A Pie and Pigs Fly

I believe in the power of positive thinking and truly writing your own story.  What follows here is a silly example but it's still one in which I thought about something and how I wanted it to turn out and then made it happen.  Wrote the story so to speak.  

A couple weeks before I went on my spring trip to Arizona, I had this feeling of wanting to bake a pie with my mom, door open to the backyard letting the breeze float in. 

It happened.  The pie started in the afternoon with the crust making while the sun was still out and ended after enjoying a delicious meal outside made by Dad-o.  

After the crust went into the fridge that afternoon, I went on a bike ride with both of my parents at the same time for the first time ever in my thirty years of existence.  When you grow up on a farm in North Dakota, summer is for working.  There are a great deal of when pigs fly moments that seem to happen when in that desert air.  If you would have told my eleven year old self that one day I'd be riding bike down a street in an Arizona city with my mom next to me and my dad ahead of us taking the lead, I would have gave you a look.  A look and then a when pigs fly.  

Never count things out I guess.  

My parents left after the sun disappeared to get Sister Pister from the airport and I finished the pie with my ugliest lattice work to date while music joined the breeze floating.  The pie went in the oven and I finished my glass of white by the fire.  I could live by a fire all the time, these constant cold bones of mine love being roasted.    

Sometimes things just feel really right.  All is aligned and you just can't help but give a thank you kiss to the sky.  Give a thank you to when pigs fly.   

Not Jealous at All

I could get irritated that it is easier for her.  Yes, it could give me some green envy.  That she can just pick up yarn and look at directions and make anything.  Flowers for your hair!  Winter headbands!  Coffee cozies!  Cowls!  Beanie hats!  Chevron blankets!  

While I have to do one project over and over again until I basically memorize it, for written directions are like a maze to this brain of mine.  Here's where I will admit I still can not to this day, hook up a DVD player or a computer or anything which requires that form of thinking.    

But I don't.  I don't get irritated and I'm not green with envy.  Rather I just keep asking her for help instead.  Grateful for the time with my little sister on the morning after Chrismas.  Still wearing our kind of jammies and sitting on opposite ends of the couch chatting about life in between my pleas of, "Okay now what does a double crochet stitch mean again?  Like tell me in loop and pull or loop and pull through two or what?"  

Maybe if we were closer in age, there would be more sister competition and general pissed off-ness at her ability to pick all things up so easily.  But because I'm an entire decade older, I simply feel proud of that nugget.  She is smart.  She is kind.  And she is one mean little crocheter.  

However, I'm not sure if she has surpassed this one yet.  Momma Debi has it going on when it comes to anything involving thread or yarn and stitches.  

I'll always be in last place in this category, but I'm entirely at peace with it.  I really am.  Meager memorizing crocheting is my style.  

It's not like to get some revenge, I'd share a really unattractive picture of us in the morning having a laugh over her random blurt, "The train.  I heard the train in Hartland."  A really unattractive picture of the two of us.  No, I would never do that.    

Up Up Time

Today was back to work day and now that it's evening, I think I feel alright with it.  Well, I have to be in compliance since the money tree for the backyard hasn't been delivered yet.  That Amazon Prime two day shipping isn't all it's cracked up to be.  Anyways back to what I was saying, I tend to take the week and a half or so of Christmas break to really fall off the routine and structure bandwagon.  I do things like eat coffee ice cream after having cinnamon sugar toast and I sleep until seven and don't do any running or really much of any activity other than sitting cross legged with a crochet hook or lifting a coffee mug to my face while visiting.  

 

 

And I have decided I need those days of no rules with wearing leggings with fuzzy socks and nights of baths with wine and a book.  It actually makes me itch and want the structure.  The down time makes me want the up time back.  I was excited last night to set my alarm for 4:42 to hit the gym and I felt back in control while packing my lunch with real food like carrots.  The novelty will wear off again and then force of habit will take over but for now, I'm enjoying it all feeling like new resolve.   

It's up time again.  Go time.   

But that's not to take away from the magic that was Christmas break this year.        

  

I am fairly certain I could have really handled a few more days off but like I said previously, I think I'm alright with being back in the game.  Days of playing with helicopters and enjoying homemade tomato soup with ridiculous grilled cheese and never taking off glorified pajamas can't last forever.  Right?  Money tree where are you?     

Clean Cookies

Snow day around these parts today.  I think it probably is more of an ice day but I'm not the expert on those kinds of things.  I just know my phone rang at 5 something this morning with a recording of something to the effects of there's no school today so wear your pajamas until 10:20 am, write a blog post about oatmeal and raisin cookies you made, drink too much coffee, and...

 

Well, really it just said no school. 

