the punchbowl

He Nudged Me

2011-03-24T13:02:00.000-07:00

Day16 of the Lenten Journey finds me alive and well!

Since I've been attempting to deny my flesh of certain mindless indulgences or comforts I find myself inconsistent yet determined. My focus has been more on a physical level than a spiritual level; but didn't Jesus blend the physical with the spiritual when he fasted and journeyed through the desert for 40 days? Of course, He was led by the Holy Spirit.

Am I? Am I believer in Jesus? Do I believe in the filling of the Spirit when one accepts Jesus as their Saviour? Yes to both of those questions. So, when being led by Spirit, why do I tend to limit that to just an emotional experience? Actually, that nudging I had, to direct me towards the Lord before the Lenten season, was that not the Holy Spirit who indwells me? He nudged my intellect and my heart. My Bible teaches that the Spirit always testifies to Jesus, the Son of God. It wouldn't have been the devil encouraging my heart to move towards Jesus. And believe me, it surely wasn't my flesh either! My flesh would NEVER desire anything that wasn't pleasurable and didn't bring immediate gratification. That's just the nature of the flesh.

So yes, indeed I was led by the Spirit into this 40 day journey in my desert of sorts. I'm still battling the fleshly desires on an ever constant basis. I'm trying to be conscientious of my mind, will and emotions, my fleshly desires and my spirit man, who so desperately needs to built up in Jesus. I am more aware of my desert surroundings. I'm also more discerning regarding needs, wants and desires. I feel I'm slowly awakening. There is a Spring-like quality that is happening inside of me. This short path of death and darkness that I have chosen is allowing light to shine and define some things in my life.

Following is a small list of physical victories and losses:
- I walked out of three various retail stores within the last week without purchasing a single thing my eye lusted after. I even put stuff back. It was a sad but good feeling at the time.
- I also confess that at other times, I did buy some stuff that I don't really need. I was lured by the $1 price tag.
- I'm making good on a vow I made to myself for the last 20 years. I told myself that when I turn 40, I'd get serious about exercising for health. Basically, I'd eat a whole lot more salads and veggies, less red meat and less dessert and exercise everyday. It won't be about "looking good", it will be for health. Granted, I'm in the days of small beginnings, but I BEGAN!
- I ate pizza, Cajun tots, homemade monkey bread (using Sid, my sourdough starter...he turned 1 year old on the 22nd) and had 1 pt. of Ruby beer.
- I ran 2.3 miles today. I've never enjoyed running. But today, I felt different about it; only after starting the run. That leads me to tomorrow's story.

a misspelled question

2011-03-18T17:43:00.000-07:00

"Then Jesus, being filled with the Holy Spirit, returned from the Jordan and was led by the Spirit into the desert being being tempted for forty days by the devil." Luke 4:1-2a

I think it is very important to read in Luke 4 about Who lead Jesus into the desert. There is a clue in there as to Who helped Him speak the very Word to cause the devil to back down. I believe this Who is also key in our living our lives as Christ followers. Jesus said all who believe in Him will be filled with the Holy Spirit.

I believe it is up to us to allow the Spirit to lead us. I think so many times, I see where God, through His Spirit would want to take me and if it looks uncomfortable or like there could be a "devil" there, then it must not be God or even Spirit-lead, so I actually end up denying the Spirit rather than the flesh. What would have happened had Jesus said "no" to the Spirit leading Him to the desert to be tempted by the devil?

Notice how Jesus didn't avoid the desert. I avoid.

I know you know what I'm talking about.
I'm specifically talking about not buying cookies.
Or making cookies.
Or having cookies anywhere in the proximity of where I live.
I'm talking about not having to listen to the little package of cookies call out my name from wherever they may be stashed. Avoidance. How easy it is. I am wondering if it really is me resisting the temptation or is it really me avoiding the test all together?

If I change one letter, in one word, in that verse in Luke 4, then the story of Jesus being lead by the Holy Spirit into the desert to be tempted by the devil would read like this: "Then Jesus, being filled with the Holy Spirit, returned from the Jordan and was led by the Spirit into the dessert being tempted for forty days by the devil." For you A+ spellers out there, I just changed a dry, arid place into a French bakery. Desert becomes dessert.

This is getting trivial in a light-hearted way about something seriously spiritual. So, thanks to the English language, we'll just change one word so we don't have to dwell on this any longer. "Then Jesus, being filled with the Holy Spirit, returned from the Jordan and was led by the Spirit into the wilderness being tempted for forty days by the devil."

There, that should remove any attempt at relevancy to my life. No need to dwell there. I'm so glad I avoided those questions.

The Cookie

2011-03-11T16:40:00.000-08:00

This chocolate cookie was a no-brainer temptation. What I mean is this: I was painting and while I was painting, the thought of the chocolate cookie came to mind, then I instantly recalled how good it tastes. It had been 2 hours since lunch and a little snackie would be good and tasty. So, I put my paint brush down, washed my hands and wandered into the kitchen. I popped open the lid and the fragrance of chocolate cookies wafted up to my nostrils. "Mmmmm", I thought. And then, an image of a glass of milk entered my mind. I poured a small glass of milk. I took a bite of the cookie. As soon I did, it occurred to me that I had just given into temptation. GASP! I finished the cookie. GASP! I stared at the small glass of milk. Cookies and milk go together like burgers and fries or pie and coffee. One without the other is sacrilege. So, I figured I had better take a photo of the culprits of my failure. (As you may or may not know, I'm on a mission for 40 days to resist temptation.) I grab another cookie (and smell that wonderful smell), I feel remorseful that a chocolate cookie is such an obvious temptation and yet, without even thinking, I was tempted and just gave in to it. INCONCEIVABLE! (you are now thinking about the Princess Bride, aren't you?) I set the cookie on a napkin and I position the milk beside it. I take several pictures of the offenders. I take a picture of the cookie, from different angles and lighting settings. (sigh) I scroll through my shots and delete the bad photos. I forward the good ones to my email. I got distracted by the dog wanting back inside. Mind you, this all happened in about 2 minutes. I let the dog back inside and see the cookie and milk. I pick up the cookie and mindlessly eat it. GASP! .........................FOOL! I DID IT AGAIN!!! How could I go through 2 minutes of realizing MY depravity regarding the temptation of cookies just to do it AGAIN?! INCONCEIVABLE!

The thing of it is, Jesus was going without food for 40 days in the desert and the devil came to Him and tempted Him to turn a stone into a loaf of bread. That was a temptation based on a legitimate need.

Cookies and milk?

It's Painfully Obvious

2011-03-10T21:56:00.000-08:00

It's painfully obvious this resisting temptation thing for 40 days isn't going to work. At least on my own, it isn't going to work. Denying oneself and the lusts of this flesh just doesn't come easy. Jesus tells us if we are going to follow Him then we are to pick up our cross daily, we need to deny ourselves. Why would anyone want to do this? This will be 40 days of dying. Why?

This isn't going to make me holy. This isn't going to get me into Heaven. This isn't going to earn me any points with God. Why should I bother?

Why should I feel so compelled to prepare my heart for Resurrection Sunday, the day Jesus conquered death? It's amazing how I am already fighting against this inclination to "deny oneself". Quite frankly, I am comfortable right where I'm at. Or perhaps not just comfortable, but complacent.

....No, not complacent; because I still believe there is more to this Jesus than I've known for the last 27 years of walking with Him. There is something in me that needs to die in order for new life to emerge. I'm not sure what that is, or what it looks like, but I'm going to commit to this 40 day thing. I have a feeling that my failing on this human level is actually succeeding on some small spiritual level.

It's going to be painful, obviously.

Another 40 Day Project

2011-03-09T14:14:00.001-08:00

I'm not Catholic. I've never "done" Lent. However, this year, I am feeling compelled to prepare my heart for Resurrection Sunday (I prefer calling it what I celebrate; the resurrection of Jesus on the third day after His death.). Lent is a 40 day fast that is supposed to represent Jesus' 40 days in the desert overcoming the temptations by Satan. It's recorded in Luke 4.

I'm not fasting. I am on a mission. I am reading Luke 4 for 40 days. I am pondering this story. I am examining my own heart and ways. I am thinking about Jesus being in a desert and the lack of comfortable living he endured. I am thinking about how the text clearly mentions that Jesus was led by the Holy Spirit into the wilderness. I am thinking about the three recorded ways the devil tempted Jesus. I am thinking about how at the end of the temptation period, the devil departed from Him until an opportune time. I am thinking about how Jesus returned to Galilee in the power of the Holy Spirit and thus began His ministry.

I shall imagine what it would be like to live 40 days in the wilderness (in the area Jesus was in, it would be like living in Arizona). I don't know if He had a tent, a camel, and a 40 day ration of water. I don't know if he took any good scrolls to read. I don't know if he stayed out of the skin cancer inducing UV rays. I don't know if he traveled by night and slept by day. I don't know if he had memorized the constellations to know which direction he was going.

You see, if it were me going for 40 days into the wilderness (especially if I knew I would be fasting), I would pack my Jeep with all the Costco water bottles I could fit in it. I would have 5 vat-sized SPF 50 sunblock lotion bottles. I would have my sunglasses, my sunhat, a good pair of hiking shoes, a box of matches, some camp fire wood, a topographical map or a TomTom GPS, a portable chair, some chewing gum, my iPod with car charger, good books and magazines, a camera with some good lenses, a couple of pencils, a pen and a journal.

I would definitely be ready to capture whatever God wanted to tell me be it a scene, a word or some lyric from a great song. I would be quasi-comfortable...like camping, but with more of a spiritual intent. Right?

So here is what I'm thinking I'm going to do for the next 40 days (we don't count Sundays for some reason during the Lent season otherwise it would be 46 days), I'm going to try to overcome temptation. I know the difference between eating for sustaining my life and eating because I'm tempted (like the creme brulee on the dessert tray after I have already broken the law against gluttony). Or like when I'm tempted to run off to the store for something that I really don't need. There's so many things I can be tempted by. But the choice is up to me. I have the inconvenience of not being in a desert. Temptation is everywhere.

I'll blog each day about my triumphs and (most likely) failures. This is an attempt to realize my real, true need. Jesus. Because like I said, if I were going somewhere for 40 days, I would...

10 Weeks!

2010-11-04T21:21:00.000-07:00

Well, it's ten weeks until the big 4 OH!
I'm taking stock.
I'm pondering.
I'm hesitantly moving forward.
I'm grasping new truths.
I'm letting go of familiar lies.

It's a good place to be.

I was thinking back to my childhood to see if I could recognize what was in my heart way back then. What sort of things did I like, what games did I like to play, what did I like to do, who or what did I pretend to be? What happened to that girl? If I imagine myself so young and small like her, and I could talk to her, what would I say? Or would I say anything? Perhaps I would just listen.

New Dough in Town

2010-10-26T18:50:00.000-07:00

I made a new sourdough starter. I still have Sid.
Sid is good.
Sid is easy going.
Sid still reigns supreme.

Now I have Walter. Where Sid is a milk-based starter, Walter is a water-based starter.

I made Walter 20 days ago. Ten days later, I made a some artisan loaves with him. He tasted yummy. Not quite as yeasty as Sid, but still, he was good. Then I fed him. The little guy was a glutton! It was my fault though. I gave him 3 times the amount of sugar! I realized that and then had to adjust his flour and water accordingly! I'm not sure how he'll taste the next time I make bread with him.

Flash Forward one month later: Walter is the Shiz.

Oh Walter...

2010-10-06T22:47:00.000-07:00

Here's a blues song. After each sentence you can flourish it with your own "blues sound" (i.e. bum DUH da dum, da dum, da dum, da dum, bum DUH da dum,etc.)

I woke up this morning (insert blues sound)
I mixed up some dough (blues sound)
I was in a hurry (blues sound)
I had somewhere to go! (blues sound)

I heated up the water (you know what to do)
I waited for the right temp (.....)
I added some more flour (....)
I did not add hemp (.... okay, okay, so I needed a rhyming word + it's a true statement! Of course, I wouldn't know where to get such stuff. I've seen it in health food stores, not-so-secretly- added to chips among some other things. Oh, and it's in the craft shops too; in yarn and jewelry supplies. Back to the blues!)

Here's the part of the song where you can really let it go....think House of Blues....think laundry!

The dough mixed up nicely (blues sound)
It smelled pretty good too (blues sound)
I dumped it out on the counter (.....)
It was a big gob of goo (...)

More flour was ~~kneaded~~ needed (blues sound)
The dough wouldn't let it in (get grungy with it, because my frustration at this point is high. The dough was NOT letting the flour incorporate)
I fussed at the dough ball and looked at the jar and when I realized that Walter was still in the jar, I felt real apologetic, because I wasn't making sourdough at all, I just had a big ball of gooey dough and poor Walter wasn't a part of it at all! (okay, so I'm not much of a song writer and I ruined your groove. My groove was ruined too).

Song over.
Story not over.

I added 1 cup of Walter (the new sourdough starter,yes I still have Sid) to the dough and got my hands reeeeeeeeeeeal goopy. Then I got all improvisational with it and added a tad more flour and a tad more Walter. When it was all said and done, I had a very dense ball of sourdough. And because Walter was such a glutton after to first time I fed him (I gave him 3x the amount of sugar and had to compensate with more flour and water) I'm not real sure how it's all going to turn out.

I've got the sourdough blues.

Flipping-out on this Freaky Friday over Flirtatious Females

2010-08-27T22:02:00.000-07:00

nuf said.

Michelle's Summer 2010: 10 Things

2010-07-27T10:49:00.000-07:00

10) COLD and CLOUDY June.

9) Started process of buying house in Forest Grove.

8) STRAWBERRIES, RASPBERRIES, BLUEBERRIES AND TAYBERRIES

7) Snag in the home-buying process

6) Home-made freezer jams

5) Theater In The Grove Children's After School Theater Productions: "The Saddest King" & "Music Man, Jr." with Charlie acting in both and Autry as a Stage Technician

4) Another snag in the home-buying process.

3) Trip to Port Townsend, WA. for 4th of July.

2) Beach trip

1) BFF from high school visits for a week. What fun!

We are still awaiting the closing of our house. Will keep you posted!

Accessories For Sid

2010-07-14T21:39:00.000-07:00

Sid is my sourdough starter that lives in my fridge. He's about 5 months old now. He had a near death experience a couple of weeks ago and since then, I have really been more sympathetic towards him.

My family and I went strawberry picking last week for our first time EVER. We picked 20lbs of strawberries in 40 minutes. They were $1/lb. We paid $20 for our strawberries. They should've weighed us before we started picking, because I'm sure between the four of us, we ate 5lbs worth. I only ate two strawberries. It was my boys who ate in poundage.

Unlike blackberry picking, there aren't any thorny briers that scratch up your skin or clothes. There are just small, green clusters of plants and if you move the foliage out of the way, you will see under the green leaves and stalks, a red cache. It's beautiful. Red strawberries hidden under the shade of the plant, resting peacefully, waiting for someone to find them and pick them.

Pick them we did!

We took our 20lbs of strawberries home. We ate our dinner, went to see Charlie in his play at the Theater in the Grove, ate ice cream and then, at 9:30pm began the cleaning/de-stemming/pureeing/jam process. It took us me 2 1/2 hours to process all of those strawberries. It was my first time. I wasn't sure how to set up the system. I had my food processor out and started the puree process with that, but realized that the blender would hold more. I had 4 bowls to begin with but realized 2 were sufficient.

About 1 1/2 hours into the whole shebang, I had this thought: "Puree can later be made into jam. Jam does not have to be made RIGHT NOW".

Well, you might think that was a little long to take to have that thought, but this was my first time. I was a strawberry jam-making virgin. It took awhile for the "Aha" moment to happen. If you don't have anyone there giving you advice or pointers, then it takes a little longer.

Needless to say, I hastened the process by just making puree and freezing that in Ziplocs.

I will return to the strawberry field and pick some more and freeze more puree. I will make jam in January. It will be like a Beatles song, "Strawberry Fields Forever".

Oh yes, about Sid.

Sid was accessorized (after 20 minutes of cooling from the oven) with fresh, homemade strawberry jam. The strawberry jam dressed him up quite nicely. And as ZZ Top says, "Every girl's crazy about a sharped dressed man" (bread).

The love affair has begun.
Sid was consumed within his first hour of accessorization.

My Most Recent Encounter with the Po-Po

2010-06-27T22:58:00.000-07:00

This unfortunate story took place in April and I have been hesitant to share it with you. Though, at the urging of a few friends and family, I am now sharing this story.

I'm over at a friend's house (mind you, I do not have my own car, so she had to pick me up). I am there for about 45 minutes when my phone rings. It's Charlie. "Mom, I'm stranded at the library". (He rides his bike to the library frequently since we live so close to it). "What? What do you mean stranded?", I ask and a little annoyed that he's calling me while I'm visiting a friend (he knows to only call if it's a true emergency). "I mean I am STUCK at the library!", he replies, a little annoyed with me for asking him to define "stranded". "O.K, so you're stuck at the library. You rode your bike down there, so you can ride back home...right?", I inquire. "Yes, but I can't get the bike chain lock to unlock", he informs me. Grrrrr.... I sigh and respond with,"Did you line up the letters (it's a "Word Lock" which uses 4 letter words as your "code")? Did you try it several times?". "YEEEESSSSSS!", he says, exasperated. I sigh heavier into the phone and tell him to get an adult to help. He says as quietly and pleadingly as possible, "no." I grunt and sigh into the phone. I want him to know how displeased I am that I'm being inconvenienced by this and quite possibly will have to inconvenience my friend to drive me down there. I ask him why he can't get an adult to help him. He informs me or actually reminds me that the code word on this particular lock isn't one he wants to seek help with.

Flash back to two years ago when we bought the two bicycle chains with the word locks. Autry had his bike stolen and we bought "the best locks out there" as well as the easiest. You choose a four letter word that you would remember and presto, secure bicycle! We NEVER thought we would have to share our code words with anybody. It would be an inside family secret. We needed a word that we would all remember, however absurd or crude it was. We chose two words, one for each lock, "Piss" and "Fart". (I am blushing as I write this.Truly. I live in a house of boys, what can I say. "Shop" and "Mall" are not going to make the cut.)

My gracious friend hauls me to the library. I get out, walk over to the bike. I figure it'll be like the pickle jar lid. You know, where it's been loosened with the first three twists but the original "twister-of-the-lid" has given up too soon, so the next person comes to the rescue and "pop", it comes right off with minimal effort and the first "twister" feels like a dork while the second "twister" feels quite proud. No, that never happens at your house?........yeah, it doesn't happen here either.

Anyway. That is NOT the effect it had. That sucker wasn't budging! I said a four letter word, "crap". I asked my friend to take me to my house so I could get the instructions. She hauls me over to my house, I go searching for the instructions. Found them in the first place I looked. (WOW!). I also grab the other lock. I hop back in her van to go back to the library. I read the instructions. There isn't anything about unlocking a stuck lock. Nothing. Nada. Zip, zero, zilch.

