Tag Archives: baking bread

BEST TIMES FOR EVERYTHING

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Needless to say I haven’t found the cure to my after lunch blues. Maybe it is just a part of my daily physical biorhythm. I should not fight against myself. This is the perfect time for me to be here. I can sit, tap, muse and bitch about life in general. I’ve trained myself enough to clean up and do the dishes though it feels like torture. Now the bread is baking in the oven. I had thought about putting the whole bowl of dough in the oven without dividing into loaves. But my somewhat rational brain said: DON’T! I listened.

Perhaps I should chart my daily energy and mood for a month to see where the peaks and dips occur. I could coordinate activities accordingly. There’s a science to this. Everybody has their opinion. I think I want to do my own research since people’s chemistry vary. I sure don’t feel like going to the gym at 6 pm. Right now, I feel like a nap. It’s 2:17 pm. I’m tapping furiously to stay awake. The bread is still in the oven.

What I know for sure is I feel the best in the morning. After lunch it is all downhill. I have no ambition nor drive after supper. It leaves a very small window for a slow poke like me to get anything done. I want to nap so bad. I wish that bread would hurry up!

HOW I SPEND MY DAYS

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How we spend our days is, of course, how we spend our lives. – Annie Dillard

I wish I could write such insights as Annie Dillard. But then I’m not a Pulitizer winning authour. She has written many books. I wonder why I haven’t read any of them, especially since so many of them are in the library. I’ve just fixed that, reserving The Writing Life. I thought I should start with just one book. I’m still working on James Mitchener’s The Source. It’s an ambitious read of 1000 pages. I’m only on  page 207. I have a ways to go.

How do you spend your days? I’ve wondered what other people do with their time. I’m always busy it seems. I’m a doddler, poking away at life. Maybe if I speed up a little, I wouldn’t feel so busy. But it’s who and how I am. I need that slow pace to digest and process. So I can’t get up in the morning and hop to it. I have to ease my way with a cuppa tea and a few pages of fiction. Then it’s breakfast. If it is Monday, Wednesday,or Friday I’ll be heading out the door to aerobics. Saturday mornings I used to swim. Then somehow I got tired of always heading out of the door and I stopped. But I kept it up most of the winter.

I’m a homebody so I was glad to read that Annie Dillard is a recluse, albeit a gregarious one. I wish I’m like that but alas, I have no gregariousness in me. It should be no surprise that I don’t do a lot of frollicking with my days. I’m a rather quiet, somber person. I live within rather than without. That is, I contemplate alot. I like to read and muse. I wonder about the universe, why people do what they do. I wonder about the speed of the changes we are experiencing. How long life as we know will last? I wonder what gives meaning to the things we do. What does it matter anyways? I could have more time if I could just cut down all this musing.

You see, I am no fun. I do have fun though. I have numerous, maybe too many hobbies. I like to read and write. That gobbles up tons of minutes and hours in a day if I let it. Even painting my little index cards takes up at least half an hour. More if I’m ambitious. I’ve picked up sewing again. I went out and bought a fancy dancy new machine. It’s no small endeavour. It took time to learn all the ins and outs. Then there’s the organizing – fabric, patterns, projects. I’ve taken a fancy to free motion sewing, creating a picture with stitching. I haven’t thought about quilting yet. I have all the notions – collected through the years. At least I don’t have to go out and shop for material. I have a fabric shop right in my own basement.

I’m tapping here in my space. I’ve just turned the oven on for the roast. There’s a lot to do every day. Roasts to put in the oven, bread to make, lunches and dishes to do. The guy does supper and getting groceries. I start my own bedding plants for the garden. Been doing that for years now. Sometimes I enjoy. Sometimes it’s work. Well, isn’t everything? It’s worth it. It’s nourishing my body and soul. Even the cleaning and washing. It’s taking care of this business of living. What meaning or satisfaction would I get not doing any of this? Sure, I complain sometimes and wish that everything was taken care of for me. That sounds like being in a nursing home, doesn’t it?

It’s time to shut up and do something else now. There’s the dog to walk yet.

 

 

 

THOUGHTS, WORDS, MOODS

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I ate all the leftovers brought home last night from the Mandarin Restaurant. Zero waste with one plate and a fork to wash. I enjoyed it but it did not pass my mother’s taste buds. Not enough ingredients. Ingredients not good quality. Not very much meat. These were her pronouncements. I have to admit that I am not very discerning. Like Sheba, I like anything edible. She was right about the meat part – small and covered up with a lot of veggies. It was perfect for me. I’m not over sated from a few chicken pieces and a pile of bok choy.