 

Here's what is not nice about a snow day, you have to make it up. 

 

Here's what is nice about a snow day, it's not a planned day off so all of the laundry and cleaning and organizing and other getting stuff done that is usually saved for those days off...is well...done. 

 

 

This morning I tried out a recipe I found on Pinterest.  And it is a win.   

 

Basically, you take 2 large too ripe bananas and 1 cup of quick oats and mash them together.  You might have to add a little more oats because all bananas are not created equally. 

 

That's the base of the cookie and anything could be added after the initial mix.  Chocolate chips, chopped up walnuts, cinnamon, tiny apple pieces, raisins, etc...  Whatever your heart desires.  I added a quarter cup of raisins to mine. 

 

Then make sure you grease your cookie sheet because caked on oatmeal is about as fun to clean up an entire bowl of popcorn spilled on the floor of your car.   

 

Drop cookies and slightly smash down with fork.  I made 15 cookies. 

 

Bake at 350 degrees for 15 minutes and then place the cookies on either parchment paper or a wire rack so they don't get soggy while they cool. 

 

 

But I recommend eating one or two while they are warm.  Delicious. 

 

If you make fifteen cookies, each one has 37 calories.  That's figured with the raisins added.  If you added other things, it would change.  Stating the obvious there.

 

 

I enjoyed two this morning with my third cup of coffee, they filled me right up and are still sticking two and a half hours later.  That's a winner of a breakfast. 

 

 

I know these will also come in quite handy when I have that I'm so hungry I might eat my own hand feeling. 

 

Hand...handy...I'll stop now. 



Not a Whine Fest

We made it to February folks.  

I am aware it's just another day on the calendar, but can I get an AMEN that this morning maybe, possibly, just might have felt like one step closer to some springy spring?  

Like I had a moment of wanting to wear my heels without socks.  But then I remembered I live in North Dakota and the temperature outside was negative eight.  

So socks I put on and instead wore four shirts. 



But February!  It's here.  

And in years past, February has not been my best friend.  It tends to be the month when I question my entire existence.  Why do I teach?  Why do I live here?  Why do I have curly hair?  Why are my fingernails always breaking in the winter?  Why can I not for the life of me remember to buy light bulbs?  Or decaffeinated tea?  Why do I have to wake up and get dressed every single day?  Why is my middle name Beth?  

I mean really.  February has a nasty little track record in my book.  

But I'm making a vow.  Right here and right now.  This February will not be the whine fest of Februaries past.  There will be no calling Whine-1-1 going on over here.   

Side note.  When turning a month into a plural and it ends in a 'y' does one change the 'y' to an 'i' and add 'es' or does one use an apostrophe even though it doesn't show ownership but because it's a proper noun and probably should be pluralized in the first place does it break all rules then?  Again, this month shows lots of complexities!  

Here's to me figuring out some way to make February fun.  Right now I'm envisioning sewing red and pink and white felt hearts into a garland.  I think that's my first step.

 

Oh and then next I think I'll get me some of those felt balls I see flying around everywhere and make a wreath!  A wreath in February.  Yes that is the ticket.   

Pretty fixes things for me.  I can't fight it.  Instead, I roll.

Another side note.  I'm fairly certain whimsy might be favorite word ever.  Ever.  

 

 

And my grandma's locket.  Also my favorite.  Ever.  I have a lot of favorite evers I've noticed. 

 



Pizza Pizza Pizza

Homemade pizza crust.  Once you go there, you'll never go back. 

This whole wheat version was given to me by the technology director of our district.  Karen and I were students of his in grad school one semester and ever since we gave him nonstop hugs and ridiculousness, he has kept tabs.  Like the time I ran into him in the gym and he said, "I figured out a really great way to make whole wheat pizza crust."  And I said back, "Well share it with me!" 

So he did.  Sent me the recipe and now I'm a pizza crust making fool. 

1 1/2 cups warm water
2 cups bread flour
1 1/2 cups whole wheat flour
2 tsp active dry yeast
1 tbsp sugar
2 tbsp olive oil

• Warm the water to "baby bottle" temperature (this is Momma Debi terminology) and add the olive oil.
• Add the yeast to the warm olive oil water and let sit for a few minutes until the yeast starts to do its thing (this is my terminology.
• In your mixer's bowl, combine all dry ingredients and add the yeast concoction to the top, mix with bread hook on low until well combined, and then switch to just a titch faster for about 5 minutes.  I can always tell dough is ready when it starts to slap the sides of my bowl.  You'll know what I mean when you make it.  Slap, slap, slap it goes. 
• Take the dough out to a floured counter and knead for 5 more minutes.  
• Put it back into the bowl.
• Cover bowl with damp cloth and let dough rise in a warm place for 10 minutes.  In front of fireplace is rocking.
• Split dough in half and form into discs (freeze one now if you want).
• Coat pizza pan with cooking spray, spread one dough disc.
• Use fork to put some holes in the top.
• Bake crust at 450° for 7 minutes or until just barely crusty to the touch, take it out of oven.   
• Pop the oven temp up to 500° (just to ensure the oven is hot hot when the pizza goes in). 
• Top the crust with sauce, toppings, and cheese.
• Put the oven temp back down to 450° and bake for 15-20 minutes, or until nicely browned.  Remember it's a whole wheat crust so it will look more brown than usual.  You don't want a soggy middle pizza!  