The Police Dept. is next door to the library. I tell Charlie to walk over with me. I release my friend on to her life, so our dramatic life can finally reach a resolution. I'm wearing a pink sweater. My hair is curly. I have makeup on. I'm looking cute that particular day. (WOW!) We walk into the station (a 39 year old mom with her 7th grade son). We ask for help. Dispatch sends out a cop, complete with gun on the hip. I smile and breathe. I tell him what's going on. I show him the instructions as well as the other chain/lock that I picked up when I went to the house. He examined the chain/lock and commented how bicycle chains are better than they used to be. He may not be able to saw through it if that is what it comes down to. I think to myself a four letter word, "crap". He plays with chain/lock in his hand and asks for the word. I blush to about 3 shades pinker than my sweater and smile and say non-chalantly, "fart". His expression tried to hold a poker face, but I saw a flinch. He wasn't expecting a cute 39 year old mom of a 7th grade boy who happened to be with us to say "fart". He asked me again, pretending like he didn't hear me the first time. I'm pretty sure I shouted it the first time! Why he didn't hear it the first time, I don't know. So, I nodded my head and grinned and said, "fart".
Grrr...I'm thinking this is a long afternoon. We arrive at the bike. The reason Charlie called to tell me he was stranded. The reason my visit with my friend was cut short. The reason my friend had to schlep me and her kids to the library/my home/library. The reason I'm standing here, a good, up-standing, homeschooling mom of a 7th grader who happened to wear clothes, hair and makeup (all 3 on the same day. WOW!) having to ask a police officer for help with a stuck bicycle chain/lock. He squats down to examine the lock. He grapples with it. He then looks up at me (I know what his question is), I answer his unspoken question with a four letter word. "Piss".
Grrrr.
I was seriously hoping it didn't have the afore mentioned pickle jar effect. It didn't. He had to go get some wire cutters. (I'm sure he didn't say a word to anyone back at the station. Right? uhmm...Right!) He came back with some serious wire cutters! They were HUGE! He cut the chain. We thanked him and parted ways. Me embarrassed. Charlie relieved. Po-po with a new anecdote.
You're welcome Mister Officer. Glad to have contributed some humor to your typically stressful job (and to be the star of your next story at the water cooler).

Sid Slipped in the Shower

2010-06-17T12:36:00.000-07:00

Sid, my 5 month old sourdough starter who lives in my fridge, was in the ICU of my kitchen recently. Sid has doubled in size within the last 5 months and abides in a large (warehouse size) pickle jar. He is quite happy there and doesn't make quite as much hooch as he used to make when rooming in the smaller mason jar. Sid has made several loaves of bread and rolls for our family and friends. He gets attention every day with a wooden spoon (no, not a spanking, but a good stirring). He gets fed every 11-14 days (like he likes it). He shares himself. We've had a great 5 months. Until...

I, being a good mommy, ignored the messy room for a while. Then, I had enough of the caked-on-ooze on the sides of the jar. I missed glancing in the fridge and seeing Sid and looking through the clear glass jar (it is big after all) to see what was behind his "room". I removed Sid from the fridge. I poured him a bowl. He bubbled and was happy. I soaked the pickle jar. I fed Sid. I put a Saran Wrap Quick Cover on him (they look like shower caps, so I'm going to call it the shower cap). BUT, I left one side of the shower cap off of the rim of the bowl because I knew Sid would need air to breath as well as not to suffocate himself with his "gas" that he gives off. So, Sid wore the shower cap for 24 hours before I noticed that the shower cap must have slipped over his bowl securely. OH NO!!!! MY LITTLE SID!!!

I peeled back the shower cap. There were only two tiny, minuscule little bubbles floating on top. I wasn't even sure if these could be considered true bubbles. Was my Sid dead? Could Sid be revived?

I kicked my little boy friend off the computer and Googled a solution. My little Sid was made with milk, sugar and flour. Every sourdough starter solution I could find was assuming water and flour was the base. Then, my sourdough mom's intuition kicked in. I left Sid out on the counter so he could come to room temperature. I stirred him vigorously. I fed him. I saw a few more bubbles. I poured him into the clean pickle jar (his room) and placed him back in the fridge. Three days later, I made two loaves of bread with Sid. Yum.

Sid and I have now bonded.

RED ALERT! RED ALERT!

2010-06-09T14:00:00.000-07:00

I am aware that I haven't completed my 40 Loaves in 40 Days bread project.

Yet.

I'm lost in space, in the bread galaxy, warp speeding along in my hunk of junk.

I've gone through a meteor storm and my dog was almost taken out. He was hours from death. That happened twice. Currently, he's recovered (I think) and he's still with me. But he was almost toast.

Then there's the issue of the young Padawans. Their formal instruction to tend to. We must finish that in a reasonable amount of time (they would like a Summer break, as would I).

I have received intel about a possible change in docking stations, also. Our family is attempting to purchase a home here in the vicinity of Forest Grove, Oregon. We have made 3 attempts and 2 of them have failed. We are in the middle of attempt #3, but have hit a big snag. We do desire to land soon as this ship is not going to carry us too much longer. It's just costing us too much dough.

Captain Friend has switched employers and we are now on course for a less turbulent journey, but one can never be too sure. Turbulence is what keeps me awake! Turbulence is my life. Turbulence makes me happy.

I hope you can hear the sarcasm in that. Hey, how do ya like my pilot's hat?

Once we find a place to dock or rest, I'll explore my last 3 bread recipes.

Wondering Through the Bread Galaxy

2010-05-19T08:41:00.000-07:00

If you have been reading about my bread journey, you have likely noticed that I haven't posted anything new. That's because I haven't baked anything new. My last entry was how I was going to warp speed ahead to the last frontier of bread making (the last 3 breads/days). Well, let me tell you right now that my life has truly been in warp speed since I posted that. I really had no idea at the time of that Captain's Log entry what was awaiting.

1)James had two companies interviewing him (one that would require a move to PA. and one would allow us to stay here).

2)James went to Dallas to interview/hire-on with the company that would allow us to stay here and managed to get delayed there an extra night and day because of the weather @ DFW airport and the Metroplex.

3)The boys and I have started volunteering at Harvey Clarke Elementary in a first-grade classroom

4) Moving...we are considering that "M" word again. Staying in Forest Grove, yes. Just perhaps not in this $ pit rental. That's all I'll say about that for now.

5) End-of-School push = planning, pacing and re-structuring and possibly extending some subjects and finishing some sooner....hmmmm..

That's it. That's my life in "warp".
I will get to my next bread destination. I'll find time to stop and explore.
We'll be amazed.

Warp Speed

2010-05-10T15:42:00.000-07:00

Bread Captain's Log. Stardate May 2010.

I have made several bread recipes over and over again because we like them. I did not blog about repeated attempts unless something was noteworthy. Honestly, I've gotten pretty good at making some of the bread so there really hasn't been anything worth writing about. So, because I have made more than 40 loaves of bread already, I am skipping 5 recipes/days/loaves. (if you don't like my math, then count the individual total # of rolls, doughnuts, scones and bagels I have made and then let me warp ahead with good conscience.)

PSHEWWW (said as if the Starship Enterprise was going into warp speed to some other part of the universe).

I am now looking at 3 days of bread making left. ~~Days~~ planets 38, 39 and 40 await my exploration.

Planet 38: Sopf
Planet 39: Croissant
Planet 40: Cranky

Random Redux

2010-05-07T10:50:00.000-07:00

"He/she who returns from a journey is not the same as he/she who left." (anonymous)

Anonymous must have gone on a 40 day -anger -management- bread- making -journey like myself (see above photo for reference). Next 40 days, I'll be sweatin' to the oldies trying to remove the "bread" around my mid-section!

Just thought I'd re-post some photos/blog posts from my 40 day bread journey. Some you may remember, some you may not. I've hi-lighted the title of the photo so you can click on it and read the full story at your convenience.

And...Just FYI, I won't be baking bread or blogging for the next 3-4 days. I'm preparing for the last few recipes. And, I would just like to note that some of these breads have been made several times since the first attempt/posting. So, if I could count those times to earn me 5 days, then, all I need are 4 more bread-making days to end this 40 day journey.

Then... 40 days of sweat!

Ewwww...blech!

PHOTOS and POSTINGS:

Day 1

Schticky Schtuff

http://punchbowl-friends.blogspot.com/2010/03/day-4-life-is-bread-40-loaves-for-40.html

Funnel Cake Fun

French Triplets

Doughnuts For Dinner

Sid's Sourdough Showdown

Holy Hamburger Buns, Batman!

Refrigerator Rolls

Bagels

Bread Boogers

I Used an Alaskan

If you made it this far down, kudos for you.

Thank you for reading.

If I could, I'd hug your neck and share some bread with you!

Snarky is Snomore

2010-05-06T15:56:00.000-07:00

For those who have kept up with the life and times of Snarky the 35 year old sourdough starter, I have some tragic news for you today.

My friend Julie, who hosted Snarky for a few weeks, reports that Snarky is gone. Now, she didn't say "dead", she just said "gone". As you know, sourdough starter ferments, so most starters reak of ...
of....
well...
alcohol.
So, to say that Snarky had an alcohol problem is stating a fact.

The following quote is from Julie.

"Sorry, Snarky is all gone. I called him Bob. He smelled funky, and I just didn't have it in me to rescue him again. He had a tendency to smell VERY strongly of alcohol" .

Here's a photo of Snarky. Last seen in the Spring 2010, Banks, Oregon.

Goodbye, Snarky. You'll be remembered by some of us. God speed.

Day 31: Pucker Up You Corny Blueberry

2010-05-04T08:57:00.000-07:00

Uh huh. Made you look (read).

Yeah, yeah, yeah, so I made another quick bread. I double dog dare you to make bread for a 40 day project and you tell me if by day 31 you don't need a quick bread recipe or two.

So what did I make? Lemony Corn Blueberry Muffins. I think that says it all. If not, here's the photos:

Dear Bread Diary, My Love,

2010-05-03T09:24:00.000-07:00

...My yummy precious homemade goodness...bread. (Say it softly.) Mmmmmmmmmmmm. Just thinking about the last 30 days and bread recipes causes me to go into a wheat/gluten/carb induced fog. A fun sort of fog. A dream-like state.

I have maintained my round figure through eating bread, and yet...even more bread. I've never eaten so much bread in such a short amount of time. It's been lovely. Like a little vacation. The kind where meals are all inclusive and you just eat and eat and eat. I'll wake up from this in 10 more days.

I'm not as angry. Perhaps having a 40 day project to focus on has helped tremendously. Add to that the emergence of Spring and longer daylight hours ( 5:30am- 9:20pm) and I suppose we have the makings of a happier Michelle.

Perhaps my next 40 day project will be 40 days of sweat. Ewww.. but, what's a girl to do after eating bread for 40 days? I doubt it will be as fun. But, I can sweat out the anger, the anxieties, the bitterness, the rest of my emotional dregs. Yuck. I think the trick would be to find 40 different ways to break a sweat (and of course maintain that sweat for 30 minutes). Sounds challenging and daunting.
I'm not sure I want to come out of my foggy way of life.

I love you bread,
xoxo M.

Day 30: Peanut Butter Bread

2010-04-30T08:02:00.000-07:00

Busy days call for quick breads. Quick breads don't usually have yeast and therefore, don't usually need to rise. Because of that, I can shave 1 1/2 hours off of my bread making time! Woo Hoo!

Don't get me wrong, I have enjoyed making homemade bread. And I will probably continue the practice well after this 40 day project is over. It's difficult to go back to the store-bought stuff. But, in a busy life, convenience is key.

So, after perusing my 30 cookbooks for bread recipes (note to self: the first time you peruse, reference the cookbook, not just the recipe and page #), I found one that my boys were interested in. They love PB&J sandwiches, so how fun would it be to have the bread already peanut butter flavored? The recipe not only called for peanut butter, but also oatmeal. Seems healthy enough, so I quickly made the bread. I used natural peanut butter (because we don't eat the sugar laden stuff) and old fashioned oats. The bread was still sweet because it had 3/4 cup sugar in it. (I might cut back on that # and try it with honey next time). Anyway, the bread turned out not only beautiful (which was an aesthetic success) but also tasty.

Avoidance

2010-04-28T09:44:00.000-07:00

I had to get out of this house. I'm trying to avoid making bread for a few days. I hopped on the highway and followed a Franz Bread Truck. How funny. I'm trying to avoid bread, and then the truck happens.

"Franz. The Good Bread"

Day 29: I'm Lookin' Over a 4 Leaf Clover

2010-04-26T09:21:00.000-07:00

Well, I'm not really looking over a 4 leaf clover. But I did make Cloverleaf Rolls.

It wasn't difficult at all. The only unfortunate thing that happened was I forgot to brush melted butter on the tops before baking.
Sad.
I think it would have been nice to have had shiny tops instead of the matte finish that they had. Oh well. They were still good. We ate them without butter. *GASP* And they make pretty good ham and mayo sandwiches the next day. On day 3, you should toast them with a little butter to accompany your coffee. Then, they ought to be all gone. If not, then you are on you own as to what to do with them if you have any on day 4.

You may not know this, but my little Charlie found a 4 leaf clover. Yep. I do not lie. It happened like this. We were hiking out near Silver Falls and we stopped for a snack break.

Charlie was bored and hyper. I, in an attempt to occupy him for what would be a hopefully quiet and contemplative 3 minutes, suggested he look for a 4 leaf clover. We were sitting near a HUGE patch of clover that covered some interesting terrain. I told him that I had heard that there is usually one 4 leaf clover within every 12 square inches. I have searched for a 4 leaf clover my whole life when opportunity has presented itself because it seems so simple to find one, however, I have never found one. Maybe he could.

I no sooner finished telling him this and he replies, "like that one there", as he points over by a tree about 3 feet away. I laugh. I say, "Charlie, there isn't one there. Well, I guess there could be". He says, "no, really, right there". He walks over with me following him and SURE ENOUGH, THERE'S A 4 LEAF CLOVER!!

Day 28: My Little Monkey

2010-04-23T08:28:00.000-07:00

For those who may not know, Charlie (my ~~son~~ monkey) fell from a tree last week and injured himself. All was going well up until 5:30p.m. last Tuesday. Charlie thought he'd make a grappling hook. He took a hook that is typically used to hang a bicycle, tied a rope to it, had his brother attach it to the tree and try it out to see if it would hold. Of course it held for Autry (he's light and agile). Charlie, on the other hand...well...the bark gave way and the hook slipped off.

DOWN

WENT!

CRASH!

Apparently, Autry was up in the tree (at the height of his second floor window) and yelling for us. Here's the tree:

We, did not hear the commotion because we are like the parents who listen to screams and sound effects all day and have learned to tune most of that ~~crap~~ noise out. Plus, we were getting ready to leave to go out for the evening to our small group meeting. Autry jumped after 2 minutes of yelling and "no-show-parents" (and no, he didn't hurt himself). He came in to get us and when we arrived at the scene, there was my little monkey in a heap and crying. He couldn't move his right arm. I had to cut his favorite sweatshirt off of him.

This was his favorite sweatshirt!

We put ice on his shoulder and gave him some ibuprofen. We hauled him to small group with us. A friend of ours, who is a doctor, checked him out and the next day, we made an appointment with the pediatrician. A week later, he had x-rays and we found out that Charlie's arm is broken. It's more like a stress fracture but it's "broken". He just needs to keep it immobilized (for the most part) and wait because, "time will have to heal this one". It's in an unusual spot, so there isn't any re-setting or casts. Take your right arm and reach behind your back to scratch between your left shoulder blade. Now imagine falling on your arm like that. That's how he landed. So the break was the bone (proper name escapes me) in front of the shoulder where the muscles all join. I'm sure you felt the stretch when you imagined falling on the arm.

The monkey boy is bored. He's a real pest when he's bored. There isn't too much he can do So, he's skipping out on chores. He gets to scale back on some school work (good thing we home school). He is driving me and his brother crazy! He did regress to playing with his toy soldiers. That lasted 30 minutes!

I made Charlie some Monkey Bread tonight. I didn't take the shortcut and use canned biscuits. I made a yeast dough and let it go through 2 risings and pinched off little 1 1/2 inch balls, rolled them in butter, sugar, brown sugar and cinnamon.

Which grew into:

MMMMMM....monkey bread!

Day 27: Sid's Country Cousins

2010-04-22T09:41:00.000-07:00

I had to make sourdough bread today or throw out a one-cup scoop of the starter. I made two loaves of "Country Crust Sourdough" from the Southern Living Cookbook (1987). I have been stressed all week to get things done around the house. I haven't made bread in a few days and I had no more blog entries. Charlie has a broken arm. James is having a rough few weeks of work. The dog wants out. The dog wants in. Laundry might get finished today (relative term: finished. HA!). The house needs to get cleaned. I need to tailor some school work for Charlie. The dog wants out again! I need to get the steak marinating. And then, I need to make bread.

Bread. It's typically a 3 hour ritual. Not that I am consumed for 3 hours, but the process takes about 3 hours from start to finish. So, carving out time to fool with mixing, kneading, checking the rising dough and cleaning up the mess all with little breaks thrown in throughout the process is sometimes tricky to figure out. But I did it!

This is Sid (my sourdough stater who happens to be 42 days old today) and the beginning of the country cousins (two sourdough loaves).

I mixed everything and then I had to knead the dough for 12 minutes.

I stuck the country cousins in Bob to rise. About 45 minutes later, I peeked inside and saw this:

Once the country cousins finished ~~singing~~ baking and the house was infused with smell of sourdough bread, I introduced Sid to the cousins.

We all got along quite well.

Dressed Up Snarky

2010-04-21T09:28:00.000-07:00

For those of you who have read or heard about Snarky Sourdough, you may be amused by the following photos. I was impressed with the some of the "activity" in Snarky's 35 years of life. If you missed the vacation photos, click here or click on Early Years for more photos. Hope you enjoy these.

.

Snarky at Prom Coronation 1992

Snarky at the Golden Globes in 20?? (can't remember details...too much hooch)

Snarky at Halloween "dressed up" as pancake batter. How original!

Day 26: OOOOH, Honey!

2010-04-20T08:40:00.000-07:00

Oatmeal Honey bread. It tastes like...like...

There once was this little bee who lived near fields of wheat and oats. Of course, there were all sorts of wildflowers nearby as well. The little bee made bread with the resources of the land and created oatmeal honey bread.

The recipe I used to create the two loaves were from a friend of mine. And let me tell you, she's as busy as a bee and this bread recipe is amazing! It's very moist. It's honey and oat-full. I'm not sure which I like more about it, the honey or the oats. Or the fact that it makes 2 loaves. Hmmm...

I wasn't sure how it would turn out because I used Old Fashioned rolled oats instead of the Quick Oats. I also wasn't sure if both loaves would come out all right (I tend to not have success with more than one loaf). But, alas, I had two loaves that baked to yummy goodness. We ate one and the other is in the freezer.

Tomorrow, I make Cranky Bread. If you click on that link, you'll see what I'll be working with.
I'm gearing up for it. I'll crank out a blog post for ya afterwards. Har, har!

Day 25: I Used an Alaskan

2010-04-19T09:03:00.000-07:00

I used an Alaskan Amber bottle of beer to make bread. This is the EASIEST bread to make. EVER!
Fo Reelz, Sistah. I do not lie. The picture shows 3 ingredients and a loaf of bread. How easy is that? Anger management...well, that's where beer comes in handy. One bottle for the bread. One bottle for me. (and some Lynyrd Skynyrd in the background)

Actually, the day before, I attempted beer biscuits. They were epic fail. I used a different recipe today and made a loaf of bread.
SUCCESS!

Recipe for Beer Bread:

3 cups of self-rising flour

3 tablespoons sugar

1 can/bottle of beer

Combine ingredients, mixing well. Let sit for 20 minutes. Dance around to the music. Pour into greased loaf pan and bake at 350 degrees for 25 minutes or so (til golden). Dance around some more.

Note: If using a darker beer, you may want to whip up some honey butter to serve with the bread to cut the strong beer flavor (recommended). Your bread won't taste like beer too much. It's the yeast in the beer that makes the bread rise and the more hoppy the beer, the more beer notes there will be. So, for some of you, you may just want to use good ol' American Budweiser and some others may want to use Guiness. If I were in Texas...ahhh...yes...I'd use a Shiner Bock.

