A new little project I’m starting. Thought I would share it with ya’ll if you are interested. bookmarkbaker:
For my first recipe I thought I would do one that I already love - this bourbon banana bread. Who doesn’t love banana bread? So many memories of my mom making early in the morning; the smell getting all of us kids up out of bed. It seems fitting to bake this for the start of the school year.
I have it baking in the oven right now, and I will post pictures of the finished product later (I may have forgotten to take pics of the process).
“I’ve learned that no matter what happens, or how bad it seems today, life does go on, and it will be better tomorrow. I’ve learned that you can tell a lot about a person by the way he/she handles these three things: a rainy day, lost luggage, and tangled Christmas tree lights. I’ve learned that regardless of your relationship with your parents, you’ll miss them when they’re gone from your life. I’ve learned that making a "living" is not the same thing as making a "life". I’ve learned that life sometimes gives you a second chance. I’ve learned that you shouldn’t go through life with a catcher’s mitt on both hands; you need to be able to throw something back. I’ve learned that whenever I decide something with an open heart, I usually make the right decision. I’ve learned that even when I have pains, I don’t have to be one. I’ve learned that every day you should reach out and touch someone. People love a warm hug, or just a friendly pat on the back. I’ve learned that I still have a lot to learn. I’ve learned that people will forget what you said, people will forget what you did, but people will never forget how you made them feel.”— Maya Angelou
“Ultimately, nobody wanted to be there and for me a good book was simply the best escapism. But I’ve always felt that good literature makes real life more interesting and beautiful too, and it was a time when I needed that more than ever.”—
As Britain faces the possibility of a ban on sending books to prisoners, The Guardian talks to prisoners about the gift of reading.
Another former inmate says:
The act of reading for eight [to] ten hours a day was one of absolute bliss… The literature I was reading didn’t really change me, but the act of reading taught me how to cope with the time. Time is a river, and in jail/prison it moves at the rate of molasses (the metaphor is not mine). And it also taught me how much I love books, even the bad ones. As perverse as this sounds, I would do the time again if only I could select what books were available.
Given the chance, literature will burst the bounds of race, culture and class.