**Yes I use the tablespoon of sugar in this recipe.  I haven't tried honey as a substitute yet or tried it without but I'm thinking it would probably be just fine either way. 

Making pizza dough is especially the greatest while still not showered and changed from the gym, with hood up too.  That's really classy but there's not much you can do about it while your hands are in the dough and someone flips the hood on top of your head.

Also I have noticed I tend to do my cooking with cupboard doors open.  Is anyone with me on that?   

I think of my grandma every single time I knead dough.  Every single time. 

Sunday sunlight streaming makes spending time in the kitchen a beautiful thing. 

The recipe makes enough for two large pizzas so after it has risen, I lop it in half and know there is a crust ready and waiting in the freezer for a quick week night meal.  And yes, I made this pizza back on January 6, 2013 in case you wanted to know. 

After you squish the dough around on a pan, take a fork and make some holes; I learned that trick from Momma Debi when I was growing up.  It helps with air bubbles.  It's also important you bake the crust for about seven minutes before you put the sauce and toppings on, prevents the soggy crust syndrome.  I learned that from my first ever real job of being a Hot Stuff Pizza girl at the local gas station when I was fourteen. 

Pizza sauce from the garden is the best ever.  Plan to have a garden next year please. 

This day, I had leftover ham in my fridge so it was shredded and put on the pizza.  It was different and delicious in its very own way.   

Sometimes figuring out what to do next is difficult for me. 

Voila!  Pizza!  I bet you can guess which part is mine.  No pepperonis and white cheese only, thank you very much.  

I was so hungry by the time it was out of the oven I forget to take a picture of the finished product.  So instead look at my plate of cut up pizza.  And here's one more bossy Amy moment for the road...cutting in squares is totally the way to go. 

Now, go forth and pizza crust.  Shoot.  That was bossy again.      

Bread, a Quilt, and my Mom

Yesterday I tried something new.  That being baking bread not in a loaf pan but instead in a circular artisan style, hoping to create a bread bowl for spinach dip for today's last Christmas gathering with my dad's whole family. 

After a quick conference at the grocery store with their bread baker about parchment paper and using heat to make it rise high, I came home to give it a whirl as omelettes were being made on the other side of the kitchen.  I told you it was a just on this side of fabulous kind of Saturday. 

While the bread was rising by the fire, Christmas decorations came down which is not nearly as fun as putting them up.  Although I do find serious satisfaction in getting my house back in order.  I don't think it's a coincidence we all start the new year with clean houses; someday I will share my thoughts about how a cluttered environment makes for a cluttered mind, but that's not today. 

Today I'm talking about bread.  And how it actually did what it was supposed to do! 

The spinach dip is now made, the bread is cut into a bowl, and I'm ready for the family gathering this afternoon. 

Every year, we have a women's gift exchange and a men's gift exchange and we fight over the presents.  Mostly because it's fun to mock fight.  Partly because sometimes we really want something.  My mom makes a quilt every year, which is always a hot item.  This year she has been struggling with her health a bit since Thanksgiving (more on that later too).  Momma Debi wasn't sure if she'd get one made. 

The day after Christmas, which let's remember was Wednesday, my dad told her he would help and they would get one done.  Help he did and my mom worked her magic to create yet another beautiful quilt.  In four days. 

Last night my family all came over to my house for cheese, wine, and cards. 

We played International Rummy and my dad lost which always makes things interesting.  But it's part of his charm, as is supporting my mom and helping her with quilts.  You have to love him for both. 

While we played and Billy was exposed to the competitiveness for the first time, my mom sat next to me in my flower chair and finished hand stitching the binding. 

My mom is a saint.  She would never say how she doesn't feel well right now and how she finished that quilt despite of it, but I can say she is a wonder.  Because she is. 

And please add Momma Debi to your thoughts and say some extra prayers for her as we head into January with some important appointments and hopefully some not scary news.  For now, we will celebrate Christmas one more time today and spend time together.  And the quilt will be cherished by who ever's hands it lands in.