Caution: your house will smell like a distillery, so don't invite any prudes over that day.

Cranky

2010-04-16T09:38:00.000-07:00

A friend at church brought me his grandmother's breadmaker machine. His grandmother and mother have made bread in it. My turn is coming. It's a metal bucket about the size of an old-fashioned ice cream maker bucket. It has a crank on the top that you have to assemble. It has a clamp that holds the bucket to the table/counter top. There's several pieces.

It apparently was a Gold Medal winner at the St. Louis World's Fair in 1904. It says so on the front of the bucket.

It has a bread hook that you crank by hand.

The instructions assume a girl knows how to make bread because on the lid it says," Put in all liquids first and then add flour..."

I'm going to make bread with this machine. I'm going to use a recipe I've used before, but I think I'll have to double the recipe in order to actually fill the bottom of the bucket in order for the bread hook/mixer to do it's job.

I'll keep ya posted.

Day 24: Beer Biscuits

2010-04-15T09:57:00.000-07:00

I didn't take pictures and I don't want to talk about it. I just want it to count towards my 40 days.
Keep movin'. There's nothing to see here. Just another failed attempt.

Day 23: Cinnamon Loaf

2010-04-14T09:54:00.000-07:00

Cinn-ahhh-MAHN (the last part should be sung with full vibrato).

Well, sort of like that.

Here is how my day went down on the day I made cinnamon loaf. I woke up late. I let the dog out. I caught my sweater (that James claims will be my 80-year-old-lady-sweater. Yes, it's my favorite around the house sweater and it's better than a robe because I don't get tangled up in it when I sit down. Don't ask. It's 15 years old and nobody has to see it except me and my guys.) on FIRE. I got my laundry started (finished would be 2 days later and even the term "finished" when applied to laundry is vague). I made the dough and put in Bob for it's first rising. I fed the dog. I showered. I let the dog out. I chased the dog down. I ate breakfast. I took my vitamins. I made my first attempt to get on-line. I brushed my teeth. I checked on the dough. WHAT!?? IT'S BEEN AN HOUR AND THE DOUGH HAS NOT DOUBLED IN BULK! I re-boil the water and crank up Bob to a cozy 170 degrees. I go check on the internet attempt. NOPE, not cooperating. I make attempt #2. I switch laundry out. I get the boys started on their school work. I tidy up the living room. I remember the oven and go turn it off and put the pot of water in again. I check on the computer. I check bank acct., email, FB, Google, and a few news articles. Thirty minutes later, I go check on the dough. It's beginning to rise a little more and at a faster pace. My friend calls and is ready to pick me up (I'm helping her today at her house with a project of hers). I get dressed. I grab my stuff to finish the bread with. I go to friend's house and do the second half of the instructions for my cinnamon loaf. I help friend. I answer phone calls from my kids who have questions. My friend's house begins to smell of yummy, yeasty, cinnamon goodness. I come home and make the glaze for the loaf and drizzle it on. I lose control and slice into the loaf (uhmm, for pictures' sake). I sample. I hear angels in the architecture! I walk away from the kitchen to go write about it (for distraction). But, now, it's all coming back to me.
The End.
Enjoy the photos.

Day 22: ...bagels

2010-04-13T10:14:00.000-07:00

Bagels.

I made them. I have thumbed past the recipe several times in the past few weeks. I had looked over the recipe and decided "too complicated". Well, this week has been quite a week for me emotionally and so I was in need of a challenge. So, I made bagels. If pictures are worth a thousand words, then here's a picture of me and the enthusiasm I felt at the thought of making bagels.

Hey! It took me 2 weeks to muster up this amount of enthusiasm!

Here are the un-glamorous steps/photos/commentary:
1) make the dough
NO PHOTO
2) knead the dough (10 minutes) I had to have what they called a "heavily floured surface" to knead this dough on. Well, let me show you what a heavily floured surface turns into when I knead bread for 10 minutes (this photo was taken after just 1 minute of kneading, so you can imagine x9 more minutes).

I was kneading in a billowing cloud of flour *ACHOO* I and my kitchen became a heavily floured surface.

3) let dough rise Hello, Bob!

4) make 12 equal portions of dough balls

5) punch hole in center with thumb and pull dough out from center of bagel near the hole to create a 1" hole

6) BROIL (2 minutes)

Note the discoloration on the bagel on the right. The outer layer of dough becomes freckled and hardened (much like sun damage).

7) BOIL

8)Embellish with salt, cinnamon/sugar, sesame seeds, etc.

9) BAKE

10) ~~eat~~ sample

and here's a picture of me after I cleaned up and ate my homemade bagel

Day 21: Tortilla Cocina

2010-04-12T16:30:00.000-07:00

Fridays have been "Fry-days". I make fried bread.

This time, I made tortillas. They are cooked on a hot griddle, so it's sort of like frying, but not quite. Not sure what to call it.

Alas, homemade tortillas are easy and so yummy! You don't even need fillings for tacos, burritos or fajitas. You can eat one as soon as you pull it off the stove. You can dip it in queso (cheese sauce), salsa or melted butter. You can wrap them in foil and save them for later. Whatever you do, you can't go wrong with homemade tortillas.

Recipe:

4 cups flour
2 teaspoons salt (or less)
6 Tablespoons shortening
1 - 1 1/4 cup lukewarm water

Sift flour and salt. Work in shortening and stir in a cup of water then form a dough ball. If you need to, use more water until bowl is clear of all dough. Knead dough on lightly floured surface ( about 1 minute). Make into ping pong ball size balls (that sounds funny when said out loud). Roll out until size of saucer or salad plate. Cook on hot ungreased griddle or skillet for 1-2 minutes on either side. They'll puff up in places, but that's ok, once they're removed from pan, they settle down.

Now eat 'em all up! That's what happened and there are no photos. We've eliminated the evidence.

Week 4: Dear Bread Diary

2010-04-11T10:54:00.000-07:00

Well, I'm halfway through this little self-appointed-anger-management-bread-making project. I'm sure this is the point where I am supposed to tell you "Thank you, bread. You have worked wonders for me. I am healed". Or maybe it's the point where insurance sends me a letter stating that I have now exceeded my 20 visits, the maximum in any one year, and that from here on out it's coming right out of my own pocket and by the way, thank you for being such a valued ~~sucker~~ client and also to please note that because of my diagnosis, my premium will now be increased and reflected on the next billing statement.

Oh wait. This wasn't covered by insurance. Of course. Silly me. It was considered alternative medicine.
Maybe I need to release the whole I'm-bitter-about-insurance thing. (?)

I can say that I am getting much better at making bread. Some bread recipes are getting easier for me as I have now made them several times (even though I didn't tell you I did). I have a deeper appreciation of the simplicity of walking into the grocery store and just picking up a bag of bread to take home. Nice. But, note, I am not at all impressed with the flavor however aesthetically pleasing to the eye it may seem. And I am curious as to how this store-bought stuff sits around for days and days without growing moldy or hardening. My bread can mold over and harden within 4-5 days! Actually, I don't want to know the reason for this. It will make me angry about what "they" are putting in my food supply that has wreaked so much havoc on my thyroid and metabolism. And that will just lead me to pre-existing conditions and insurance.

Having to focus on bread-making has been a good thing. I have to think about recipes, ingredients, preparation & scheduling rather than my poor, pitiful, self. I have taken more walks because I'm trying to keep the weight gain to a minimum,so I guess you can say I have added more exercise into my life. I have also started sharing my bread, which forces me to be more social.

All in all, I suppose I'm on the up and up.

Sincerely,
Dough Girl

Day 20: Plays Well With Others (refrigerator rolls; attempt #2)

2010-04-09T08:52:00.000-07:00

WOOOOOHOOOOO!!
BOOM BEBE!
THESE ROLLS ARE DOPE, DAWG!
THEY ARE DA BOMB!
THESE ARE STAND UP AND SLAP YOUR MAMMA ROLLS!
Remember that scene in "When Harry Met Sally"? Yeah, that one. (If you haven't seen it, go stream, download, rent, borrow it and you'll know the scene when you get to it.) You know the one. Well, these rolls can cause quite a commotion, I'll just say that. If you want the recipe, you'll have to contact me. Here are the pictures and if I could give you scratch and sniff computing, I would. Just know they smell heavenly. If I could have bath oils or candles or shampoo or body wash that smelled like these rolls, I would...I would... well, I don't know what I would.

Anyway, ya'll have read about Sid (not to be confused with Snarky), the sourdough starter that has taken up residence in my fridge. Sid now has a fridge-mate. Sally moved in. Sally is the refrigerator roll dough and she changes every week. Refrigerator roll dough is dough that gets to hang out in your fridge in an air tight bowl until you need it. And baby, I need it! The dough will keep for 4-5 days and then it will need a purpose.

"When Sid Met Sally"

Oh yeah, pictures of the rolls... here they are.

Those were the first attempt. FAIL!

HERE ARE THE CHAMPIONS!

All 24 little balls in 1 pan. Trust me. They like to cozy up together and play.

See. Told ya so!

Careful, as they say on the ranch, these will cause your skirt to fly up!

...And try to show restraint when sampling them warm from the oven.

Day 19: Death & Taxes Bread

2010-04-08T08:42:00.000-07:00

The saying about there being two certain things in life: Death and Taxes, comes to mind today. I, Michelle, can also count on screwing up bread loaves. I can count 7 days worth of "good" bread and obviously 12 days of "bad" bread. (Yes, I judge by aesthetics. I'm working on changing how I judge things.)

Good bread: beignets, doughnuts, BLT bread, sourdough rolls, hamburger buns, hot cross buns and bread sticks and something else.

We won't talk about the failed attempts. Pictures are worth a thousand words.

These were ill-fated attempts at culinary scrumptousness.

Here are my Death and Taxes Bread. Two loaves of inevitable......

Where's the nice dome top? Where did this floury top come from? Where's the golden color?

Bread making could be the death of me. I owe taxes. I ~~need~~ knead dough.

Day 18: Raising the Bar

2010-04-07T12:49:00.000-07:00

Since we were eating Italian food for dinner, I decided to make soft breadsticks. With any luck, they would be as tasty as the Olive Garden's. I am sure there are better breadsticks out there, but my boy friends (my sons), love the O.G.'s. That's the standard to which to rise.

I found a yummy recipe in my Southern Living Cookbook (yes, I use that one book so often that the other 31 cookbooks rarely see the light of day. Why do I keep so many cookbooks? Why do I buy more? Why can I stay engrossed in a cookbook for hours, like I can with maps and a dictionary and an encyclopedia and the Twilight Series? A friend gave me this little credit card holder made from a portion of a Texas map (because if it were the whole map, it would then be luggage) and she didn't know this, but that little holder held my rapt attention for 30 minutes! Ok, don't pyscho-analyze me now, just read about my breadsticks, please).

I used minced garlic from a jar (and something like a whole heaping tablespoon of garlic too. Emphasis on heaping.I like garlic. Funny, I like vampire stories too. hmmmm...). I also didn't make the sticks 8" long because I thought they'd end up too skinny. In the picture, you can see my lovely, garlic-y dough ball. (And don't get me started on the stinky bread boogers this created!). I divided this ball in half and then from the two halves, divided those into half, so that I had fourths of this one beautiful ball. That's about all the fractions I could handle. I had a headache. Well, even without the headache, fractions I guess would've given me a headache. I'm rambling. This is how I made A's in English Composition in college. Beef up the paper with B.S. And of course I used better grammar than I do now. hahahaha! I hear crickets chirping.

Next, I used a knife (though some have nifty scissors with which to cut dough, pie crust, chicken, etc.) to slice 5 or 6 strips from each of the four dough balls. Let's see, that made between 20 and 24 sticks. Yay, I can still multiply too! I rolled them like I used to roll cigarettes. Just kidding. I didn't ever do that. But what I did do is roll Play Dough into little cigarettes (or worms). Why was smoking cigarettes so glamorous to me as a child? Does it have anything to do with the sort of reading materials I find interesting? I was saying I rolled them like cigarettes but they were more chubby like cigars. The big Cuban kind, not the Swisher Sweets. For a non-smoker this is the extent of my knowledge of cigars and cigarettes. I'm done with this paragraph. Snuff said.

I dipped the ~~"cigars"~~ ~~worms~~ ~~snakes~~ ropes in melted butter and placed them on a greased cookie sheet to go rest in Bob for 45 minutes.

(They don't double in bulk, they just spread out a little wider, like my butt has done since beginning this 40 days for 40 loaves trek.) My eldest boy friend suggested I sprinkle the tops with salt like they do at the O.G. What a great idea! I did.

The house smelled of garlic-y bread. My two boy friends announced that these were better than the Olive Garden's. And the breadstick bar has now been raised.

Snarky's Vacation Photos

2010-04-06T10:46:00.000-07:00

Hi All,

Snarky sends greetings to you. (click here for history of Snarky, the 35 year old sourdough starter)

The following pictures are of Snarky at various vacationing spots around the country. As you know, from the Random Facts post, sourdough is very adaptable to it's environment. This makes Snarky a great tourist. A vagrant of sorts. A fragrant vagrant.

Snarky at South Padre Isle, TX.

Snarky at Yosemite National Park, CA.

Grand Canyon, AZ., with the Kid.

Snarky and the Kid went to the California Redwoods,too. Can you find Snarky?

Just before the Winter Olympics, Snarky went to Whistler in Vancouver, BC.

Dear Bread Diary (Week 3)

2010-04-05T16:28:00.000-07:00

I realize now that I've been judging "good" and "bad" bread by aesthetics. I've been so shallow.
My family says the bread has been good and tasty. I agree. And the aroma has been unbelievable. I haven't had to light a candle or turn on my Scentsy in quite a few weeks. So, forgive me for not loving the looks of you.

I also have discovered that once I've eaten you, my belly doesn't feel...bloated? irritated? poisoned? Like my innards are all broken out in a bad case of hives? I can't get the words right, but I don't feel poorly after eating you as opposed to your store bought imposter.

Another thing I've noticed; that on the days where I knead you for 10 minutes, the next day, my upper abs hurt. I think it's from using a downward force with both of my hands pushing you down against the counter top. My triceps are also getting a work-out when I have to use my wooden spoon to mix Sid, the sourdough starter to make bread. Nice.

sincerely,
Dough Girl

ps- I really miss fooling with you on the days I have other things to do besides give you my full attention. Could it be that I'm beginning to love you?

Day 17: One a Penny, Two a Penny

2010-04-04T20:11:00.000-07:00

HOT CROSS BUNS!

Mr. Friend and my boy Friends (sons) say these are their favorite thus far. I made them for Good Friday. I know, I know, Friday is supposed to be "fry-day" (fried bread day) but, it was Good Friday, the Friday before Easter Sunday. And Hot Cross Buns are traditional Easter fare.

Wikipedia:

"Sharing a hot cross bun with another is supposed to ensure friendship throughout the coming year, particularly if "Half for you and half for me, Between us two shall goodwill be" is said at the time. Because of the cross on the buns, some say they should be kissed before being eaten. If taken on a sea voyage, hot cross buns are said to protect against shipwreck. If hung in the kitchen, they are said to protect against fires and ensure that all breads turn out perfectly. The hanging bun is replaced each year."

Oops. I forgot to keep one to hang in the kitchen to "ensure all breads turn out perfectly". Didn't kiss them either. I did share the buns though.

Here's what I did:

I made the dough. The spices I used were: cinnamon, cardamom, nutmeg and raw sugar. When mixed together, they combine to make what reminds me of South Padre Island, TX beach sand. I had to take a picture! See the resemblence?

I rolled the dough out flat and sprinkled on raisins and the S. Padre sand. I folded the dough over itself and pressed it out flat again and sprinkled more raisins and more S. Padre sand and repeated that process once more. And then, I pinched off 18 little pieces and rolled them in my hands to make little balls. I put them on a greased cookie sheet and let rise in Bob and then baked them. Then, I had to wait. The house smelled of cinnamon and yeast bread. Wait. I crocheted. Wait. I got caught up on my hometown news via the Mineral Wells index. Wait. I prepared the icing (which should have been thicker). Wait. The buns need to be completely cool before icing them. And then....

I ate one.

Day 16: Refrigerator Rolls (attempt #1)

2010-04-02T10:42:00.000-07:00

These are supposed to be the easiest of rolls. The dough gets made and it gets locked in an airtight bowl with lid. It takes 24 hrs to rise and can live in the fridge for 5 days until needed. All that is true.

Four days went by and I decided to bake some rolls. How could I screw this up?

I roll 24 little balls in my hands and place them in two greased 13"x9" baking pans. (FYI: the glass pan looked to have better results.)

I put them in Bob to rise.

They rise. They begin to look good.

Perhaps I thought (hoped) they could get a little bigger (higher). So, I left them in Bob a wee bit longer than 35 minutes.

More like 38 minutes. And, then, I went and peeked inside Bob and they were....

F - L -A-T

I baked the suckers. The men saw them and suggested gravy be served with the biscuits. Biscuits?! ROLLS!

We ate the ~~pucks~~ rolls.

Their saving grace was the flavor. Because their flavor was similar to that of store bought "Hawaiian Bread", we decided I shouldn't write them off. So, in a few days, I'll try again. You know I'll keep you posted.

Bread Boogers

2010-04-01T09:56:00.000-07:00

WARNING: THIS POSTING CONTAINS DISGUSTINGLY GROSS CONTENT!

They're called boogers, or boogies or goobers or whatever you call those pesky things your child picks from their nose. You find them on the wall sometimes beside your child's bed. Or stuck to their car seat. Or stuck to the Lazy Boy chair. Or just sticking to the side of their nose.

They are sticky little suckers. And when they dry, it's like someone took Gorilla Glue and attached them to wherever they happen to be. I've had to get a scraper in my toddler's room before I could paint. Nah...we just painted over them...more texture.

I just wanted to give you a heads up about one of the many ramifications of bread making. You should be aware of: Bread Boogers. No, they don't live in your nose. They live...well...they live in your kitchen. Mostly. They migrate though, like into the laundry.

The thing is, when you are cleaning up from your bread-making experience, these little boogers start popping up. Where? On the sponge. On the counter. On the sink. In the sink. On the utensils. On the mixer. On the bowls. On the pans. On the oven door handle. On the floor. On the cabinet doors. On the canisters. On the backsplash. On the window. In your hair. On the refrigerator. On your ranch back in Texas. On a clean dishtowel. On your apron. On your pants. On the dog.

Gross! I know! You're telling me!? I've been daily picking these things off of my kitchen. And if you happen to get a gooey one, just try flicking it off! There's no picking and flicking. These little gooey ones can enlarge to 3x their size!

I haven't figured out if I should tend to them when they're gooey or when they're dry. Did you know that paper mache glue is made from flour and water? I mention this because, that's essentially what bread is made up of as well. So, you can imagine what a dried bread booger is like. And don't even get me started on how difficult they are to get out of washed and dried towels. No, no, no, we won't go there!

Now, if you are curious enough, I am posting pictures below. Don't judge me. You make bread everyday for 20 days and we'll see how your kitchen fares.

Exhibit A: The Sponge (ewwwwww)

Exhibit B: Side of Bowl (you expect them there)

Exhibit C: Rim of Sink approx. 2mm

Exhibit D: dried on the counter (it was mostly floured and was on a floured surface, so, you just scrape it up with little effort and toss it into the trash)

Exhibit E: Wooden Spoon (you wash your dishes and you think everything is clean. Then, you realize one bread booger must have made the transfer from sponge to wooden spoon when you weren't looking.)

