This morning I really want bakery. A donut. A danish. Something made outta the three main food groups-
dough, sugar, and butter.
Yeah, the Sandman last night looked a lot like my hero, the Pillsbury Doughboy.
The Elixir this morning has me focused on bakery, urging me to caloric companionship. But then it excavates a story. And it has to do with bakery.
Huh.
I was reading about a soldier's life. First stop was Korea before 'Nam and other vacation spots.
He knew a guy who got messed up mentally. Bad fire fight. The guy cracked. Couldn't shoot a gun anymore. But he wasn't going to leave his buddies.
He wouldn't quit.
So he became a cook. More specifically, a baker.
And he baked cinnamon rolls. In a bunker. On the front lines of some hill.
There by his buddies.
Guys would wake up in freezing foxholes to the scent of fresh, warm cinnamon rolls, wafting down war-torn hills and shattered gullies.
And it gave them hope for another day. A reason to get up and get it on.
The enemy realized the importance of those sweet rolls. They blasted the stew out of the cook's area.
And every morning the smell of baking cinnamon rolls would still be there.
Huh.
Brings to mind that saying,
"Whatever your hands find to do,
do it with all your might."
Even if those hands are floured.
What you have will help your buddies in the Good Fight.
And He says that the aroma smells reeeeally good.
Especially if it's sweet rolls.