Mmmm, bread.
Through Weight Watchers, I've dialed back my bread-eating. I switched from lunch sandwiches to wraps made with low-carb, high-fiber tortillas.
Until lately. Lately, I've been craving bread. We got a bread machine as a wedding gift and discovered that there's nothing better than fresh baked, homemade bread.
I've been slowly realizing that I'm not the only one who feels this way about delicious, delicious bread.
Evidence:
- About two years ago, Steve made honey-spice bread. We ate it with dinner, and then I sliced the rest, wrapped individual slices in plastic wrap, and sealed it all inside a large Ziplock bag. I left the bag on the counter. It was about two days later that I realized the bread was gone. "Did you take the rest of the spice bread to work?" I asked Steve. No. Maybe Gen took it? No again. It was a day or two later that we discovered who'd disposed of the bread--Ziplock bag, plastic wrap, and all--as the non-edible portions had started making their way through Chloe's digestive system.
- Some months after the spice bread disappeared, we used up some overripe bananas with a loaf of banana bread. It was cooling on a rack on the counter. I came downstairs and Gen was doing something next to the cooling bread. "We made banana bread," I told her. "I see!" she said. There was a large chunk missing from one end. "...What did you do to the bread?" I asked. We both looked at the missing chunk. "I didn't do that! It was like that when I came downstairs." Oh.
- Then there was the Waffle Incident.
- A few weeks ago while my friend M was visiting, we made two loaves of bread machine bread. The second loaf was made when about a third of the first was left, so that she'd have fresh bread for breakfast before her half-marathon. We ran to the grocery store the next afternoon leaving the third of the first loaf and a little more than half of the second, each wrapped in their own large Ziplock bags, on the counter. We came home to find both bags torn open and not a crumb of bread to be found.
- This week, I decided to take avocado-and-tomato-on-dark-rye sandwiches for lunch. On Monday, I left the empty, gently-used baggie from my sandwich on the counter so that I could re-use it for Tuesday's lunch. I woke up Tuesday morning to find it torn apart on Chloe's bed. Last night, I put a baggie with bread (to assemble my sandwich at work) in the pocket of my lunch bag, which I left hanging from a door knob in the kitchen. This morning, the bag was again torn to shreds in Chloe's bed, the bread gone.
She doesn't beg for food while we eat dinner. She doesn't take anything else off the counter. But bread, man. Bread is this dog's weakness.
