Yeast is not my friend.
My Christmas morning cinnamon rolls are a lifeless lump of dough, with no intention of rising for the occasion.
It is my own fault I suppose. Each year of my mis-spent youth I went to my aunt's home in the summer. There I was supposed to work on my 4-H projects and learn the intricacies of baking and sewing. We developed the perfect plan- or at least it seemed so at the time. While I went merrily off to the hay field to toss bales and drive the tractor, she stayed in the house baking my rolls and sewing my skirts. Seemed like a win/win. I got a blue ribbon every year- but I am paying the price for my tomfoolery now.
ah well, cinnamon rolls or not... Christmas will come...
Wishing each of you a blessed holiday, filled with the peace that this season can bring.