The Bread

Baking is weird.

First of all, it's mostly washing dishes, I'm discovering. What no one tells you is that Sewing is mostly ironing, Football is mostly getting up off the ground, and Baking is mostly washing dishes. That's ok. That's cool. I can handle that. I just wasn't expecting it, that's all.

What's really weird, though, is the anxiety about whether or not something is gonna turn out ok. With other crafts, I certainly have the same anxiety (see all my posts about being sure I'm on the verge of ruining something completely). But here's the difference: you're not going to feed a quilt to somebody. If you make a scarf that has a weird flaw in it, no one's going to actually throw up. Different game, different stakes with the baking.

Since I don't cook, I don't spend any time with this I-might-be-poisoning-people fear, and I imagine it passes. (I should say on the record that I really appreciate the fact that my Sidekick hasn't poisoned me yet, what with my not cooking and everything.) To be fair, I am exaggerating about how big a deal this particular fear is. I follow instructions closely, and I mostly figure it'll all work out. But still, the outer edge of failure here is poisoning. With other crafts, it's just humiliation.

That being said, I've made bread.

 

My first go at bread ever was using this recipe. As it turns out, there's a major craze associated with this bread and its no-knead method. I am quite late to this crazy party, but it doesn't make me any less enthusiastic about it. (I had a similar experience over Thanksgiving when I took a train from New York to Boston and was all, "Traveling by rail is absolutely delightful!" Super late to that party.)

 

These are pictures of my third try with this recipe. Forgive me for asking that you imagine the first two, since no blog meant no photos.

My very first try was marked by the bread being partially burned. When you think your Sidekick has put the rack on the very bottom of the oven explicitly for you, and he hasn't? You get a burned bread bottom. Don't think I wasn't real salty about this. In spite of this flaw, the bread did make for the most delicious grilled cheese sandwiches of all time. What really kicked it over was the Cougar Gold cheese, courtesy of my wasband. My Sidekick, my wasband, and I could not believe our good fortune eating those sandwiches. Highly recommended!

The second try at the bread was less eventful and totally delicious. And as you see here in try number three, I scrapped the oat bran and went with only flour on the outside. Fantastic in its own right.

What's not weird about this whole baking thing and me is that I've now bought the cookbook by the bread guy and a new dutch oven to make all kinds of this bread, and all I want to do is make more bread. In fact, a loaf of asiago cheese bread from that book is cooling on my counter right this moment. Photos to follow, provided everything goes according to plan. May no one be harmed in the eating of that bread. Amen.

I forgot

In the time I've been away from crafting, I've managed to completely forget some pretty fundamental things. How to thread my sewing machine. Where I put my knitting patterns. Things like that. But there are three really big things that I should've remembered but didn't, until today:

1. There are * a billion * beautiful items to make out there in the world.
2. The Purl Bee is a source of many of those beautiful items.
3. Purl wants all of my money. ALL of my money.

So, I want to make this garland, right?

 

Photo from The Purl Bee

Yes, yes. We all want to make this garland. Well, it's a MILLION dollars. So if you have an extra million lying around, this is the project for you. It calls for 10 colors of wool felt at $ 8.50 a pop. That's eighty-five dollars, y'all! For garland! For adorable garland, sure, but ow-wee.

I really want to make it, though. So I thought I'd be all clever and do some bargain shopping for wool felt. I figured it was worth a try.

First, I tried this place. Felt was a little less expensive there, but I couldn't really be sure about the colors. So, I couldn't pull the trigger.

Then I remembered that this place is right around the corner from me now. If it's good enough for the LA season of Project Runway, it should be good enough for me! I went there, thoughtfully looked at all the colors, carefully touched all the weights. Then, before I got in too deep, I checked the prices. Hey! $25-35 a yard! Great! Oh, wait. Not great. Not great at all. Still around the same price as my beloved Purl, I'm pretty sure. I left the store with the invisible thread that the garland pattern calls for, spending a whopping $1.92.

Can you imagine how beautiful my garland is going to be? It will be 5 strands of invisible thread draped from my dining room ceiling. It'll be grand. 

Harumph! The only thing that may save me here is a Purl gift certificate from a year and a half ago that I still have not redeemed. I could throw that at this problem and see where we get. But, really? Shouldn't there be some other way? (Please don't say acrylic felt. I'm so very afraid you'll say acrylic felt. Isn't it a fire hazard? Aaaaargh.)

This whole thing fills me with a gnawing, swirling, crazy mix of desire and trepidation. Hey, there it is! I'm pretty sure that very specific cocktail of feelings is the sign that I'm officially back! No matter what happens with the garland, it was all worth it to get to that.

Yum

Thanks for hanging in with me here, people. I'm getting back in the groove. It's all happening. I may not be posting every day, but I assure you, I am working to get back there.

In the meantime...

I was at the gym yesterday, waiting for my exercise class to start and chatting with a woman standing next to me. It was a very lovely conversation, friendly and jovial.

Woman: Have you been to that giant new grocery store down the street from you?

Me: No. I don't go into grocery stores.

Woman: What? Do you have any food in your house?

Me: I do!

Woman: How does it get there?

Me: My partner does all the shopping. It's great.

Woman: Do you cook?

Me: No, no. He does all the cooking. I really don't do any of that.

Woman: Oh, wow. Do you do anything?!

Me: Ha HA! I must be good for something!

I found this exchange hilarious and delightful. I am good for so many things.

Here's one thing I'm good for that you didn't even know about:

 

 Graham cracker chewy bars

BOOM! I'm baking, y'all! This is new. Super new.