Exhibit F: The Little Booger!! (found a tiny one next to the Ivory Dish Soap after I scoured everything and thought we were Bread Booger-free)

You may now go back to your booger-free lives. This posting is over.

Day 15: Holy Hamburger Buns, Batman!

2010-03-31T10:04:00.000-07:00

YUMMY. YUMMY. YUMMY. YUMMY. YUMMY.YUMMY. YUMMY. YUMMY. YUMMY.

ALL GONE!

Note: There's no going back to store bought after eating these buns!

Day 14: Schticky Schtuff

2010-03-29T20:04:00.000-07:00

Pizza Dough.
Sticky.
Gummy.
Smelly.
Yummy.

Making homemade pizza crust is like...hmm...is like...child birth? Parenting? It's a pain in the you-know-where, and yet, so rewarding. You don't really know what the heck you're doing until...well, I haven't gotten that far yet.

I have this recipe for pizza dough and it's truly a yummy recipe. My family's favorite. However, it calls for a soft dough (which in bread making terms means: sticky). You absolutely must have floured hands, fingers and counter space to ~~deal~~ ~~manage~~ ~~touch~~ ~~roll~~ make this dough. I have made this crust 5 times in my life and I still don't have the hang of it yet. I forget how it provokes me to anger and wrath and swearing "I'll never make this again!" (Say that loudly, like you did that day you had to clean up 8 red Kool-Aid spills on white carpet within 2 hours. Oh, that wasn't you? Sorry. I must be projecting).

I had already made the dough and it was in Bob (see photo: 200 degree oven and hot pot of water) waiting for it's golden moment. Mr. Friend, my sweetie pie, with a pleasant smile on his face, in his most helpful, sincere voice said, "Honey, don't worry about it, I'll make it". I snorted/laughed. I answered with an innocent, demure little voice, "O.K., are you sure?".

Mr. Friend didn't know the way of the pizza crust. He put 2 cups of flour on the counter top. He thought he could lightly flour his fingers and then pick up the dough ball. He touched it and it became like bubble gum in an irritable, strong-willed, can't-stand-still, I'll-do-it-myself toddler's hair (sorry, projecting again).

I heard schmack. Schplatt. Schitt! It was apparent Mr. Friend needed some anger management therapy (like me. Which is why I'm supposed to be making bread and not allowing someone else to do it for me). I laughed. I laughed some more. The tension in my life dissipated while Mr. Friend's tension started getting more intense. After he attempted to roll it out/toss it/stretch it/throw it/smash it/cuss it/schmack it, I offered to help. Mr. Friend, in a rather booming voice, said, "NO! Don't Do! Anything"! Me, being an obedient and helpful cohort: floured my hands, floured counter space, floured the roller and picked up the other dough ball. I rolled it out quite effortlessly and picked it up and turned it like a wheel while walking it to the pan (it stretches itself if you use gravity like a friend). It flops onto the pan and I begin dressing the pizza. Mine makes it into the oven first. Man, was I lucky to have it look so easy. I was a pro pizza crust maker (poser )for just a moment.

Mr. Friend finally threw his dough into the air. High into the air. Almost-to-the-ceiling high in the air. The dough was launched and as it hurled towards the ceiling, it spread out into a large 13" circle and landed in Mr. Friend's floured fingers and was placed on the other pan to be dressed. It was awe inspiring. He too, became a pro pizza crust maker (poser) for just a moment.

And just like child birth or child rearing, you forget how difficult it was/is. (Well, you don't forget that it was /is difficult, you just forget how difficult) You don't really know what the heck you're doing; it's all about flying by the seat of your pants (which is why pizza parlors sometimes have as part of its name, "Home of the Flying Pizza"). At the end of the day, you sit down to eat and you find joy. And, next Friday, it's pizza night all over again.

If you want the recipe for the crust, here's the link: http://www.caprialandjohnskitchen.com/recipes/print/2501.php

Day 13: FryDay Funnel Cakes

2010-03-29T09:38:00.000-07:00

What fun! Funnel cake batter is poured through a ...*pause and breathe* funnel.
Yep! It's true. Quite the original name. And, to make it even more fun, this batter is fried in hot oil and then sprinkled with powdered sugar. And then, for the real thrill, you EAT IT ALL UP!

*makes pretty decent crepe-like pancakes too, if you use the left-over batter the next morning *

Here's how it played out at our house Friday night. * NOTE: It's a 20-step process.

1) Eat dinner, go for a walk, run to Safeway for powdered sugar (and a few other spontaneous buys that were on sale).
2) Make funnel cake batter. So easy and so good!

3) Enlist help from Mr. Friend because frying in a Fry Daddy requires a "daddy", right? And because I thought he could handle the frying and I'd handle the ~~eating~~ sprinkling of the powdered sugar and cinnamon. I put cinnamon on them as well because cinnamon has a healthy effect on the body by helping regulate blood sugar (and my blood sugar was about to need help), as well as a myriad of other good things. Yeah, my logic is off, but did you also know that if you drink a 0 Calorie Diet drink and eat a Snickers bar, the diet drink will cancel out the calories of the Snickers? And of course, if you eat good food with good friends, none of the calories count!? Good thing our family name is Friend. And, by the way, why are calories considered energy? If energy is considered heat, then ice cream shouldn't count as caloric intake if you eat it? hmmm... I digress.
4) Laugh about and verbally notice (this should not be taken as criticism by the one doing the frying. Just sayin'.) how the gloopy batter isn't clumping together like it is supposed to do. Like the professionals get it to do at the fair. Like what we imagine a funnel cake to look like in our minds eye.
5) Sprinkle sugar and cinnamon.
6) Take a sampling
7) Offer advice on how to do the next one.
8) Take a sampling
9) Add more sugar because the first sprinkling was absorbed and I couldn't see it anymore (if you can't see it, then it doesn't exist, right?)
10) Say, "Well that didn't work either, I'll do the next one".
11) Take another sampling. Oops, it's all gone.

12) Help scrape the dough off of the Fry Daddy's cage and rescue the burning funnel nuggets (that's our new name for this concoction).

13) Sprinkle the sugar and cinnamon.

14) Yell at the kids to come eat this before it goes bad (funnel nuggets will turn on you with no warning).
15) Say, "Hey, I was going to do the next one" and then say, " Hmmm...that one almost turned out, too bad. I would like to do the next one".
16) Sprinkle sugar and cinnamon.
17) Quickly grab the funnel and batter and hold it over the oil. Start moving funnel and pouring the batter through. It's important that both hands work together here. The hot steam will burn your fingers and you'll move your funnel hand around trying to get away from the steam, but the batter hand will continue pouring and you'll run out of space within the Fry Daddy and then the batter hand will start getting a hot oil steam bath and you'll start muttering some choice words that sound like the work "funnel cake" and your cohort will be sampling funnel nuggets cluelessly nearby all the while. So will your kids. (This is where they hear "those" words that you ask them later in another life, "Where did you hear that?!" and they, trying to protect your dignity, say, "I don't know." God love 'em! They weren't as clueless as you thought).
18) Hear the words from your cohort, "Hey, that one looks pretty good". (you bet your bippy it had better look good!).
19) Say, "I'm done. You can keep doing it if you want to. I'll just sit here and ~~eat~~ watch. I think you're doing a marvelous job".
20) Spend the rest of the evening with a belly ache and red fingers.

Dear Bread Diary!!! hiss

2010-03-28T12:58:00.000-07:00

I have no control over the end result. I DO THE BEST I can in the preparation AND THEN it's up to ??? to get you to rise. You fail half the time. You make me SO MAD! We don't have sandwich bread. I want to buy some. Yeah, that's right. The pre-made, pre-sliced and packaged stuff for $2.79/loaf! I'll show you!

STUPID BREAD! You make me look bad! Most people don't have any problems making this stuff. But woe to Michelle. Pity her. The Fool. The angry fool. Grrrrrrrrr.!!!!!! *snarl. knashing of teeth*

Why can't I make a decent LOAF OF BREAD???!!!
I'm going to win! I will be the bread winner! I will overcome and become a proficient bread maker! I will. I will. This will not be the end of me.

I love you bread. I hate you bread. I love you bread. I hate you bread.

You love me. You love me not. You love me. You love me not.

I think you are mad at me for being mad about paying taxes and I took it out on you. Maybe I shouldn't have. But, I thought you could take it. Next time, more love. More tenderness. I won't abuse you. Please forgive me, bread. We still have 25 more days to go. Let's try to get along.

Snarky's Story (the early years)

2010-03-26T10:44:00.000-07:00

Snarky wanted some old photos posted on here. Afterall, being a 35 yr-old sourdough starter is an accomplishment. I'm not sure if counts like dog years, but there should be some sort of shout out on the Today Show for ~~being~~ maintaining a sourdough for 35 years!

I'm thinking the story goes something this:
Kid - Mom, can I have a dog?
Mom - No! But, if you can keep a sourdough starter alive and healthy, we'll think about getting a dog.
Kid -

Kid grows up and invents Webkinz. The sourdough starter was the preliminary of the preliminary prototype for Webkinz. In a way, it was ol' skoole Webkinz. I'm going to stop writing Webkinz, because I do not in any way support or endorse Webkinz. If you click on Webkinz and order something, I get no $ from it. I haven't figured out how to monetize on the blogosphere yet. So, just send me a check directly if you happen to order a Webkinz. Of course, you could have a sourdough starter virtually for free!

Back to Snarky. And the old photos.

This photo was taken during the Big Chill in 1980. Snarky has fond memories of sledding with the Kid.

This is Snarky in 1984 at 10 yrs of age. The party was at Great Skate Roller Rink. Snarky remembers the first boy/girl skate, it was to the song "You're the Inspiration" by Chicago. Pizza on a sourdough crust was served. Snarky knew then that sourdough can make a difference in life. Snarky was inspired.

Snarky won first place in a Halloween Costume Contest. Snarky was cleverly disguised as......Pancake Batter. Clever, huh? Snarky says the costume was made from scratch.

Day 12: A Dozen Days, A Dozen Scones

2010-03-25T10:38:00.000-07:00

Here today and ~~gone~~ scone tomorrow. I made chocolate chip scones in my nifty scone pan.

I had a cup of Typhoo tea with my one scone. The other scones weren't accompanied by a beverage.
And it wasn't just me eating them.
There were others.
Honest.

Scones are considered a quick bread. They're quick to make and quick to eat. And just a tip for those who may want to make some, I use my fingers to smush the butter and flour mixture instead of the pastry blender. I find I have better results. Plus, it's sort of therapeutic. Remember, I'm learning to manage my anger.

A brief history of scones(and believe me, the history of a scone is brief):

Scones originated in Scotland in the early 1500's. They were originally made from oats and griddle-cooked. They became popular once Anna, the Duchess of Bedford started ordering them everyday with her afternoon tea. They are still a traditional accompaniment to "Afternoon Tea Time" (precisely 4:00 p.m.) in England. They are typically served with clotted cream as a topping. However, scones can be served for breakfast and they can be savory or sweet.

For recipes, check out this link:

http://www.kitchenproject.com/history/Scones.htm

.

Day 11: Sid's Sourdough Showdown

2010-03-24T12:30:00.000-07:00

I now have a dimensionally-correct pan!

It was a sunny Monday at mid-day. The Sid and I had a date with destiny. This would be Sid's first time. Mine too.

It started like this: Yeast, warm water and sourdough starter (Sid) in a bowl. I added the flour. I had to mix this dough by hand. No Kitchen Aid powerful mixer could be used. Just me, my wooden spoon (metal reacts with sourdough) 5 1/2 cups of flour and elbow grease. Sid and I made dough.

We made two loaves. The one on the right is all snug in my new pan (with the correct dimensions). The one on the left is resting in my old, dented pan (See Day 4 for details). I placed these two loaves in Bob so they would rise. Then, I had a little competition on Facebook asking people which loaf will co-operate, the one on the left or the right? It was anybody's game. And then, half through the rising time, I peeped into Bob and saw:

You can imagine what I thought/muttered/shouted. Although, I half way expected it. That's why I was taking bets. The "Left"...left us. And, I was left with the "Right" to continue rising and baking. It looked conservative and well...right.

However, the "Left" became more... wrong.

I had to think fast. What to do with the destruction of "Left". Ah hah! I'd roll 'em up and make little rolls. Forget brushing oil on them, I sprayed them with Canola Cooking Spray!

Meanwhile, "Right" was getting it's smell on in the oven and the aroma was permeating my house. It was difficult to concentrate. I was in love. The fragrance of Sid's "Right" absolutely un-did me. I waited close to Bob, not wanting to leave the room. I was anticipating the taste of the warm loaf. I was a bit nervous when thinking about it, would it be all that I was hoping for? Or, would it fall short of expectations?

I pulled the loaf out of the oven and allowed it to cool (not long though). I sliced into "Right" and ate the first slice. Mmmmmm.

And then, I remembered the "Left" and what all had transpired. Expansion. Big Bread that now has to support more of itself by creating more divisions. But, that's the way "Left" rolls. (Sorry for the pun). I now had to support 9 little rolls of bread and hope that they could all rise uniformly. I was in too deep to turn back now. Being that Bob was too hot for young, fledgling rolls, I had to settle for the little room down the hall. It wasn't quite warm enough, but it was all I had. And it was warmer than the rest of the house. Will this plan work?

It looks like we made the best of it. Nine little sourdough rolls, four hungry people. How do we divide this evenly? I guess I'll "sample" one and then do a re-count.

Random Sourdough Facts

2010-03-23T16:53:00.000-07:00

Random things I’ve learned and heard about sourdough. Truly, this is a random post.

When starting a sourdough, it takes 72 hours to incubate. Once the 3 days are up, you can store sourdough in the fridge indefinitely. Of course, you have to feed it, stir it, use it or share it within 14 days.
Sourdough was originally used because it’s a natural leavening agent. When yeast wasn’t as accessible or plentiful as it today, this is what people used. “It’s been around for centuries. Before the birth of Christ, ancient Egyptians reportedly captured wild yeast from the air and mixed it into their dough because it made their bread rise.” (Southern Living Cookbook 1987, pg 91) I wonder how they captured the yeast? Does yeast still float around in the air? I imagine ancient Egyptians walking like an Egyptian with their butterfly nets in the air. Those who weren’t working on the pyramids were making papyrus paper or catching wild yeast.
“As it ages, the flavor mellows, imparting progressively more sourdough flavor each time its used”, reads my cookbook. I agree. The older I get, the more mellow and snarky I become!
Sourdough should be stored in glass, stoneware, or plastic because metal can cause a chemical reaction with the starter.
You have to feed the starter or use it within 14 days. And you must stir it daily. It could be the closest thing to a pet for some people.
“Never cover the container too tightly, gas needs to escape and air needs to get in to react with the yeast.” Ahhh…isn’t that cute? Sounds like my boys when they have friends over.
Sourdough can make hootch (cheap, homemade liquor) . Hmmmm... more possibilities.
There’s a whole sub-culture of people who deal with sourdough as a way of life. Check out sourdough.com
It is said that when a starter is moved to a new location, it changes to match the local environment. Even though this starter started out in California, it would now have the same organisms as your homegrown baby starter.

Remember Snarky? I wrote about Snarky the 35 yr-old sourdough starter the other day (click here). Well, I have since found photos of Snarky throughout the years. I'll be posting them periodically throughout the days and weeks ahead.

This photo here is a baby picture of Snarky circa 1974.
Cute, huh?

Day 10: Doughnuts for Dinner!

2010-03-23T10:20:00.000-07:00

A Moment on the Lips, A Lifetime on the Hips

I have decided that while I'm on this self-appointed anger-management-therapy-of-making-bread that Fridays will be fried bread day. Get it? Fry-Day? Yeah, go ahead and groan.

So, usually, Friday is pizza night. However, we had a later lunch than usual so I declared doughnuts for dinner. What a hit! If you want your family to really love you, make doughnuts for dinner. It seems wrong to eat this for dinner, but really, it felt so right.

Then, there was the "morning after" thoughts, the "awwwww, what I have done?", the "my jeans don't fit!", and of course the guilt. But then to remember the delight of the doughnuts. The men's expressions were that of shock and awe. It was like Christmas with a 4 year-old. The guilt dispersed (and the fat re-distributed).

I found a recipe that didn't require an overnight resting period. And I think the cinnamon and nutmeg are perfect for the dough's flavor. Here are some pictures for you to enjoy as well as the recipe.

Glazed Doughnuts (Southern Living Cookbook 1987 pg 104)

* Italics are mine

1 pkg dry yeast

2 Tablespoons warm water (105-115 degrees)

3/4 cup warm milk (105-115 degrees)

1/4 cup sugar

3 Tablespoons shortening

1/2 teaspoon salt

1/2 teaspoon ground nutmeg + a little more. yum

1/8 teaspoon ground cinnamon I used a tad-bit more. yum

1 egg (fresh from a warm water soak)

2 1/2 cups bread flour

Vegetable Oil

Glaze - 2 cups powdered sugar and 1/4 c milk combined and stirred until smooth.

Dissolve yeast in warm water in a large mixing bowl; let stand 5 minutes. Add milk, next 6 ingredients, and 1 cup flour; beat at medium speed of an electric mixer until blended, about 2 minutes. Stir in remaining 1 1/2 cups flour. Cover and let rise in warm place (85 degrees), free from drafts, 1 hour or until doubled in bulk.

Punch dough down; turn dough out onto a well-floured surface, and knead several times. Roll dough to 1/2 -inch thickness, and cut with a 2 1/2-inch doughnut cutter. I used a round biscuit cutter with a small star cookie cutter for center .Place doughnuts on a lightly floured surface. I used floured cookie sheets. Cover and let rise in warm place, free from drafts, 30 minutes or until doubled in bulk. I didn't cover because of my bad experiences with covering dough.

Heat 2 to 3 inches of oil to 375 degrees; carefully remove dough and carefully drop in 4-5 doughnuts at a time. Cook about 1 minute on each side or until golden. Drain well. Dip each doughnut, while warm, in glaze, letting excess glaze drip off. Let cool on wire racks. "Cool", what's that? These are warm doughnuts, man. You can keep your "cool". Yield: about 1 1/2 dozen.

Snarky Sourdough

2010-03-22T10:51:00.000-07:00

My friend has been given a 35 year old sourdough starter. It’s 2010. That means it was “born” in 1974! It has, like, lived a lifetime in a fridge and has traveled to who-knows-where and has seen who-knows-what. If, every 14 days, you scoop a cup out of the starter, then this 35 year old starter has had 912.49 “babies”! Where are they now? Were some thrown away? Were they fostered and/or adopted? How many “grandbabies” did original starter have? Was there a shout out on the Today Show for it’s 35th birthday? Is that old for a starter? Are there older ones out there? Can you imagine how many jugs of milk and tubs of cottage cheese and yogurt this starter has seen in its 35 years? How many refrigerators has it called home? I wonder if sits in the cold fridge and looks forward to the daily stirring?

I've named this 35 year old sourdough Snarky.

Snarky – snide and sarcastic, usually out of irritation (Wiktionary.org)

Here is a recent photo of Snarky:

I started my own sourdough. I've named it Sid. It is only 16 days old. So far, it has only been fed once. It has made 2 loaves of "Country Crust Bread". That's all of Sid's story. Here's a photo of Sid in his home.

Day 9: Third Time is a Charm Bread

2010-03-22T08:54:00.000-07:00

Remember my Day 4: Life is #@*! Bread? . Anyway, today I tried for the 3rd time and.....

I DID IT!!!!!!

