It was Friday, but the way things were going it felt a lot more like a Monday. Ran out of flour midway through preparing my challah dough so I ran out to CVS – the fastest and easiest place to pick up flour. On the way home another driver tried speeding up and passing me as the lanes were merging and when he wasn’t successful, he leaned on his horn and made a crude gesture.

At home I glanced nervously at my yeast and water mixture which puffed up as high as the edge of the bowl, quickly mixed in the last few cups of flour, added the yeast to my Bosch and turned it to low. It started going too quickly so I turned the switch to off, but instead the machine freaked out and started spewing out dough clumps, yeast droplets and flour clouds everywhere.


Looking at the amount of yeast and dough on the floor, counter, cabinets, my clothing and suede boots I contemplated giving in and letting the machine have the last word. But that’s not my style. So although I’d been fasting and was definitely not at peak energy, I ditched the boots and other affected garments and began the sticky job of cleaning up.

An hour later the dough was rising beautifully in the bowl and my daughter came home from school. I was able to finish up some articles that were due before the weekend, while she gave six braiding a shot for the first time.

Let me tell you, that night when we said Hamotzi and tasted the (beautifully and artfully braided) challah I knew I came out on top in Bosch vs. Baker Lady. The outside was crispy, the inside soft, fluffy and perfect. It was heavenly.

Same with rude guy vs. Baker Lady. I’m not here to preach about patience or anger management. All I’ll say is there’s nothing like having it all work out in the end. That poor, angry passing guy couldn’t have been rushing home to anything as urgent as homemade challah to break the fast and welcome in Shabbos.

Maybe I should have slowed down and let him in…