So lame

It's 4:35 a.m., and I'm waiting for the banana bread to finish baking. I plan to bring it on the Lion King trip tomorrow. Pick-up is scheduled for 9 a.m. I figured I might as well bake it at 3 in the morning since I can't sleep anyway. Because of the noise, I didn't use the electric mixer, but mixed it by hand. All I could see and hear was my mother beating cake batter in a big yellowish bowl which had several darker colored rings around it. I hear the walloping sound of the batter against the side of the bowl, as it swirled around in what looked like one form, all the separate ingredients now in cohesive form bent on a single purpose. My mother was strong then, and capable of making the batter move that way. I would stand peeking over the edge of the kitchen table and wonder how she did it and if I would ever be able to do the same. Many years later, the answer is still no, I can't.