A new group of friends of mine get together each week and tomorrow, we'll be eating bacon, lettuce, tomato sandwiches for lunch. One gal asked if I'd bring some of my homemade bread. I agreed and the pressure was on though I didn't have any fear. I told her and myself that if I failed (which was likely), I'd just bring some store bought stuff. I was so relaxed and casual and un-apprehensive during the whole process. No big deal. It was like playing golf.

I DID IT!!!!!!

Post BLT note: this bread is too crumbly for sandwiches. It was delicious though.

Day 8: Irish Soda Bread

2010-03-19T11:28:00.000-07:00

Not impressed. It is like a big, honkin' biscuit. I should've made gravy or perhaps added a little sugar and raisins to make a Texas-sized scone. Here are the before and after photos of the 8" diameter loaf. Next St. Patrick's Day, I'm just going to make green mashed potatoes instead. Happy Spring Weekend to ya'll.

Day 7: French Triplets

2010-03-18T17:49:00.000-07:00

No knead French bread is the recipe I used. It made 3 loaves. This time, I had to mix the yeast with warm water and set it aside for 5 minutes and when I did, it went rabid on me! It was the frothiest yeast mixture I’ve ever seen. It even started increasing in volume during those 5 minutes. Happy was the yeast. This recipe called for a cup of boiling water and a cup of cold water. I had to use 6 ½ cups of flour! My Kitchen Aid handled it all rather well. Then, once I was finished mixing, I had to let the dough sit for 40 minutes and I had to gently stir it every 10 minutes of that 40 minutes. Talk about demanding attention! I played along. At the end of the 40 minutes, I had to divide the dough into 3 equal parts and roll each part out into 13x8 inch rectangles. I am not good at rolling out dough into rectangles. It looked more like an impressionist’s version of a rectangle. Once they were rolled out flat, I rolled them jellyroll fashion and put them each on their very own greased baking sheet. They each rolled out a little different and I could tell that each one of the loaves was going to have its own personality. They all three handled differently. Just like my children. I wasn’t sure what to name them at this point, because it was still so early in the process.

Bob (the 200degree oven with a hot pot of water)
held what I thought was going to be the prettiest loaf (must be the girl). The little room around the corner from the kitchen was all warmed up and ready for the other two loaves to start their rising. The recipe said I was supposed to “cover them” while they rise. Eeeks. I was hesitant about that as I haven’t had any good fortune covering dough. But, I went ahead and threw tea towels over them. I just wasn’t feeling good about this though. If you have been keeping up with my journey in bread-making, you too are probably feeling apprehensive about me covering the loaves with anything.

An hour goes by. I go into the little room to check on the “boys”. I gingerly lift the tea towels; they don’t stick to the loaves. The loaves are beautiful. One of the boys is stubby and fat while the other is long with good girth. Nice. I go to Bob to check on the “girl”. The tea towel sticks. Now, I don’t mean sticks like the time it did in day 4. I mean, STICKS. Like glue. S-T-I-C-K-S. Aaaaugh! Crap! My towel now has dough stuck to it like…like….well, like I scalped the loaf. My loaf, my pretty girl loaf…. *phfft* deflated and became a lumpy, gooey blob. I called it Jack-Jack. Right then and there, the name was stuck. This was going to be that kiddo. Okay, fine, we’ll deal with this. I am a mother of boys afterall and I have experience with strong willed children. Jack-Jack was no exception. I yanked the baking sheet out of Bob and trotted to the little warm room. I looked at the other two loaves and decided I better dress them for the oven. The recipe calls for cutting slits on the top of the loaves and brushing with a milk & egg mixture and perhaps topping with poppy seeds. Well, as you know, I haven’t had any good fortune with creating holes in my bread. This results in some sort of disaster. It is at this moment that I think about if I should go through with it or shrug this part off. I leave the little room. I open a drawer and pull out a knife and a knife sharpener. If the recipe says use a sharp knife, then, that’s what I’m going to do. I walk down the hall carrying my knife and milk & egg mixture with the brush. I decide that stubby boy would go first. I carefully make my cuts. Nothing tragic happens.

I brush the mixture over the top of the newly inflicted wounds and the loaf’s little body. I quickly trot him to the 400 degree oven. He makes it in. SAFE! Uhmmm… I had sesame seeds. Where are those sesame seeds? Found ‘em! I open the oven door and sprinkle some on Francois (the loaf’s new name). Francois did not want seeds. He bounced them right off of his chest like Superman bounces bullets off of his. Okay, fine. Whatever little man, just cook and be yummy for mommy.

Fifteen minutes later, Francois is fragrant. I go to check on him and he’s awfully brown. Quite the tan. I pull him out of the oven and place him on the wire rack to cool. I turn the oven down a little bit; I’d hate to have another one so dark. I go back to the little room for the next victim. Jack-Jack is UGLY. He’s expanding in width, but not rising tall. I decide Francine (the boy who is now a girl because Jack- Jack became something other than the girl I was hoping for). Francine, who’s long and beautiful, received 5 cuts. She took them well. I brushed the milk & egg mixture over her and sprinkled sesame seeds on her. She wore them like a girl wears accessories. They enhanced her beauty 100 fold! I trotted her to the oven. She becomes a lovely shade of gold in 15 minutes. Out she comes and onto the wire rack beside her stubby little brother Francois.

Back to the little room for Jack-Jack. I must say that the slits I cut into him actually became him. Sort of like tattoos on a biker. Or a tan on a surfer. Or red paint on toenails. Or…well, you get the picture. I brush him with the milk & egg mixture and he wallows in it. He loves the goop being smeared him. I do not sprinkle seeds on him. I trot him to the oven. What you do not know about Jack-Jack is that he made for himself a baking buddy. Remember his scalped dough that was stuck to my tea towel? Well, I took a knife and scraped the stuff off. I made a little dough ball out of it. It was the size of a small apple. I cut a cross on the top of its little head and brushed it with milk & egg and sprinkled seeds on it. The little booger and Jack-Jack baked for 15 minutes. Jack-Jack rested on the wire rack while I waited all of 2 minutes to eat his little buddy. Yummy.

Jack-Jack was eaten 30 minutes later with homemade chicken soup. Francois will be consumed with a spaghetti dinner tomorrow night. Francine will get wrapped and stored in the freezer for a later date with destiny.

Day 6: In a Rush Because That's the Way I Roll Bread (40 Loaves for 40 Days)

2010-03-17T16:33:00.000-07:00

Here's the Recipe for the bread I attempted to bake on days 3 and 4:

From the Southern Living Cookbook 1987 edition pg 89

Basic Yeast Dough (one of the Versatile doughs)

1 pkg dry yeast

1 Cup warm water (105 -115 degrees)

3 Tablespoons sugar

2 Tablespoons shortening

1 Egg

1/2 teaspoon salt

3 - 3 1/2 Cups all-purpose flour (I use the "Better for Bread" flour)

Dissolve yeast in warm water in a large mixing bowl; let stand 5 minutes. Add sugar, shortening, egg, salt, and half of flour; beat at low speed of an electric mixer until smooth. Gradually stir in enough remaining flour to make a soft dough.

Place dough in a well-greased bowl, turning to grease top. Cover and let rise in a warm place (85 degrees), free from drafts, 1 hour or until doubled in bulk, or cover and refrigerate for up to 5 days. (If refrigerated, let return to room temperature before proceeding.)

Punch dough down; turn out onto a lightly floured surface, and knead 4 or 5 times. Shape and bake as directed. NOTE: to shape the perfect yeast loaf: Roll the dough jellyroll fashion according to dimensions in recipe. Let it rise in the pan.

Basically, I've made this dough 2 times already and today I would be making rolls from the dough. I let it rise in a bowl and then, I pinched off 20 little pieces and rolled them between my hands to make little balls. I laid them on a greased cookie sheet, put the cookie sheet in the 200 degree and hot pot of water oven/sauna (I am now going to name that part Bob).

They had only been in Bob for 20 minutes and hadn't risen very tall (somewhere in the recesses of my memory I think I heard about the sides of the pan are important for rising bread. I may be wrong, but I will experiment later. Stay tuned.). I had a friend who was scheduled to pick me up for lunch and it was cutting close to that time. I decided I'd bake the little guys after only 20 minutes of rising in Bob. *Ding, Dong* My doorbell rang. My friend was a little early, but we had to be somewhere. I told my men to take the rolls out in 20 minutes. They did. Twenty little non-noteworthy rolls. Next time, I won't lounge around in my pj's and check Facebook and grade papers and make copies and eat breakfast and take a shower and let the dog out two times and twiddle my thumbs before I get those rolls started. Next time, I'll manage my time better. Here's a picture of the little rolls. There's only 4 left. We ate the other 16. These four were sliced in half, buttered and toasted and served as breakfast with our coffee the next morning.

Musings From the First Week

2010-03-16T17:47:00.000-07:00

I started this bread project because I needed a way to deal with some pent up anger and tension. I had prayed about this because I didn’t like the thought of 40 loaves and 40 days and me trying to keep up with and work at such a silly project. Read here for back-story. My husband, Sweetie Pie, suggested I blog about it. I had already considered this before he mentioned it. I just didn’t like hearing it come from someone else and to hear it out loud made me catch my breath, swallow hard and leave the room. So, here we are, seven days into it. If you are reading this and you actually care about my spiritual application, then continue reading, otherwise, you can go check your Facebook page and do anything else you are avoiding doing because you are reading this.

Dear Bread Diary,

I don’t feel quite so angry or depressed anymore. I have attended three social occasions in the past week. Nothing major like a ball or gala, but, it is noteworthy, considering the past 4 months of depression. I actually felt social and like I could get dressed (out of the pj’s) and put a real smile on and visit with friends. One group was a group of women whom I have only met most recently. Another group was a bunch of moms of wee folk (babies and the under 10 crowd). And then meeting with one more gaggle of gals that have homeschooling in common.

I like the feel of warm bread dough in my hands. I like the kneading process. Push down and out. Turn dough one quarter turn. Fold. Push down and out. … On and on for about 10-15 minutes. Flouring hands as needed. I like the smell of yeast. I’m happy when the yeast mixture is happy. I can tell it’s happy when the mixture is bubbly and expanding. . I like the therapeutic aspect of the routine. I have to think outside of myself to prep the little room with heat, to boil some water, to read and re-read the recipe, to warm the water or milk to just the right temperature for the yeast, to prepare a floured surface and have a little greased bowl ready for the dough. The process distracts me from myself. It brings a little joy into my heart as I work it all out. Then, the whole fear sets in once the bread has risen or is done baking. I want to get passed this fear thing. I suppose bread-making is in one aspect like playing golf. You have to be relaxed and focused. There’s no room for fear or hesitancy. You can’t hold your breath while swinging. These little things will ruin your game. So, perhaps, we can apply that to life. Relax and focus. Don’t fear. Don’t hesitate. Breathe. I’m still working on my golf game concerning those lessons. I’ll start applying those principles to making bread. Hopefully, I will begin to apply this to life once again. I feel emergent. Thank you, bread, for your help. I look forward to making 35 more loaves.

Sincerely,

Your New Friend m

Day 5: Fried Bread Friday

2010-03-15T20:40:00.000-07:00

We had our monthly small group over on Friday evening. I made French doughnuts. They are called "beignets" (ben-yays). They are light and puffy. They are typically served hot with a cup of chicory coffee or a cup of cafe Au Lait. Powdered sugar is the traditional topping. You can go anywhere in New Orleans and order these scrumptous fried and sugared concoctions. Mmmmmmmmm.

I cheated though. I used a boxed mix. But, it's the best boxed mix you can get. And you can get it at World Market. It's Cafe Du Monde. A renown little place in New Orleans. If you're in New Orleans, you absoulutely must go there! The box looks like this:

Forgive me? I promise to make it up another Friday when I make regular yeast-risen doughnuts and possibly sourdough doughnuts. I thought that would make you make that noise I just virtually heard.

The biegnets looked like this:

The powdered sugar melted into the hot dough. It's very important that you sprinkle generously with powdered sugar. And then, just for good measure, sprinkle some more! Using a sifter works fabulously.

If you don't want a boxed mix, then here's a recipe for them from "The Little New Orleans Cookbook" by Gwen McKee. (pg 19):

Beignets

1 Cup of whole milk

2 Tablespoons shortening

2 Tablespoons sugar

1 (1 oz) package dry yeast

3 cups plain flour

1 teaspoon salt

1 egg

Oil for deep frying

Powdered sugar

Heat milk till almost boiling, stirring so as not to scorch. Place shortening and sugar ina big bowl; pour scalded milk over and stir until smooth and melted. Cool to lukewarm, then add yeast; stir till dissolved.

Sift dry flour and salt into another bowl. Stir about half of this flour mixture into the milk mixture gradually, then add egg. Beat batter thoroughly, stirring in remaining flour a little at a time. Cover with a towel and set aside for about an hour till it doubles in bulk. Knead gently on floured board; roll to 1/4-inch thickness. Cut into 2 - inch squares or diamonds with a sharp knife (I use pizza cutter/roller thingie). Cover and let rise again 30-45 minutes.

Drop squares into hot oil (385 degrees), turning once when golden brown on bottom side. Drain on paper towels and dust with sifted powdered sugar. Serve warm. Makes about 2 dozen.

Day 4: Life is #@*! Bread (40 Loaves for 40 Days)

2010-03-14T16:27:00.000-07:00

Once again, I thought I could duplicate something so yummy. I really should've kneaded bread today. I woke up in a bad mood. Not sure why that happens. It takes a string of good things to happen to pull me out of it, otherwise, it's all down hill from there. Sometimes, if things don't go too terribly wrong and I can reach the "emotionally neutral" mark on the emote-o-meter. That mark is usually where I start from. I imagine the Price is Right Wheel and the happy mark is that big glittery green 100 mark and the @#* mark is that bright orange 0 directly under the big glittery 100. I don't know who or what does the spinning of my emote-o-meter wheel, but sometimes it isn't where I left it the day before. Let's blame my thyroid and hormones! Yeah! My thyroid made me do it. HA! HA!

Oops, I'm supposed to be talking about my Day 4 bread. I basically followed the recipe from Day 3 which was a beautiful loaf and it was consumed by my men as a bedtime snack. Day 4 was an up hill climb for me emotionally. It was raining outside, too. Since the only mistake from the day before was the egg incident, I had pretty good hopes that today would yield better results. I even remembered the measurements and ingredients by memory. But I double checked to be sure. (whew!) The mixing was uneventful, all went well. I even got the dough into the not-quite-the-right-dimension loaf pan and had it rising in the 200 degree/hot pot of water oven/sauna. I threw a tea towel over it for good measure. So far, a whole string of good events happening. My emote-o-meter reading was at 50 and I was going to take another spin to go for the green, glittery 100. I can hear the beep, beep, beep now and feel the anticipation of the little arrow landing on just the right number.

The tea towel became the problem. My bread rose really tall, like 4X the height of my loaf pan. I opened the oven door after an hour and went to remove the tea towel. There.Was. A. Sticky. Place. On the dough. I finagled the towel gently. *phfffff* a hole was created when the towel tore off a piece of dough from where the sticky place had been. 1/3 of the loaf deflated, then, the weight of the 4X -as- high -as- the- sides -of- the- pan caused the other side to slip down and it was cut off by the edge of the pan and I watched the dough *plop* right into the hot pot of water.

I muttered a few words under my breath (and maybe not so much under my breath. but just maybe. I, after all, have learned to bridle my foul tongue; source of evil that it is). I heard the big buzzer from my emote-o-meter wheel go off. I over spun. Anyway, I grabbed the loaf pan. I... with beady, narrowed eyes, and a puckered mouth with a looks-could-kill scowl, put the loaf pan down on the counter (nicely, with much control). I took out the dough, reformed it and placed it back into the loaf pan for yet another hour in the oven/sauna.

It rose beautifully. Again. Okay, I was back to a 50 on the emote-o-meter. I cranked up the temperature and waited patiently for 45 minutes today (to help compensate for the under-baked, holey bread from yesterday). I pulled out from the oven this beautiful loaf. The aroma of fresh bread is one of the most superb aromas of all ( up there with leather and new car. Oh, and cookies). I turned the loaf out onto the wire rack to cool and the lovely (read that with terseness) loaf wouldn't pop out of the pan. The rounded top was doing the muffin top thing and sticking to the side and edges. I took a knife to wedge the edges loose. The bread was so soft on the underside of the muffin top part, that the knife slipped into the bread. Then, I had to get the knife between the pan and sides of the bread (like you do with brownies). I was mutilating my loaf. It was sad. I turned the pan upside down. Nothing happened, just a few crumbs...I shook the pan... and THE TOP FELL OFF! I flip the damn pan back over and there's still bread in it. I wedge the knife around (it was easier now that the top was removed). I turned the pan over. NOTHING! HOW was I going to get the stupid bread out?!

I....uhmmmm *ahem* slammed the pan against the side of the counter. That should do it. When all else fails, resort to violence. Nothing happened. Well, something did happen, I dented my loaf pan.

I took the knife and hacked and scraped and tore and sliced the remaining bread to pieces until it begged me to just turn the pan over and let it fall out. It fell out. I threw the pan into the sink. I told the men there would not be anymore knives taken to the bread, we would just use our hands and rip whatever we wanted off. And that's what we did.

Day 3: I Throw an Egg at the Dough (40 Loaves for 40 Days)

2010-03-11T22:51:00.000-08:00

Found a new recipe, one that doesn't require much kneading. And it only uses 3 1/2 cups of flour instead of 6 1/2! And...once I make it, I can choose to let it rise someplace warm or shove the little dough ball into an airtight container and put it in the fridge for up to FIVE days! And...I thought that would be quite nice and useful. And...the recipe also calls for 1 egg. Egg makes bread yummy (it also makes sauces,salads and tuna yummy). The note with the recipe says I can shape the dough or put it in a loaf pan or make rolls out of it. So versiatile. That's why the recipe is named "Versatile Yeast Dough".

So, I begin with heating up the oven to the 200 degrees and put my pan of boiling water in there. We'll make it like a miniature sauna. I decided I would use my not-quite-the-right-dimension bread loaf pan. (I am supposedly to use a 9 1/2 x 4 1/2 x 3 1/2 loaf pan. Mine is like 2 inches less all way round. Well, all way rectangle). I grab one egg from the fridge and place it in a warm water bath (I've read that when baking, eggs should be room temperature. i.e. warm - not like my house which is...cold). My Kitchen Aid is happy to be working with less flour. I warm the water to somewhere between 105 and 115 degrees, because we wouldn't want to destroy the little yeast thingies. Did you know that yeast is a living organism? It is. I'll have to look up what the science classification is since we are studying genetics and Kingdom, Phyllum, etc. stuff. O.K., back to the bread. My mixer had mixed it so well. There was a beautiful dough ball in the bowl waiting to be put into it's sauna. I pick the dough up to place it into the well greased bowl and OH MY STARS! THE EGG WAS STILL IN IT'S RELAXING BATH! Grrrrr. I put the little ball back in the mixing bowl. I crack the egg and slop it on the dough. I take a spatula and start smashing it in. I turn on the mixer and the dough hook just takes the dough ball and starts sloshing the egg while swinging the dough. It wasn't a pretty sight. The egg was getting beaten and the dough was dripping with the beaten egg. I let this horrific beating continue until it seemed the egg was fully incorporated into the dough. It was hard to be sure, but I couldn't take watching this anymore.

