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.
Thursday, November 4, 2010
Tuesday, October 26, 2010
New Dough in Town
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.
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.
Thursday, October 7, 2010
Oh Walter...
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 waskneaded 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.
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
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.
Saturday, August 28, 2010
Tuesday, July 27, 2010
Michelle's Summer 2010: 10 Things
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.
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
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!
Wednesday, July 14, 2010
Accessories For Sid
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!
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 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.
Monday, June 28, 2010
My Most Recent Encounter with the Po-Po
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).
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).
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