . . . freedom.