I picked up the dough ball, apologized to it and felt remorseful about forgetting the egg earlier in the process. I placed the dough in the loaf pan so it could...loaf around in the sauna for an hour. It loafed allright! And I'm here to tell you that yeast likes to loaf. Yeast likes the sauna. My precious dough that was egged by me, it rose. It rose really tall. It was 2X taller than the 1 1/2" sides of the loaf pan. Well, as I metioned in the last two entries about having a warm little room in my house, this time, I didn't have the room ready at all. I thought I would try to bake the bread without removing it from it's little warm oven/sauna. I removed the pot of water, and cranked the oven up to 350 degrees. I came back and checked on the little cherub bread after 10 minutes and it was now 3X taller than the sides of the loaf pan. I thought it was going to reach all the way to the top of the oven and scorch it's shapely rounded top. It didn't. After 35 minutes in the oven I took the most beautiful loaf of bread out of the oven and turned it out onto the wire rack to cool. One problem to note though; because of my not-quite-the-right-dimension loaf pan, the interior part of the bread was probably under cooked because I was able to put finger holes in the side and bottom. However, there wasn't any slimy/doughy places either. Finger holes do not affect the taste of this bread. This is my new favorite recipe for dough. Granted, it's only been three days. But, if my bread loafs can turn out this pretty and perky and tasty...with no extensive kneading or too much flour...then, it's a keeper. Next time, the egg won't get as long of a bath and the dough won't get tortured.

Day 2: Pride Comes Before a Fall Bread (40 Loaves for 40 Days)

2010-03-10T12:41:00.000-08:00

So, if you read about my journey in the bread making "Day One" experience, then basically, Day Two is using the same recipe. I wanted to repeat the braided beauty from the previous day. After knowing where all the snafus were in the process, I was determined to do the whole process in less time with even more phenomenal results. Surely, one can learn from their mistakes and apply what they've learned given the task to do over again (?). HA! What pride cometh up into my souleth (souleth? well, it's literary license)

I was familiar with the list of ingredients, the amounts, the process involved and was ready to knead some dough. I was anxious to begin; to get on with it, to make-bake-eat! Mostly eat! Everything went smoothly. The sun was shining through my kitchen window, I had The Eagles playing on the Bose, the kids were outside playing (i.e. out of my hair). The hubby was at his stick fighting class. The domestic goddess was pleasantly blessing her family with....BREAD. There was even an Italian Style soup simmering on the stove. Pride. That beast was cleverly disguised in an "all-is-well" suit! OH! Wait! I forgot to warm up the little room, I know what happens to risen bread when it meets cold air (see Day One for clarification). I still had an hour until the bread needed that warm room. I rushed in and cranked the space heater up to 85 degrees. Really, an hour should be enough time to warm the little room. The moment came for me to take the braided beauty out from the warm oven and into that little room to be brushed (groomed) with egg white (purely for aesthetic reasons...vanity). I carefully pulled the little bundle of braided bread goodness out of the oven and transferred it to the room. I stepped into the room and I could tell is was nowhere near 85 degrees. Seventy degrees maybe, but not a warm, balmy 85! I looked down at the loaf, checking for signs of...of...of deflation. Nope. Whew! I carefully set the baking sheet down on top of the pan with hot water to keep the bread's little "bed" snuggly warm. I held my breath (not physically, the smell was absolutely wonderful). I brushed egg white on top of the bread ever so carefully. NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO! *phttt* My little braided bundle of happiness...ffffffffffffell. Just like that. It became a horrific looking yeast/flour blob, with glistening egg white pooled in the crevices from where the well-formed braid had been. I huffed out of the room and stomped down the hall with the stupid blob and put in the OVEN (note the bold-faced word and read that with the emotional umph for which it was intended).

Thirty minutes later, I pulled the dang thing out of the oven to let it cool. Six and a Half (6 1/2)...six and a half CUPS of flour when not all puffed up from yeast, causes a dense bread. It wasn't tough, but it was...dense. When my guys showed up back inside the kitchen and saw what the domestic goddess had created, they still heaped praise upon her. It fell on deaf ears. The goddess' (say that out loud) emotional day deteriorated as quickly as her bread fell. The next morning, she and her man ate toast. And just so you know, dense bread, when buttered and toasted, makes delicious toast to accompany morning coffee.

40 Loaves for 40 Days

2010-03-09T10:35:00.000-08:00

I've been to the Dark Side and camped there for about 4 months. At first, I thought it was my S.A.D. (Seasonal Affective Disorder). Then, there was a week of sunshine and nothing really changed for me emotionally. Nothing changed?! Oh my. I must've been worse off than I had originally thought. My sweet husband said he had never seen me so "bad off". So, in January, I started peeling back another layer of my emotional onion (BTW, onions always make me cry). By the time February rolled around, I was in the darkest place ever. I had remembered a phrase, "Depression is masked anger". Hmmm... my onion was rotting. So, through a series of events and questions that month, I had an epiphany. I found what I was angry about. I will not write about that right now.

I was telling a friend about this new revelation of mine and had at some point mentioned how my 10 year old bread machine had just went kaput on me. It really made me....mad....no....angry. Silly, I know. But at the time, I felt my anger was justified. So, she mentioned how her mother would make bread by hand and would put all her tension and anger into the kneading of bread. I laughed and made a quip about me making bread every day for 40 days. I'll have ripped biceps in time for Summer.

The idea stayed with me for a couple of weeks. I have decided to take this journey. I am now in anger management therapy. Bread making will be the assignment. I'm not sure I'll make a loaf every day, but I do plan on completing this self-assigned assignment before Summer. So, I pulled out my Southern Living Cookbook and looked up "Basic White Bread".

Day One: "Experimental Bread"

It took me 4 stinkin' hours to make this bread. I was so frustrated! My loaf pan was too small, so I had to make the braided bread version. And just so everyone knows, our house is at a cool 58 degrees. It's old and drafty and is heated by $3.00/Gal Oil and it takes 150 gallons/ month to keep it at a cozy (Not) 62 degrees. So, we just use some space heaters and bundle up. There, I just exposed another reason for my anger. Please, don't comment on that. Anyway, I placed the loaf in the pre-heated200 degree oven with a pot of really hot water and wished I could crawl in there with it. It took two and half hours for it to do it's rising and kneading and rising again cycle. And let me tell you, I kneaded that loaf for 12 minutes and my triceps were sore the next day. I put alot of "umph" into it. Now, the recipe calls for brushing egg white on the top of it and that requires taking it out of the warm cocoon of an oven. Gasp! Let me tell you what risen bread does when it makes a -142 degree temperature change. It FALLS! This was what I have learned pre-day One from some other disastrous cooking day (hence the bread machine began being used). But, my braided beauty...would not have such fate. I took it to a small room in the house where I had the space heater cranked up to 81 degrees for 5 hours, the door closed and people were banned from this room until the braided beauty was finally baking in the oven! I brushed egg white on the top. I kept a pan of hot water under the bread pan to help maintain the warmth. I put it back in the oven. So far, so good. It was beautiful. It baked, it browned, it was aromatic. I took a picture of it. We ate it. It was delicious. I wasn't sure I'd make another loaf until we finished the loaf the next morning (toasted with butter). Yeah. I could do it again.

2009-12-21T12:27:00.000-08:00

I'm looking forward to marking 2009 off the "To Do" list. We did it. It was a rough, challenging year and I'm glad it's about over. The image in my mind is of Joseph (the Old Testament character), who was sold by his brothers, had a few moments of glory serving Potipher, then, was scandalized and thrown into prison. For years. I'm sure he marked the passing of days/weeks/months with tick marks on some stone wall. It felt good to do that I'm sure. A little sigh of relief mixed with a little angst. Relief that he made it through one more day/week/month with that little, teeny, tiny, dim spark of hope banked in the ashes of despair. And the deep breath of angst with the knowledge of how nothing new or eventful has happened and the surmising that it will probably go on like this. Forever. And how that angst would like to snuff out the spark. Living in the tension of those two feelings, everyday for what I believe was 17 years. Can you think back over the last 17 years of your life? That's a whole lot of time and events and people and lessons and hopes and discouragements and gloriies and sufferings and well...LIFE!

I am not saying my life is anything like Joseph's, but I can understand (however small that understanding is) some of his feelings. And even though I haven't lived in that tension on a daily basis for 17 years (Thank you, Jesus), I have lived in that tension almost daily for 2009. I'm not out of this dark place yet. I'm not sure 2010 will be any better, or any worse. I may just be marking off another year next year at this time. Who knows?

God knows. God knew how long Joseph was going to stay in that place. And then...well...and then....AND THEN!!!

I'm not looking for that sort of ending...being the #2 who is treated like a #1. What I am looking for is seeing God fulfill all He has planned for me. Joseph had a dream from God about his future. And even though sitting in a dark dungeon of a prison wasn't included in that dream, it definitely made Joseph who God needed him to be before God could fulfill that destiny. So, I guess I'll try to encourage myself and perhaps you if you're still in a dark place waiting for fulfillment. Embrace this time. Embrace this suffering. Embrace this tension. Go ahead and give up the dreams. Come to the end of yourself. If you lose the battle one day, it's ok. Even if it's a string of days that you feel you've lost. It's ok. Because see, there is this promise in the Bible that says "all things work together for the good for those who love God and who are called according to His purpose". We all have a call of purpose on our lives. And He causes ALL THINGS to work together for the good of us. Not just the good, ooey-gooey, all is great things, but also the life-is-crap things. Even our emotions would be included in that "ALL things". (I'm thankful for that, because, let me tell you, I think I'm the queen of emotion. I can vacillate between two opposing emotions so fast, it makes my head spin...my poor guys...)

Take joy in knowing that we are not forgotten by Him, even when we might feel that way. Whatever you or I may be going through right now, it too is a part of that. "That" being a purpose of His. He knows when we are done with a particular season of life and he brings new things to us and for us ultimately for Him. We just have to trust that He knows what He is doing and we don't have to know and we need to be ok with it. *SIGH. BIG SIGH*

Happy New Year.

I'm Waiting Here

2009-08-05T09:22:00.000-07:00

That's right. I'm waiting.

People constantly ask me, "What are you going to do now?". This question is usually in response to them finding out James' employment status, which has a direct correlation to our circumstances/situation. Currently, James is once again, unemployed. That constant question is once again being asked. So what's my answer? I'm waiting. We are waiting.

It is very easy and sometimes gratifying to scramble around and work your mind into a lather trying to figure out the "what now". We are guilty of responding that way. Perhaps respond is too delicate a word to use. What I really mean is: react. We (me) typically react to things beyond our control. We (me) stay on the defensive and try our own strategies. We (me) try to figure it out and make our moves based on the circumstances. It's all I got to work with, right? Life keeps coming at me like the Steeler's Linebackers. Just a fast wall of large, mean, attack-hungry muscle with a mission to mow me over.

I currently feel beaten down. Discouraged. I want to give up. I'm a flattened pancake on the playing field. Send in the medics. Put me on a gurney. I'm an injured player. I've played this rough game for the last 6 years. It's been a close game; a riveting game. I'm done. I'm not strategizing. I'm not going to play with a limp. I'm going to lay here and wait.

The Bible talks about waiting on the Lord. "He who waits upon the Lord will renew their strength, they will walk and not grow weary." "He who waits on the Lord will rise up on wings of Eagles". "Be still and know that I am God". "I will make a way for you, I will make streams in the desert places". The God I believe in, that I am supposed to trust says, "I know the plans that I have for you, plans to prosper you and give you hope, not to harm you". This wounded warrior is going to wait on God. My plans have brought me enough harm. God has allowed it, but only to get me into His arms and to reveal His loving ways. Like a hurting child (and I am a child of God, as we all are, whether we know it or not), I will yell for my Daddy. God, my Daddy, promises to answer and come to all who call out for Him. Well, I'm laying here, in the rubble of this train-wreck life and I'm screaming at the top of my lungs because I REALLY HURT! I don't want to figure out anything. I want my Daddy! I want healing. And I'm not moving anywhere until He says.

I'm waiting. That's what I'm going to do now.

Going Home

2009-06-20T11:33:00.000-07:00

Home is Texas.

James' unemployment has been 7 months long and we are at the end of our lease house agreement. No jobs have come available up here. No jobs in TX have come available. We are still moving to Texas, regardless.

Please pray God would supply a job in Austin for James and we could put roots down there. Austin is the locale where we have always wanted to live (in TX). We've had our time in the Pac NW. It's been great! We have grown, have learned things, have thoroughly enjoyed the scenery and our friends up here. The beauty of this part of the country is astounding to us. We will miss so many things about Oregon. Our hearts are sad to leave Oregon, but happy to return to Texas. We look forward to being accessible to friends and family. Which is another reason we would like to live in Austin; it's between our clans. It's a 2 1/2 -3 hour trip to see our peeps in any direction. It would also afford us outdoor adventures, as we have grown accustomed to up here. Austin is full of creative people and offers some of the best music, food and scenery in TX.

We hope God will make a way for us to settle there. AND I MEAN SETTLE! This will be my 29th move. I want to live somewhere for longer than 18 months. I want to establish roots in a community and serve that community. We pray God would allow that community to be somewhere in the Austin area. If He gives us the desires of our heart , then he gave us that desire to live there...sooooooo.... ???

From our perspective right now, it looks like we will be moving at the beginning part of August. We need Jeep repair (or a new Jeep). We need some financial provision as well. We mostly need a whole lot of prayer. The thoughts of "should we hold out a little longer?", or "is now when we move back?" or "what if we miss God on this?" are all thoughts we struggle with. 1) We have realized last year that we would eventually move back to Texas; we just thought it would be a few more years. 2) James has "fished" in the job pool for 7 months with no catches and only 1 nibble (but it swam away). 3) Our house lease is up at the end of July and Jame's unemployment is up as well. He will have to file for an extension and hopefully they will approve it for another 13 weeks 4) We are debt free and could live out of our Jeep if we needed to.

Our uncertainty about whether or not James could find unemployment in Texas (ya'll remember the problems we had last time we lived there) nags at us. We will be living with my grandmother in Mineral Wells until James is gainfully employed. That can and most likely will take a toll on ALL OF US in that equation. Two young teenage boys, an uemployed man, a mom and a 90 year old woman living together sounds like fun times....for a limited time. :) We have no idea how long that will last. So much uncertainty. But staying up here with me supplementing unemployment (that will eventually run out) isn't so hot. The cost of living is significantly greater here and in TX, our money will go much further. Anyway, our brains have been worked into a lather. We have surrendered our will to God. "Man plans his ways, but God directs his path". Right now, we are planning on moving back to Texas (and hopefully settling in Austin), so God, we trust you will direct the path (and provide provision).

Married to God

2009-02-09T19:58:00.000-08:00

Well, I'm not really married to God. But, after 25 years of being in relationship with God, one could draw some similarities to a marriage relationship. I am a bit happy to report that I am quite comfortable with God and the relationship we have. Even when I'm a stinker, He still loves me. I try not to act like a spoiled brat, most of the time, but every once in awhile, the inner brat flares up and is revealed. Anyway, that seems to be what happened most recently (the last 2 1/2 months). If you have read the previous blog entry, you will know that James was laid off during the Christmas holidays, we have to move and I now have a full time job.

For some reason, I saw all these things as impositions. Yes, in some way, they are. But in God's methodology of doing things, they're blessings (in disguise, as we say). Sometimes it takes a while to see it as God sees it. Perspective is everything and sometimes it takes time to get good perspective. It has taken me 2 1/2 months to gain God's perspective. I don't know the end purpose of all of these events. I don't know even know how long all of this will last. But instead of asking the typical "when", "why", "how long" or "what", I was challenged to ask "who". Who is God during these times? He wants to reveal His character. Personally, at the time, I didn't give a crap anymore. I've know God for 25 years. He is faithful. He is loving. He is just. He has no plans to hurt us. Etc. etc. blah, blah, blah. I'm sure you've heard (and know) it all too. I was just tired of the imposition. The lack of comfort. The physical and emotional turmoil of it all. And on top of all of that, I felt like God was jacking with my kids, too. Now that they're older and have their own little lives and perceptions. Let's just say I was pissed off. With God. And I let Him know.

Now, the beautiful thing here is that I let Him know. Some people aren't too sure about God and the relationship they have with Him. I know God. I know how stable my relationship is with Him. I could be angry with Him, but I wasn't going anywhere. No divorce here. No separation. I guess it was like when James and I have had that "big one" back in '99. It's not worth leaving over (after all, the Bible says divorce is usually caused by selfishness). I was selfish. I wanted it my way. James wanted it his way. Well, when it works this way with God, He usually wins. I know that. Everyone knows that. The problem was my selfishness and my lack of perspective. So, I continued with the "silent treatment" (immature, I know). Then with smart-ass remarks concerning Scripture verses. I'm telling you, I was horrid. And that was just warming up.

And this is who God was while I was a pain in the ass: Loving, forgiving, gently nudging me, acts of kindness, encouraging. Yeah, He would "make nice" with me. Little gifts here and there. They may seem insignificant to some, but during those rough days, I knew it was God's way of saying, "C'mon baby, I love you, won't you just let it go and trust me? I'm thinking of you and I want us to be back on loving terms again." There were several trinkets. There were gifts of love. There were "inside jokes" and "special verses". There were pleasant surprises.He allowed me to be that way and the whole time He had His arm around me and loved me through it.

Am I still pissed? No. Am I still impositioned? Yes. Is my comfort level challenged? Yes. Do I know "when", "why", "how"? No. Do I trust God's good character? Yes. After 25 years of living with Him and knowing Him and sharing my life with Him, I'm happy to report that I still love Him and am still learning new things about who He is. And He loves me, too.

Happy Valentine's Day.

News Flash

2009-02-07T15:00:00.000-08:00

O.K.

So here I write after 2 1/2 months. I am going to attempt to update everyone on our life. Right here. Right now. So, go get your coffee or your wine, your glasses, set your ipod to some melancholy music and read on.

The week before Thanksgiving, we found out, through certified mail from a lawyer's office, that this rental house is in foreclosure status. It is set to be auctioned in April. We contacted our leasing company to verify this. To this date, the leasing company still can't verify this information. Apparently, the owner of this house isn't being honest with them. Fortunately, we have had a couple of months to plan our "what next". Our lease terminates at the end of this month. From Thanksgiving through the middle of December, we started to look at houses to buy. We are ready to "settle down". We found a charming 1912 Craftsman house in downtown Hillsboro. This is the house we have our hearts set on. Period.

The week before Christmas, James was laid off from his job along with 6 other people. No severance pay (he hadn't been there a full year...only 4 weeks to go). He was able to apply for unemployment. No, it is not 70% of whatever you made. Myth busted. He has been actively looking for a job since then. No luck. So, going into January with the prospect of moving and the fact of being jobless left us wondering about so many different things and options. You can imagine.

The week of my birthday, James and I had talked about perhaps me finding a part time job. I was dreading the whole idea of retail work. And what office would hire a woman who had been out of the workplace for 14 years?! The day after this conversation, a friend of mine contacted me and informed me that the compounding pharmacy where she works was looking to fill a full/part time pharmacy technician position. Would I be interested? Well, I did go to nursing school for awhile and I do like health sciences. But I would have to be licensed to be a pharm tech. She said, I could get a temporary license and take a test within the year to become "certified". This is my best form of learning: hands-on. So, I went to apply and yes, I got the job. It's full time, not part time. It pays more than minimum wage (which in Oregon is more than the national requirement). James is now the stay-home-homeschooling dad. He is still looking for employment (here in the Portland area). We are each adjusting to new roles. Let me just say that we have gained a new appreciation for what the other has done for the last 14 years.