This baking thing started when my Sidekick and I moved into a new house a couple of months ago. Well, that's not entirely true. I seem to recall I made a lot of chocolate mousse when I was a child, so let's just say this is not my first baked-goods rodeo. It is worth noting, though, that the last time I was at said rodeo, I was probably wearing something with Holly Hobbie on it, so I can't get all big-headed about it or anything.

Here's the point: these bars are delicious. The link to the recipe is here. You should make them. Then you should eat them. Because, as I've mentioned, they are delicious.

Also, delicious?

That little poodle sitting in the sun. I was taking pictures of my chewy bars, and there he was, just staring out the window, right under the table. So sweet.

So my Sidekick may do all the cooking, but I am on the case with the baked goods. Well, that and the bread. (More on the bread another time.) Hooray and yum!

It begins

I have a question for you. It's kind of like a story problem.

Let's say you own a store. For the sake of this question, let's say it's a yarn store. You sell yarn.

You with me? Great.

Ok, so let's say that you decide that your yarn store will be open Monday through Saturday. You need to rest one day a week, so that day will be Sunday. You further decide you'll be open from 12-6pm. You want to be able to sleep in and have some time to relax in the evenings. Very reasonable. Monday through Saturday, 12-6. These will be your business hours.

So, here's the question: If a person goes to your store on a Friday at 12:30pm planning to buy yarn, money in hand, soaked from the torrential downpour that is this week's weather in Los Angeles, what are the chances that that person will be able to enter your store and buy the yarn that you are selling?

Think about it. Show your work. Carry the 2... Don't get cocky.

The answer is:

0. Zero percent chance. Why? Because. Just because.

Here's the dialogue you might have supplied with your answer:

Me: Yeah, hi, I know you're not responsible for them or anything, but do you know if the store next door is planning on being open today? It says on the door that she's open Monday through Saturday, from 12 to 6, and it's 12:30 now.
Hip Guy at the store next door to the yarn store: Oh, yeah. They should be open. Try knocking.
Me: I did actually.
Hip Guy: Hm. Yeah. Sometimes they do that.
Me: Do that?
HG: Don't open even though there's someone there.
Me: ???
HG: There's someone there. Sometimes they just don't open. You could try knocking on the metal door around back.
Me: Really?
HG: Yeah.
Me: Ok, I'll try that. Thank you. I appreciate it. So sorry to bother you.
HG: No, no. People come in here all the time asking me that same question.
Me: ???!!!
HG: I guess she's just on her own schedule over there.

You did not have to include the fact that no one answered the back door in your answer.

Here is a follow-up question: You, with the yarn store over there. What are you, made of money?
Further: What, my money's no good with you?
And finally: Come ON, people. Really?!

Just like riding a bike

Ok. Sure. But what if I never learned to ride a bike? Then what? Then when I go back to something after a long time, it's just like... like... driving a car? Reading a book? Making macaroni? These are not helpful, able though I may be to do each and every one of those things.

Now, when I tell you it's been a long time, I mean I haven't made anything in the last year and half. Really. Though the last thing I did make was kind of glorious.

In this photo you can actually see two things I made in August of '08: (1) Loksins socks. (2) A broken toe.

Funny story.

You know how when you're really looking forward to something, like say your very favorite dance class of all time that just happens to fall exactly on your 40th birthday for example, and you get all excited about it and can't stop talking about how it's your salvation and how it signals the beginning of a wonderful turning point in life? Well, that's when you break your toe getting out of bed. No dance class on your 40th. A black boot all summer long. No salvation. Only pain.

The socks, though. Those were awesome! They were the socks in question in this spectacular incident. And they were beautiful. (Pattern: Loksins. Yarn: Lisa Souza.)

I cannot begin to imagine what it would take to make such a sock today. I am so rusty, so out of the loop. But! We're... getting back on the horse? Looking on the bright side? Gladly paying tomorrow for a hamburger today? No. No. No.

I have to tell you. I had no idea that not learning how to ride a bike would come back to bite me like this. Not like this.

Oh, hi there.

Remember when I had a blog?

That was awesome.

I would like to have a blog again. Mostly because it was great -- the making of stuff, the cracking of jokes, the loving of all things fantastic -- all great. But even more great than all of that? Being connected to other people who are making, cracking, and loving, too.

So, let's see what we might get going here. Rusty though I may be, I would really like to make, crack and love together again.

(Note to self: "Make, crack, and love" probably not the best slogan. Relies heavily on punctuation. Could very easily be misunderstood. Revise!)

Gratuitous photo of my adorable poodle who is all for doing this thing.

Slowing down

Thank you so much to each and every one of you who has left a comment and kept me and my dear friends in your thoughts. This is the first time I've looked at the blog since I last posted, and I am touched and overwhelmed at your kindness. Really, really - thank you.

What I didn't say in the previous post was that the friend who died was 39 years old when he was killed in that traffic accident in May. He had been a very close friend of mine for 20 years.

Another thing I didn't mention is that he met the love of his life -- the woman I've called B-SNAK here -- at my 30th birthday party. She and I had been working together and developing a friendship back then, and when I invited her to my party, they fell in love. And they were a gloriously perfect match. Both brilliant and funny. Both political and passionate. Both committed to a lifetime together filled with love and laughter and critical thinking ('cause that's how we nerds do).

And that all ended in an instant.

My dearest friend was not killed by a drunk driver. He was not killed by someone on a cell phone. My friend was killed by a guy who was just in a hurry. A perfectly nice guy I'm sure. But in a hurry all the same. One minute he's just trying to get where he's going, the next minute he's wrecked countless lives by killing someone.

I beg of you: please drive safely out in this world. Please look out for others. Please do your best to factor in enough time to get where you're going so you're not in a rush on the roads. And if you can't do that -- if time really isn't on your side for reasons beyond your control -- please be late. Please. I beg of you.