I was tried and they found me guilty!

I wrote a quaint little blog the other day about how I turned Satan down even though it seemed the stupid option. Here's that blog if you're interested:  Flirting With Death


But the fact remains, that blog was about a dream.  Yesterday when true evil presented itself, I chose poorly.

The story should start with a delicious piece of bread.  My friend makes THE BEST bread in the world.

People talk about fairy food and the food of the gods--those delicacies have NOTHING on Candiss' bread.  This bread has won awards--I'm sure of it.  It's so good I'd become a bounty hunter if her loaves cost a fortune; I'd dance on hot coals; I'd swim with sharks;  Hell, if I said something wrong, I'd even apologize to Cade if it meant having another slice of this amazing bread.

I tried making it once.  I had the vain hopes that I too could bake like a master.  Dear friends, the bread didn't raise, well it tried and then crumpled on itself like . . . Mary's Husband!  It's a sad story really and it happened two days ago, one day before the master bread maker visited my house.

The Baker's grace swept any thought from mind.  She practically skated through the front room and into the kitchen--that's how fluidly this woman moves.  She smiled kindly, "Hello, Elisa.  I've brought you some bread."

That level sixty mage, that princess in flip-flops!  She'd brought not one, but two loaves of bread.  She chuckled at my reaction.  "Oh, so you like this bread?"

Was she kidding? Who wouldn't die just to eat one slice?  She must have known she'd spoken rhetorically.  "Well, seeing as how it's better than manna," I said.  "Yeah I really like it."

We ate the bread.  We smiled and giggled like the Mad Hatter in Wonderland.  We smothered the pieces with honey and butter, but it was so heavenly--so good--we only ate one loaf and I knew The Master Bread Maker should take the other loaf home.

It was one of the best moments in my life.  Time passed quickly; before I even blinked, the sun had set and that bread made me feel as if the sun was still shining.  Who needed heat, oxygen, life, when that bread and good company were around.

The Master Bread Maker noticed the time, "Oh my."  She gathered her darling children--those bakers in training.  Our littlest boys are inseparable and I suddenly knew why; The Zombie Elf is trying to get The Recipe!

But as she drove away, I went back into the kitchen and noticed that steaming, magical, final loaf of MAGE BREAD!  I knew I should call The Master Baker--tell her she'd left some of her goodness behind.  I looked at my phone, then the bread.  I glanced at my phone, then the butter, then the honey and the knife.  That's when I made the poorest choice in history.  I called all of my children into the kitchen.  "Would you like another slice of bread."

They praised my name.  They danced around, hooting in merriment because I had stolen the bread!  For five minutes I was the best Mother in the world.  They said they loved me AND bread.  We told the story of Hansel and Gretel.  The Hippie suddenly stopped and said, "Hansel's bread must have been cucky.  If it tasted like this, I'd never use it for a crumb trail."  We all laughed at the simplistic truth she'd uttered and then we ate some more.  So I'm embarrassed to say that I called The Master Baker--AFTER MOST OF THE LOAF WAS GONE.

Guilt ate at my brain, like a starving money in the desert.  The bread turned to ash in my mouth as I discovered its perfection could only be tarnished by guilt.  "Candiss?"  I said sadly.

"Hello, Hello," she said in her chipper, sing-song voice.

I took a breath--I could do this!  "I hijacked your bread," I stumbled over the words.  "I mean, I didn't hijack it exactly.  I just didn't call and give it to you right when you left.  Now I feel horrible."

Silence hung like a dead man between our phone lines.

I went on, trying to save myself.  "It's just that I'm in love with your bread.  I didn't call you when I should have and now . . . now half the loaf is gone," I nearly sobbed then because only one piece was left.  I'd lied, but made it sound a bit better. "Can you hear me?  Half the loaf's gone and it'll never be the same again!"

Silence . . .  Nothing . . .  I knew then, she must cherish that bread as much as I do.

"Do you remember the dream I wrote about, how I defied Satan?" I asked, trying to save our friendship.  "Well, now I know it was just a dream.  I couldn't even defy a steamy loaf of bread!"  Tears filled my eyes.  The Master Baker remained quiet a moment longer and then suddenly burst with sound.

I worried she might go into labor.  I wondered what she'd say; if she hated bread thieves, or if she was flattered that I like her bread so much.  "You are so funny," she laughed hysterically, "I made it for you anyway!"  I know she smiled big.  "And you were soooo worried about it.  You crack me up!"

"You made it for me?  You really did?"  See!  She's a Mage--Aphrodite--a goddess in flip-flops!

So I thought I sinned, but was really just enjoying a gift from a friend.  I ate the last slice as I talked to her.  "Thank you, Candiss.  Thank you so much!  Did I mention that I love this bread."

She giggled on the other end.  "Yeah, I think I caught that."

"Can I tell you something else?" I asked.

"Ummm . . . Sure."

"We ate a little more than half the loaf . . .  I'm eating the last piece right now."

She laughed again.  "Oh you are hilarious!" she said and I knew she'll always be one of my best friends!

Here's her cooking blog if you have a chance to check it out.  I LOVE this recipe:
AFK Dinner