We are now about to move to another rental house. The individual is flexible in the leasing terms. We didn't have to sign a one year's lease. We are able to go 6 months and then month to month. Risky. Yes. But 2 bedroom apartment living with two, loud, tween-age, Texan sons wasn't sounding like a great option either. Plus, we would of had to pack everything into boxes and pay storage (which is expensive up here). We figured the amount of rent, storage and the emotional wear and tear of living in the apartment was more than we wanted to pay. The rental house in some sense, seems more reasonable. Especially given we don't know how long we will be in this situation. At least, the boys will have their space, and we'll have ours and we'll still be able to have friends over (which is a core value of our family).

We have had a relatively turbulent couple of months with so much adjustments. I think this has been the hardest thing to live through so far. Some of y'all know our past rides. Those were just preparation. This ride isn't over. I don't know how the economy is going to recover, if ever. There are still so many variables. I have learned that so much can change in a blink of an eye. And things are still changing. But! God's love and faithfulness is constant.

My next blog entry will be about how God and I weathered out the last 2 1/2 months. It wasn't pretty (on my part, anyway).

2008-11-18T10:53:00.000-08:00

Sometimes I live my life destination oriented; attempting to accomplish something physically or spiritually on the ever-on-going "To Do" list. But that isn't how I truly believe I ought to live life. Life is really more about a journey. The Bible tells us we are just sojourners, passing through, aliens to this world, awaiting our future home with God. We are supposed to live here with God, right now, as if we were on some backpacking adventure.

This picture to the left reminds me of that. If I were destination focused, I would choose the direction and do whatever necessary to get there (i.e: turn left, go straight just beyond the bend and STOP). I would also be more focused on getting there, that I would probably miss something along the way. To have, or to live, an eternity with God means I can slow down. The journey is something to be enjoyed. Eternity with God began for me 24 years ago when I came to know Jesus. My relationship with Him has been a journey. There have been plenty of forks, bends, beasts, flowers, vistas, valleys, climbs, rocks, communities, refreshments, scenic overlooks, not-so-scenic overlooks, thorns and briers. I have conversed with the Lord for 24 years along this path and I don't expect that conversation to end once this world is over. I'm just 24 years into my eternity with God.

Another interesting thing I have noticed in my journey is how sometimes one path actually meets back up with a path I may have passed along the way. Sometimes, I walk that path and end up back where I once was. Then I trod along a familiar path and sometimes notice new things. Maybe it's a different season, maybe I learned something new about the habitat and therefore see things in a new way or maybe I end up on the same path, but going to the opposite direction. Have you ever done that? Have you ever walked a path and then turn around and walk back the way from which you came? It's sort of a different view. Same path, different perspective. I rather like that.

I have also noticed that no matter how familiar I am with the path, the journey along the path is ALWAYS different! When I lived in the Woodlands, TX, we had trails that connected housing neighborhoods to each other as well as to schools and shopping areas and parks. There was a 3 mile loop near our neighborhood. I used to walk this trail or ride my bike along this trail. Needless to say, I was extremely familiar with it. I knew where the bridges were, the lakes were, the churches, the grocery store, the schools were. I walk that loop in about 35-40 minutes. But, every time was different. Sometimes I had company. Sometimes the weather was warmer or colder. Sometimes the foliage was different or there was a different season or light. All the variables changed but the trail remained a constant.

God knows the path I am walking. He goes with me. There is a destiny that He has in store for me. In the New Testament, Paul talks about laying hold of that for which Christ had laid hold of me. What is "that"? Must be my destiny in Jesus. So, I trust in Him, who is constant. And even though the variables in my journey are constantly changing and even sometimes the scenery changes, I trust God. He says He knows the plans He has for me , plans to prosper and not harm me, plans for a future (in the book of Isaiah). He gave David a beautiful psalm about being a sheep in the care of the Shepherd (Ps. 23). He also says he has new things in store for me that he reveals to me before they happen (also in Isaiah). As with everything God says, it always pivots on a relationship with Him. We weren't meant to go the journey alone. God always intended to be with us and even when mankind messed it up in the Garden, God made a plan to get us back into relationship with Him.

God is my trail guide. He's my friend. He's my good Daddy. He is my Saviour, my Redeemer. He's wild and He's good. His very creation speaks of that. I am happy to continue my eternal journey with God. So, I'll slow down and breathe, look around, be still, and listen. The destination part will happen because I'm on the pathway that leads there. The relationship and what I see on the journey is up to me.

Sucked Into Suburbia

2008-11-04T09:11:00.000-08:00

My most recent musings are spurred by a question we ask at Life Group: How has suburbia sucked you in this week? Or, as I sometimes need to ask myself, "How has suburbia kicked my butt this week?".

I am speaking spiritually. We all know how we get sucked in physically. But, spiritually? Yes, it happens. Is it a bad thing? Well....let's think and talk about that.

Question 1) Is your worldview based on suburban mores or a biblical foundation?
BEFORE YOU ANSWER!!!... is your biblical foundation founded on suburban principles?

Question 2) Who is Jesus to you? BEFORE YOU ANSWER!!... I want to share a thought. Have you seen the modernist picture of Obama? The one with his mugshot in blue and orange and underneath, it says, "HOPE"? What if you put Jesus' face in that place? Shirt and tie and the whole shebang. Do you like that picture now? Did I just modernize/suburbanize Jesus?

Question 3) Do you ever wonder if you truly know Jesus or if you just know so much about him and his life that you think you know Jesus? BEFORE YOU ANSWER!!... There is so much sitting and listening in our suburban American churches that perhaps we have gotten "fat" in our spirituality ( perhaps a parallel to our physical life; mine at least). We hear what Paul says about us working out our salvation. What the ____ does that mean? I thought it wasn't about works?! Paul also talks about faith without works is dead religion. Hmmm.... And then there is all that stuff about Jesus and the cross and the work of the cross thrown in there. Which part justifies the other? What should come first? Why do we spend our time thinking about these ideas? Does it not just add more "fatness" to our life?

Now you see how suburbia kicks my butt in my spiritual life. I get so caught up in questions and doctrine and theology and asking what do I really believe and blah blah blah....

So, I guessed you got sucked in with me. It's so easy isn't it? The best thing to do now is to confess to God, and ask him about these questions. We should be still and know that He is God and listen for His answer, after all, His Word promises that he who seeks shall find. I want to know God and know Jesus; not just about them. And the best way to learn is BE in His presence.

Thin Places

2008-10-21T15:57:00.000-07:00

I know a few years ago, during a small group setting, I talked about thin places. I had experienced a thin place at Ft. Worden beach in Port Townsend, Wa. back in 2005. It was real and life changing. I count it as a spiritual marker; a touchstone, in my walk with the Lord.

Here is what Marcus Borg in The Heart of Christianity says about thin places:

"Thin places (a metaphor found in Celtic Christianity) has its home in a particular way of thinking about God. Deeply rooted in the Bible and Christian tradition, this way of thinking sees God, 'the More', as the encompassing Spirit in which everything is. God is not somewhere else, but right here. In words attributed to Paul in the book of Acts, God is the 'One in whom we live, and move and have our being.' Note how the words work: we are in God, we live in God, we move and have our being in God. God is a non-material layer of reality all around us, right here as well as more than right here. This way of thinking thus affirms that there are minimally two layers of dimensions of reality, the visible world of our ordinary experience and God, the Sacred, Spirit.
But occasionally we do experience God shining through everything. Thin places are where these two levels of reality meet or intersect. They are places where the boundary between the two levels becomes very soft, porous, permeable. Thin places are where the veil momentarily lifts and we behold God, experience the One in whom we live, all around us and within us.
A thin place is anywhere our hearts are opened. To use sacramental language, a thin place is a sacrament of the sacred, a mediator of the sacred, a means whereby the sacred becomes present to us. A thin place is a means of grace.
What I wish to emphasize is how this notion helps us understand traditional Christian practices, both corporate and individual. My claim is that their central purpose is to become a thin place where our hearts are opened."

I have experienced that place where Heaven and Earth meet. I have experienced it in both a corporate setting and an individual setting. It truly is a means of grace. To see God shining through; to catch another glimmer of this multi-faceted God, is truly God gracing us. It amazes me how little I have to do with it. It isn't anything I can manipulate or control. If I just keep my heart right, He will surprise me with His holy presence.

Have you ever experienced a thin place?

poem: "Fire" by: Judy Brown

2008-10-20T16:17:00.000-07:00

What makes a fire burn
is space between the logs,
a breathing space.
Too much of a good thing,
too many logs
packed in too tight
can douse the flames
almost as surley
as a pail of water.

So building fires
requires attention
to the spaces in between,
as much as to the wood.

When we are able to build
open spaces
in the same way
we have learned
to pile on logs,
then we come to see how
it is fuel, and the absence of fuel
together, that make fire possible.

We only need to lay a log
lightly from time to time.
A fire
grows
simply because the space is there,
with openings
in which the flame
that knows just how it wants to burn
can find its way.

This was a poem we read at our spiritual formation retreat.
How does this poem relate to your spiritual walk? What words or phrases speak to you?

Thankfulness in Crisis

2008-10-14T11:47:00.000-07:00

Jesus.

I'm glad I know Him.

I read this article today about people who are killing themselves over this financial crisis. Some are jobless, have taken a big hit in the stock market, and are facing foreclosure of their home. And they killed themselves because of this. Have any of you read some of these stories?

I find the stories disturbing. It is sad. People who trust in this broken world's system. It's all they have (or had). I cannot imagine living without knowing where my trust lies. I trust in Jesus. I trust His words. I am thankful (the Bible tells me to be thankful in all things, for this is the will of God for me). I am thankful for my husband; he's my soul mate and best friend. I am thankful for my two children; they are healthy and bring such profound joy to my life. I am thankful for family; that there is such variety in personalities in one family is sometimes just plain astounding. I am thankful for friends; I get to choose my friends and I have quite a variety of them. I love having relationships. I think that is the key to a happy, successful life. Be careful how to define successful. In the end, most of the things in this world will burn as hay and stubble. There isn't anything that one can take with them when they die. Well, actually, one can take some things. They aren't tangible though. Relationships are the gold that Jesus talked about; the stuff that doesn't burn away or the moths eat. Relationships are based on love. And, well...love never fails.

My marriage survived joblessness, no savings, months behind on mortgage, deep credit debt and emotional turmoil. My trust in Jesus has never wavered. If we lose it "all", what I have I really lost? Do I still have family and friends? Do I trust God's word that He loves me so much, that He will provide? It may not always look like the provision I am accustomed to or even think I am entitled to (entitled.... there's another fault in thinking), but He does provide. I can testify to that.

I am in no way meaning to diminish the heartache of what we term "crisis". I do know, that I am stronger than I was two years ago because of the "crap". I am also wiser and my trust in the Lord is deeper. I am thankful I had a chance to toughen up and press harder into Jesus. My relationships are stronger, too. And because life tends to be cyclical, we are now gainfully employed, re-building savings, renting, and are about to be debt free. We have experienced some emotional healing (our marriage is stronger and healthier than ever before) and we haven't lost a single friend through any of it. In fact, our friendships became richer and deeper.

I love knowing Jesus and knowing that He still works miracles.

cracking the code

2008-09-17T15:25:00.000-07:00

Our friend and former Pastor, Les Herron, once talked about how all believers in Christ are missionaries. We are missionaries cleverly disguised as ___________ (nurse, teacher, stay home mom, soldier, etc.). Where we live and the people we are surrounded by are considered our mission field. We are to here to learn the culture and show God's love to the people. It isn't necessarily about fundraising, trip planning, skit performing heading-out-to-the-mission-field. It's really more about living your daily life, missionally.

My problem, or so I think, is that I live in suburbia. Suburbanites are a tough nut to crack. There's an unwritten, assumed code. Most people are comfortable with their lives. There really is so much comfort here in suburbia. There is an attitude of independence here also. We would all agree that we got here (in suburbia) by pulling up our bootstraps and working for it.

Suburbia looks so nice and clean and we can hide away in our nice houses and polished cars and busy ourselves with shopping, sports, entertainment and even work. We got here by ourselves (so we think), so we can take care of anything by ourselves. We know where to go and how to get there if we need something.If we get sick, we head to the Dr. If we're out of money, we ask for a raise or take a second job. If there isn't enough money for something right now, we can charge it on our credit card. Tired? Take a vacation. Bored? Go shopping, go to the movies, go hiking or whatever.

So, with all of this in mind, how do we "break in" to people's lives and hearts. How do we live with a missional purpose? How do we stand out as a peculiar people, as the Bible calls us to do? What does following Jesus and His ways look like in modern day suburbia? How can I not get sucked in to this suburban life; being "in" the world but not "of " the world?

I would think a good starting point is allowing ourselves to be vulnerable. I know, we don't have to be vulnerable. The beauty is, we get to choose to. What I mean by being vulnerable is allowing others to see who I truly am. To have a window view into my life. No, I don't have it all together. Yes, I'm still working through pain. I'm working through emotional issues regarding relationships. I'm nowhere near the financial goals I have set. Things keep breaking, including hearts and lives of people I know. These people I know...live in suburbia.

I would think, that wherever you are cleverly disguised as a missionary, there are people there who need a friend. A friend willing to love them enough to be vulnerable, so that they may feel safe and quite possibly loved and accepted. Because, you know what? Chances are they want to be found out and loved for who they really are. Are you willing to scale some walls and go in after some people? Jesus is. He's looking for volunteers to go with Him.

September Mornings

2008-09-03T12:20:00.000-07:00

45 degrees is the low at night. We still sleep with the windows open. We freeze our patooties off. We like it. I'm digging out my flannels. The air in the morning smells of burning fireplaces or woodstoves from surrounding homes. That, mixed with the smell of pine and cedar trees. Ahhhh...

I have spent 37 years in Texas and this is typically a hot month (literally) for hurricanes. So the air gets really still, really humid and really hot and sticky. Sometimes, September is worse than July and August combined. So, my body is once again adjusting to the climate up here. I know I write alot about the weather and acclimating to the environment; but it really is one of the more significant physical changes with living somewhere that is in a different region all together.

I am missing my friends and family back in Texas. Really. I am having a difficult time this week. We've made friends up here, but there is just something terrific about having friends who know where you've been and see your faults and still love you. The getting-to-know-you part is over and you and they are fitted nicely together like pieces sewn into a quilt. It's comfortable. It's easy. It's cozy. You feel and know you are equally yoked and can therefore share each other's burdens with joy and understanding. I miss that. I miss camaraderie. I miss spontaneous get-togethers. I miss having tea or dinner with the girls. I miss girl road trips to small towns. I miss double dating with other couples. I miss my favorite restaurants (Ricos, Los Cucos, Pappadeaux). I shouldn't dwell on this. It makes it worse. If you are reading this, please pray for us.

The boys are still wanting to make a neighborhood friend. They, too are missing friends we left back in Texas. We ALL had such deep and meaningful friendships in Houston. *sigh*

Enough of this belly-aching'! I shall go occupy myself with a good book. :)

2008-08-28T19:12:00.000-07:00

I was reminded today of something that happened to James and I about 2 years ago. We were on our way to the church facility one Sunday morning (I think we were in charge of something. What I remember is that it was really important that we be there on time, if not early). As we were driving, we passed a stranded car along side the road with a young couple looking distraught, standing beside the vehicle. He had tattoos and was smoking a cigarette. Their car was stuck in mud. We were in our Jeep with 4 wheel drive and a hitch. We could have helped. But, we were pushing it time wise to get the meeting. I cried. It was a sad circumstance. We were so busy going to church; we didn’t have time to be the church. Yikes! The popular acronym among Christians: WWJD (What Would Jesus Do?) came to mind. I know what the Jesus I know would’ve done. He would have pulled the Jeep over and He and his disciples would get out, hook up the car, pull it out of the mud, say something profound and teach into the situation. That isn’t what James and Michelle did. No. We passed them, I cried, I pushed the responsibility onto Jesus to send someone with more time to help them. We were in a time crunch and besides, we didn’t have a chain. We would’ve been of no use. Interesting how we justify our actions. But I prayed for them!? (Sigh)
I am reminded also of a parable about the lost sheep. About leaving the 99 to go after the 1 lost one and how there is so much rejoicing in heaven over 1 sinner who repents than over ninety-nine just persons who need no repentance. One could get busy tending sheep. I am reminded of another parable about the Good Samaritan. Notice the ones who passed by the certain poor soul: “a certain priest” and “a Levite”. Ouch! Could that be us? It took a Samaritan to show love and compassion to the poor soul in the parable. Samaritans were the least of all humankind back in that day (Perhaps they smoked cigarettes and had tattoos. They obviously didn’t look like righteous Jews) but, these Samaritans are ones Jesus used to teach us a lesson about loving our neighbors. He modeled love, He spoke of love, and He was all about love. In fact, the Bible says, “God is love”.
The lesson for me: Don’t forget to love my neighbor, even when I find myself in a time crunch. Being a follower of Jesus is more than just trying to make it to the church on time. It is more about being the timely church to a lost and hurting world.

WHERE DID THE SUMMER GO?

2008-08-25T14:28:00.000-07:00

Hello?

Hello? Is summer over there? Here, it's 67 degrees and partly cloudy on August the 25th. I think I lost summer. I'm not too terribly busy anymore with guests and I'm wanting a chance for some summertime activity. I only went swimming twice (well, I didn't swim, the water was too cold). I haven't had any mixed drinks while lounging on my patio. I haven't read any magazines ( I bought some with good intentions). I've only worn sleeveless shirts for maybe 2 weeks total? My "what-little-tan-I-had" is now fading. It's sad. I knew not to expect a long summer season up here in Oregon. I was told 7 weeks. I just didn't want to believe it. Summer must have tried to tell me it was leaving after that 105 degree weekend, but I thought, it was telling me to come along and play. I cleared my week so as not to be busy. I know that once September gets here, it's time to crack down with school and fall schedules. So, I was getting my summer toys together and *PUFF*......summer left.

People tell me that sometimes, here in Oregon, we'll get an Indian Summer during September. Well, I'm going to take my mixed drink, sleeveless shirt and fading tan self outside and have a pow-wow and perhaps a dance around the fire tonight (they say it should be 48 degrees tonight) for a call out to Summer to come back, or at least send it's Indian cousin.

2008-08-12T13:59:00.000-07:00

O.K., I read the Twilight series. My family survived my addiction. I survived as well. My favorite two books of the series are Twilight and Breaking Dawn. Period.

Other things I survived this summer: 80/85 degree days (a cinch ), my Mother-in-Law visiting (nice), our friends, the Reid's visiting (which was totally fun for me), my parents visiting (which was delightful and comforting), no swimming pool filled days (sad) , camping in Eastern Oregon (hot), a road trip to Bend with my parents (fun), no fajitas or ritas (disappointment).

Now that I'm on the back side of summer, I tried the pool, again. Still too cold! Farewell to the lazy days by the pool. I have 4 more weeks until we start school. Just for the record, this was the fastest summer in my books.

I hope everyone else had a delightful summer (and hopefully it didn't go at lightening speed). Email me and let me know what you did this summer, I would love to read about it!

FREAK INCIDENT

2008-07-25T14:46:00.000-07:00

O.K.

So Murphy, our miniature Schnauzer, came back from the groomers a week ago. He usually has a place where he incessantly licks. This time, being no different. He chose his left rear paw. No biggie, right? Well, as the week progresses, he keeps going after his paw. By Sunday, he was obsessed with chewing his foot. Walk, stop, chew. Walk, stop, chew. On and on it went. Vet is closed on Sundays and Mondays (of course). So, Tuesday, I take him in. I'm thinking of just getting him a space-age cone collar. The vet looks at it and says his foot is infected and she would like to drain it, see if there is anything in the wound and start him on some antibiotics. Murphy isn't a fan of people messing with his foot, so it would require sedation. Great. I leave Murphy in trusting hands and go on about my day. I get a phone call about an hour later from the vet. Guess what they found in Murphy's wound?! Grass seed. Yup. Really. How crazy is that? How disgusting is that? He could have picked that up anywhere! Do you know how paranoid I am now of letting him outside?

