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).

Sid Slipped in the Shower

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!

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.