I’m enjoying my second cup of Orange Pekoe tea for the day. I can feel myself wanting another cup. I will refrain. I will tap a few more words, rise and clear up the few dishes. Then I better get started with the bread. It will interrupt my Orange Pekoe craving and keep the flow of the day going. I’ve discovered that I could get a lot done by spending a little bit of time doing this and that. It also breaks up bouts of grumpiness, surliness and depression.

I don’t want to mislead anyone about my moods. I am certainly grumpy alot of the time, especially when I was working. But I wouldn’t call myself that now. The same goes for the depression. I am one who feels things deeply. I have been told that I have high standards and I hold everyone to them. I still have the same high standards. I’ve let go of the hold though. What anyone else does is no concern of mine. It took awhile for me to see it. Seeing it now, I feel so foolish. Such a busy body I am, judging others. Most of all, such a waste of energy! It took me away from caring for myself.

You see – I can learn. I can talk a new talk and do a new walk. I don’t have to keep going down the same garden path. The dough is poofing in the oven and I’m sitting with my decaf. I am a little pooped from standing, mixing and kneading. I’m happy to sit till the timer calls me to punch the dough down, shape it into loaves and poof again. It was some wonderful quiet time kneading and slapping the dough into a ball. It was like a love affair of some sort. Needless to say, it was very satisfying. Even Sheba was cooperating, not barking her fool head off.

THE SLICE OF MY LABOUR

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I love words. My favourite word used to be copacetic. It still is. I first heard it listening to Tara Brach. It has such a copacetic sound to it. Just one word to describe. I’ve found another word to add to the list – Micromovement. I believe it’s originated by SARK. You can download her little booklet of how to’s on her site. I like to take the micro and apply it to every-thing.

Micro works very well for my dyslexic brain. My mind sees the whole picture but cannot see how each part fits/works. When someone tells me directions to a place or how of anything, I am overwhelmed by it all. I can’t get past the first sentence. The blind is already coming down. Whereas if it is written, I can read one direction at a time and reread if necessary. I can make one micro connection at a time.

This morning I was feeling so overwhelmed by all that I felt I wanted to do. I could not do any of it because somehow I couldn’t break it down step by step. The most wanted thing was transplanting my tomato seedlings. They are getting very lanky. They are still waiting for me. I baked bread instead. It’s a much bigger task but I have done it regularly for a number of years. The steps are almost embedded in my being. It was no struggle at all. It was a very fluid thing and I am now enjoying the slice of my labour. I will attend to the seedlings after I’m finished.

So, now supper is over and done with. I am ready to cuddle up to the TV. I did transplant my Big Beef Tomatoes. It took 10 minutes for 10 seedlings, a minute per plant – one micro-movement. Now I have to micro-move myself to a micro shower.

 

WET NOODLE DAYS

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Moments by their definition are fleeting. So I am not disappointed, disillusioned or any other dis words at all that my moments of perfect alignment are over. Most happy of all that I am not diseased as being downed by the flu bug. I hear it’s a bad strain this year. It lingers and lingers. I’m feeling slow but not ‘bad’ that I am a wet noodle again. I can still noodle on. I’m more of a tortoise than the hare by nature anyways. I will get there, wherever there is, eventually.

 

As it is, the day turned out well. It was cold as hell to start with. Such days are good for simmering soup on the stove. It humifies the air and soothes my irritated sinuses. The soup is nourishing and healing. The bones are treats for Sheba. She is kept busy gnawing and cleaning her teeth at the same time. It’s a good time to bake bread, too, especially since we’re down to the last loaf. Fresh bread with butter and jam is delicious. You guess it. I am still snacking. It boosts my serotonin level. I’m not feeling as much of a wet noodle after. The house is warmer from the baking. Now the pork roast in the oven is adding aroma and more heat to the air. This is how to raise the temperature and feel good stuff in cold February.

I think winter is meant for slowing down, nesting and mending ‘stuff’ and ourselves. It’s a good idea to heed Nature. When spring comes, we will be well prepared. I really like that idea. It will stop my incessant need for doing and feeling guilty for not accomplishing. It will be a challenge for me. I’ve already signed up for the online Peak Work Performance Summit. I am not working any more but it is free. What does it hurt to sign up, I ask myself. I’m not committed to watch. But just in case. The title words by themselves – peak performance -are enticing to me. I’m easily hooked. They can perk the wet noodle in me. That’s not bad, is it?