So, now he dons a space-age cone collar. (he loves it. not.) He mis-judges his space and bumps into everything. It's the funniest thing! He has pretty much mastered the stairs, though. It's still funny to watch. The funniest thing is when he goes outside. He can't quite get a good sniff of the ground to decide where the toilet of the day will be and you can just see frustration all over him! He also can't see the squirrels approaching or streaking by him on the fence. He has that Batman thing going on where he has to practically turn his whole upper half to see.

food for camping trip: $ 75
tank of gas for camping trip: $83
removing grass seed the dog hauled home in his foot from camping trip: $127
watching your dog move about in a space-age cone collar: priceless

Prayer

2008-07-16T09:07:00.000-07:00

O.K., so James asks me this morning, "What have you been praying for?". Not a hard question. One so many times asked by him as well as other people. But, this morning it caught me by surprise. It was difficult to answer. I really haven't been "praying for" anything. My prayers have been more like running commentary on my day and thoughts and ideas and sometimes a little request for help in dealing with two boys and their antics. Sometimes, I would get a prayer request to pray for someone else and of course, I would intercede for them.

I remember a time when it seemed the only time I talked to God was to ask for something. Of course, there would be the usual comments and the gratefulness for what He has done and all of that, and then at the end, I would tack on a request (or two...or more). I thought about that time and wondered if James or my friends would like it if that's how it always was with me and them. I'd talk for awhile, maybe give them an opportunity and then, at the end of the visit, I would ask a "favor" or make a request that they do something. Now, I know God is way more patient than that and He endures so much from me. But this morning, my heart actually ached a little for Him.

I realized that during my time these past couple of months of not really making any requests of God on my behalf, I have been feeling...well, let's just say I've been feeling what the enemy would like for me to believe..."not spiritual". However, from God's perspective, it probably felt more like relief. Like His little girl was actually a bit content and satisfied, perhaps more trusting of Him and not so...worried. I wonder if I had actually been a little more "spiritual" than the norm in respect to mine and God's relationship. That whole trust thing. That whole praying without ceasing. I don't suppose my conversation with God should be peppered with "would you", "could I", etc. to be considered prayer.

Prayer is just talking with God. Sometimes it's me talking "to" God. Sometimes, maybe it isn't saying anything at all? Sometimes, I've noticed this too, that spending time with Him is sort of like laying under an umbrella at a warm beach, and not saying a word...for days (James & I have done that together)There is a comfortable silence and a special kind of knowing just being together. No words. Free and random thoughts. Sometimes, people come to mind and we talk. No big requests for immediate action. Would I consider myself out of relationship? So, what have I been praying for? hmmm.... it's a little hazy here at the beach, with God.

musings about this picture

2008-07-16T08:53:00.000-07:00

I love that I captured this sunflower blowing in the breeze, with the river in the background. It's just a small, inexpensive Kodak camera that was used. Nothing fancy. I like that, too!

The flower, I'll call her Lizzy, really captures the essence of a sunflower. Here she is, in the sunny, warm desert, atop a hill overlooking the cool, blue river below. One can see that she enjoys the wind blowing through her petals. She's happy in the sunlight. She was created for this. That's why they call her a "sunflower". Yellow...the color of sunshine, of happiness, of freedom, of creativity, of free spiritedness. The brown in the center; solid, sturdy, dependable, anchored, thoughtful...not flighty.

The whole composition of this photo is just absolutely amazing to me. I feel encouraged when I see it. I'm going to enjoy it when it's January and it's dark and dreary outside, with cold rain. My picture of Lizzy will speak of another season; not just of summer, but of the heart and spirit.

Fairy Lanterns

2008-07-06T23:05:00.000-07:00

Oregon is just fodder for my imagination. There are so many beautiful and interesting sites to see. So many smells, so many things to hear. Sometimes I feel how Dorothy on the Wizard of Oz must have felt when her black and white world crashed into the technicolor Oz. She slowly opens the door to her Aunt Em's simple farmhouse and there is all of this color and all of this overwhelming scenery that doesn't look like Kansas! I feel that way about Oregon. The colors up here are incredible. The smell of fresh air makes me dizzy and giddy. The sites are beyond words. I love Texas, just as I'm sure Dorothy loved Kansas and the farm, but, what a dream to experience Oz.

So, James and I were hiking up a hill next to the beach and I noticed these little flowers about the size of your baby toe's toenail. They looked like paper lanterns for fairies. Adorable, they were. Well, then, of course, I could just imagine little fairies everywhere along the forested coast using these flowers as lanterns. Then, a flood of ideas for a children's book overtook my mind. I really like how ideas come so easy up here.

By the way, the Tooth Fairy visited Autry last week and left a tiny, handwritten note:

"Dear Autry,

Thank you for the tooth.

Welcome to Oregon.

I am an artist and use teeth for my sculptures.

I live in the big tree on the shortcut to the sidewalk down at the end of your street. Say hi, when you pass by.

-Toothfairy-"

If you don't believe in fairies, then you may not want to live Oregon.

Things I love about Oregon

2008-07-02T15:37:00.000-07:00

berries

85 degree days

60 degree nights

berries

large mountains

colorful flowers

sleeping with windows open

Burgerville milkshakes

Skyline of Portland at Twilight

Columbia River Gorge

sitting outside anytime on a summer day/night

the smell of the air in the morning

Oregon Coast

Farmer's Markets on Saturdays, Sundays, Tuesdays and Wednesdays

Esparza's Tex Mex on 28th and Burnside

seeing Mt. Hood and Mt. St. Helen's on a clear day

A fountain RC cola at Helvetia Tavern (with their hamburgers and french fries!)

berries

hiking trails all over the place

Oregon wine

Dear Everyone,

2008-06-26T09:29:00.000-07:00

It seems summer is here. Although, this is Oregon, and the weather could change in an instant. The rain has been gone for over a week now and we are threatened by 95 degree temps this weekend. I'll head to the pool. :)

The boys have enjoyed their first two weeks of summer by participating in some sport camps. Charlie played flag football and wants to play in the Fall. This week, they are doing Track and Field events. In addition, on Wednesday evenings is an "All Comers Track Meet", throughout July. The boys want to compete in that. In two weeks, they will benefit from a Skateboarding camp ("Finally, we'll learn how to ________!"). Then, Autry (and Charlie is still considering) will learn the game of Lacrosse. That should wrap up the month of July.

We are looking forward to visitors next month as well. We'll be celebrating the 4th of July with James' mom, who will arrive next Tuesday and visit for about a week. Then, at the end of July, my mom and dad will be visiting. We will also be squeezing in a church-wide campout in the middle of July.

Then, in August, we will resume our quiet little life of just the four of us. Ahhhh...still summer (school officially begins up here after Labor Day). Now you are aware of our plans. And I'll post some pictures as the days go on and as adventures continue.

I think of you all quite frequently and say a little prayer (sometimes) when I do. We miss everyone and would love to see you and hang out with you again. Someday...

I hope you have a marvelous summer and make terrific family/friend memories. Cherish those who are in your life and make it a point to hang out with them this summer, while you supposedly have time. Eat together. Laugh together. Play. Enjoy your relationships. This is my desire for "all ya'll".

With lots of Love,
m

a book titled "The Shack"

2008-06-21T21:20:00.000-07:00

has anyone read it? Please let me know your thoughts on it. Thanks.

I DID IT!

2008-06-20T08:52:00.001-07:00

I went to the pool yesterday! It was 75 degrees and sunny. It felt like 82. Still not quite hot enough, but I went anyway. Yes, I wore a swim suit. Yes, I put sunblock SPF 50 on me. Yes, I took snacks and a book. NO, I DID NOT GET INTO THE WATER! Are you crazy??!! My boys did, though.

Then, in a real rush of joy for marking the beginning of summer, I turned the a/c on in my car when we were coming home. Of course, I had to freeze us out because to get it to "blow like we like it" I had to set it to 59 degrees!! The boys thought that was funny, because in TX, the lowest we could get it was 74 (it only cools 20 degrees less than the outside temp), and typically, it was more like 78 or 80 degrees inside the car ("blowing like we like it"). So, we get home and think we'll linger in the swimsuits for awhile and sip on some lemonade. Well, it was a little chilly for that, so we changed clothes and still had lemonade. No nap. The heat didn't "take it out of us".

Regardless, we, Michelle, Autry and Charlie can now say, "Summer is here".

Rites of Summer

2008-06-18T09:25:00.000-07:00

New place. Familiar season. Confusion.

It's summer-time in Oregon (the Northern Hemisphere, generally speaking). It's 52 degrees on June 18th at 9:30 a.m. I have been wearing a light jacket or "hoodie" for about 2 months now. I suspect this will be case for most of the year. But, this very act is messing with my psyche. You see, I am accustomed to marking the beginning of summer (in Texas that would be mid-May) with a trip to the pool (outdoors, heated by the sun, with 90+ degree heat surrounding my body and sunshine beaming down on everyone). Then, summer routine sets in. Wake up, eat breakfast/brunch and head out to the pool about 10a.m., snack on berries and lemonade and nuts while reading for 15 minutes, dipping into the pool to cool off for 10 minutes (repeat as needed), go home about 1:30p.m, shower off and lotion up, put shorts and sleeveless shirt on, take a nap/do some school work/visit friends/go to mall or movies, prepare salad and some meat for the grill, eat dinner (with or without friends), head outside with the electric fan (hot patio and it keeps mosquitoes at bay for a little while), start swatting the mosquitoes after an hour ( they get hungry and persevere through the "fan wind") and head back inside, shower off (again, because of the sweat and general stickiness and perhaps the smoke from the grill is still stuck to your skin), slip into thin cotton gown, baby oil slathered on, watch some re-runs or a movie, head to bed about 10:30pm (the sun has been gone for an hour and a half!).

That was my routine. Everyday. It was great! I miss that. I don't know anything else. So wearing this blue "hoodie" is confusing for me. It is summer (the calendar tells me so), but there hasn't been a rite of passage into summer this year. I don't know what to do with myself quite frankly. Go to the pool? HA! It's 52 degrees, remember? Sip some lemonade? How about some hot cocoa, it's 52 degrees! I guess I'll go curl up on the sofa with a blanket and a book and a cup of hot (rather than iced) tea.

Okay, so here are some exceptional things about summer in Oregon (my mom says I should find the bright side): STRAWBERRIES (they taste naturally like a Welch's Strawberry drink),
CHERRIES ($1.99/lb woohoo), NO MOSQUITOES (that I'm aware of), FLOWERS ARE STILL BLOOMING (holy cow!! you should see some of the flowers you could buy at the farmers markets, which are an every Saturday occurrence at various convenient locations and I should say they make this "brighter side" list) NO HUMIDITY, NO STICKY, ICKY, SWEATING, and it's 52 degrees outside at 9:48a.m on a Wednesday morning in mid/late June.

nuances

2008-06-10T19:59:00.000-07:00

So things here in Oregon are mostly like the rest the United States. But, it's when one moves and begins to live somewhere different does one realize there are just a few slight differences. I'm sure these things vary from region to region as well as culture to culture. Here are a few differences that I've noticed living here in Oregon as opposed to Texas:

Parking lots - several ways in but two ways out (and it takes awhile to figure that out, put it to memory and retrieve that data when needed). You may or may not be allowed to exit the same way you entered.
Bicycle lanes - yes, there on the right hand side just this side of the shoulder. And, what really takes getting used to is looking for the cyclists before you switch to the right turning lane, because the cycling lane divides the right turn lane and the straight away lane.
Having someone else pump your gas. It is unlawful for me to do it. So, if there is a vacant pump and a time constraint and a slow attendant...well, there's a situation. At least it isn't hot out!
There aren't any fried chicken joints. Well, KFC, but really, there aren't any fried chicken joints.
Portlanders are proud of their beer. More proud than Texans.
Dawn's light (in June) occurs between 4:45 and 5:05 a.m.
Evening twilight continues until 10:15pm (will probably be longer in July).
Movie theatre auditoriums are smaller. More compact. Stadium seating, yes. 2 story auditoriums, no. Big and wide auditoriums, no.
Recycling receptacles are at the city parks.
$.05 refunds on beer bottles.
$.05 surcharge for every plastic bottle or can of soda (pop, as it is termed up here). Yes, you buy a 6 pack or a 24 pack, you pay the sale price + $.05/bottle/can.
Not too many clover shaped on/off ramps at the freeways
Purple houses up here don't look so bad and wealthy people just might live in one!
Subaru's are the car of choice, so it seems. Not too many pickup trucks.
Dogs rule. They can go just about anywhere here.

That's just off the top of my head. I know there are more things, but I'm out of time.

What I'm Thinking About Right Now

2008-05-30T09:10:00.002-07:00

My sweetie.
Our 15th wedding anniversary (May 29th)
Our weekend away from two boys (May 31-June 1st)
The beautiful scenery we'll see here in Oregon
The pleasant 70/75 degree weathe (all weekend)
Jake's seafood restaurant ( the "best" in Portland)
A beer inspired by a type of rock (obsidian)
My parents coming to visit in July/Aug.
How the Villa's weekend will be with my two boys
A warm beach would be nice
15 years with my sweetie, my best friend, my favorite person on the planet, my lover, my biggest fan

Annoying emails

2008-05-30T09:10:00.000-07:00

you know the ones... the one I'm referring to, today however, is the "Don't-vote-for-Obama-do-you-know-who-he-is-it-is-scary-etc. " email that most of my Christian friends have forwarded to me in the past friggin' 8 months!!! Now, I love my friends. But, just let me rant a moment about this. IS THIS REALLY THE WORST THING THAT COULD HAPPEN? God is aware of the entire world and what is going on. In fact, He pretty much has set the days and times to his timepiece. The Bible predicts the end of the world and there is absoulutely NOTHING we can do to stop it. If Obama being prez means we are now at the "end of the world", just like the Bible predicts, then GLORY TO GOD! JESUS WILL BE RETURNING VERY SOON AND THIS COULD BE THE VERY BEST THING THAT HAPPENS!!

I love America. I love the church (those who are part of the body of Christ). I love people. I don't like that we, as Americans, have had it far too easy compared to the rest of civilization on this planet. Don't get me wrong, I like it easy. In fact, I looooove easy. But, easy doesn't cause us to grow. Easy breeds selfishness and so many times, lack of compassion. We have to be jarred awake to have compassion. I"m only talking about me, of course. I have it so easy that I have to be shown or told about someone suffering before I will feel empathy (just simply knowing in the back of my head that there is human suffering doesn't motivate me, sadly. Perhaps I feel like I can't make a difference, so why bother). Then, there is this whole filter of thoughts to bring about pity or compassion. Compassion is when I actually DO SOMETHING ABOUT IT. Pity is when, I feel bad that "they" don't have it as easy as me and so I will say a prayer for "them" and maybe throw some change in the coffers and then go about my merry way. This is pretty much how I live my American Christian life. I have a hunch that most of us live this way, also.

So, how does having Obama as president change things? Well if you've ever read any of those "alarming" emails, it apparently changes everything we know to be "American way of life". Maybe that's God's plan? Hmmmm.... maybe it's time to take persecution seriously. Maybe we will pray more fervently. Maybe we would repent and not be so prideful. Maybe these hard times will really cause us to press into God in a more real and substantial way. Maybe our hearts toward our fellow man would be affected in such a way that we would start to show love. Maybe that's the difference it could make. Things could be so bad, that we band together and as Jesus said, it's by our love for one another that they will know we are His disciples. Not love of ourselves and our easy American life. But, our love for others and being motivated by this love to reach out with compassion, not pity. We, perhaps will come to understand God in a whole new way and allow His love to flow through us to others for the world to see.

I by no way mean to discredit the gravity of this presidential election. I am aware that there is a spiritual war going on in the heavenlies and I know how leadership can affect the country. I also know the power of prayer, and the contentment of knowing that God is in ultimate control and it is ONLY HIM THAT GIVES PEACE in such an unsettling atmosphere. We should all look to Him and truly trust that He knows what is best. He promises to never leave us nor forsake us. If you know, and I mean really KNOW those truths, then, really, is having Obama for president really the worst thing that could happen?

picture

2008-05-28T16:45:00.001-07:00

This is a park about 3 miles north of us. We discovered it Monday on a family bike ride. It is near the library. I'm sure the boys and I will frequent this park this summer when we ride our bikes to the library, select some books and go picnic at this loveley park.

new virtual digs

2008-05-28T16:17:00.000-07:00

Here I am. I moved the punchbowl to blogger. Hopefully, this will be easier for me as well as my guests to use. Please let me know if you like the new location. This is the end of this post.

the punchbowl

He Nudged Me

a misspelled question

The Cookie

It's Painfully Obvious

Another 40 Day Project

10 Weeks!

New Dough in Town

Oh Walter...

Flipping-out on this Freaky Friday over Flirtatious Females

Michelle's Summer 2010: 10 Things

Accessories For Sid

My Most Recent Encounter with the Po-Po

Sid Slipped in the Shower

RED ALERT! RED ALERT!

Wondering Through the Bread Galaxy

Warp Speed

Random Redux

Snarky is Snomore

Day 31: Pucker Up You Corny Blueberry

Dear Bread Diary, My Love,

Day 30: Peanut Butter Bread

Avoidance

Day 29: I'm Lookin' Over a 4 Leaf Clover

Day 28: My Little Monkey

Day 27: Sid's Country Cousins

Dressed Up Snarky

Day 26: OOOOH, Honey!

Day 25: I Used an Alaskan

Cranky

Day 24: Beer Biscuits

Day 23: Cinnamon Loaf

Day 22: ...bagels

Day 21: Tortilla Cocina

Week 4: Dear Bread Diary

Day 20: Plays Well With Others (refrigerator rolls; attempt #2)

Day 19: Death & Taxes Bread

Day 18: Raising the Bar

Snarky's Vacation Photos

Dear Bread Diary (Week 3)

Day 17: One a Penny, Two a Penny

Day 16: Refrigerator Rolls (attempt #1)

Bread Boogers

Day 15: Holy Hamburger Buns, Batman!

Day 14: Schticky Schtuff

Day 13: FryDay Funnel Cakes

Dear Bread Diary!!! *hiss*

Snarky's Story (the early years)

Day 12: A Dozen Days, A Dozen Scones

Day 11: Sid's Sourdough Showdown

Random Sourdough Facts

Day 10: Doughnuts for Dinner!

Snarky Sourdough

Day 9: Third Time is a Charm Bread

Day 8: Irish Soda Bread

Day 7: French Triplets

Day 6: In a Rush Because That's the Way I Roll Bread (40 Loaves for 40 Days)

Musings From the First Week

Day 5: Fried Bread Friday

Day 4: Life is #@*! Bread (40 Loaves for 40 Days)

Day 3: I Throw an Egg at the Dough (40 Loaves for 40 Days)

Day 2: Pride Comes Before a Fall Bread (40 Loaves for 40 Days)

40 Loaves for 40 Days

I'm Waiting Here

Going Home

Married to God

News Flash

Sucked Into Suburbia

Thin Places

poem: "Fire" by: Judy Brown

Thankfulness in Crisis

cracking the code

September Mornings

WHERE DID THE SUMMER GO?

FREAK INCIDENT

Prayer

musings about this picture

Fairy Lanterns

Things I love about Oregon

Dear Everyone,

Dear Bread Diary!!! hiss