Growing up, there was always 5 of us siblings at home at any given time - I'm number 7 out of 11. I guess that makes me the lucky one - high dice anyone? But back to the smell of fresh-baked bread. There was a commercial bakery a couple of miles (4km~) away and I always tried to be the one to go there with my father. He would buy up enough day-old bread so there was enough for toast in the mornings with breakfast, sandwiches for lunch, and best of all - bread pudding!
My mother would buy large boxes of raisins for this. We always purchased potatoes by the 50-pound bag and we would use one that had been thoroughly cleaned out. At least 3 of us kids would sit and break up the bread, filling that entire bag - which was just as tall as some of us, or so it seemed at that time. After dinner that night, and for the next several lunches and dinners, we would enjoy nice warm bread pudding with some cinnamon sprinkled on top and a little milk poured over it. There has been only one time since I got married in 1972 that I ever had bread pudding the same as my mother made it - just once! That was made by an old Italian woman. My mother was mostly Irish. Since there was always 5 kids at home, now I know why my dad bought a two-family house. The older ones slept upstairs and the younger ones were "stuck" downstairs with mom and dad.
Now to stay on topic... I've been entering the launch dates into my multi-clipboard's calendar and highlight that date with a very bright yellow. Changing dates is just a matter of copying and pasting the data into a new date, then deleting the old date.
But... ohhh the smell of that bread from the bakery!