I’m aware now. I will intend more mending on wet noodle days. I have another jacket that needs a new zipper. The old one is removed. Now I can baste the new one on first before sewing it on. The coat is purple so I need to change the black thread that’s on the Bernina now. My eyes glaze over at the thought because the machine is very new and unfamiliar to me. I will have to change the bobbin thread, too. Now my eyes are crossing over. I will have to review the whole procedure again. Very heavy sigh. It has to/will be done. It doesn’t have to be today. I’m thinking of ‘slowing down, nesting and mending.

 

 

THERE ARE NO FAILURES – Day 271 in a year of…

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Day 271 – April 25, 2017 @9:28 am

I’ve learned recently that there are no failures in life. You get different results. Sometimes they are better than the intended and the longed for ones. We are so blindsided with wants, goals and dreams. Sometimes we cannot see a good thing even when it slaps us in the face.

I like to think that each day is perfect unto itself – no matter sunshine or clouds. We need sun to grow and thrive but we also need the clouds with its rain. I’m learning to welcome each day as is. There’s always a light through the darkness. Every cloud has a silver lining. Being the human that I am, there are and will be days that I will cry and fight against it. That’s okay. That is my nature. It will pass and I will be tranquil once more. I will take up the word and continue to tap, tap,tap here. I want to bring light and hope with them. I want to urge you on to make your world just a little better each day.

I’m baking bread this morning – back to 6 loaves again. Making good use of the oven. I’ve never failed. Well, one time my dough never rose at all. I think I killed the yeast with too hot a water. Sheba had lovely doggy biscuits forever and a day. I made pita bread with it and was nice and crispy. It made for wonderful pizza crusts, too. So you see, ‘failure’ has its reward.

LIGHT AND SHADOWS

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IMG_2965Saturday, the sun comes and goes – light and shadows all day long.  This is how life is.  I elate with the sun.  I shiver with the darkness.  This is how I am.  I write to dispel the darkness and usher in the light. We need the light to see our shadows.  We need to acknowledge our dark side to know ourselves.  Otherwise, we have no dimensions.

IMG_2919Saturday is a good day to bake bread – to see the dough rising, spilling over the edge not quite like the sunrise spilling its light over the earth.  It delights me nonetheless. I love sinking my hands into the doughy mass, feeling its softness and springiness. This is how I would like to be – soft and resilient.  Though I may stumble and fall in the dark, I can rise again to meet another day.

 

A WINTER’S DAY

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IMG_2213I am finished playing with my Roomba for today.  The floors are relatively clean but robots are still not as efficient as a human being.  Aren’t you glad?  We are not dispensable after all.  Granted, it is my first day with my little friend so I am not proficient or efficient with it.  It is a little time consuming getting acquainted with its parts, learning to operate it and cleaning it. I am liking it even though it left some of Sheba’s hair here and there.  We will be better tomorrow.

At long last I am able to sit here, sip my tea and tap out some words.  I am pooped! It’s been a long and cold day.  It has made walking Sheba an arduous task, fighting the biting wind and trudging on the hard-packed snow.  I’m feeling exhausted from hunching my shoulders so much.   I will have to hit the swimming pool tomorrow.  The warm water helps to relax my neck and shoulder muscles.

Supper is done, the dishes, pots and pans washed and put away.  The bread is still cooling on the rack.  I have made my usual 6 loaves.  No wonder I am tired!  Yesterday, I baked 3 dozen cookies and a dozen muffins – late Christmas offerings.  I think I’m done with the baking for awhile.  It’s the cleaning up that gets me.  By next week I will have forgotten about it, and be ready to start all over again.  There’s something about a winter’s day, kneading dough and the smell of baking bread.  It soothes and nourishes me.  It makes me feel content.  What works for you?

SUNSHINE, RAIN AND LEMONADE

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I’m moving slowly and heavily through the day.  The weather is playing havoc with my body and my mind.  I am familiar with this game so I know the moves well.  First one foot, then the other and so on.  I am moving slowly but still making progress.

It rained all day yesterday.  But it was one of those comforting days you felt cocooned in the house and what you were doing.  The sound of rain falling was a soothing backdrop. It surrounded me with its music.

IMG_4891Today started off well enough with the sun lighting up my office in the early hours.  Oh, nice!  I breathed, ready for the day.  I went to put the tea kettle on.  By the time I came back, it had clouded over.  And so it stayed for the morning.

You have to play the hand day you’re dealt. This is where routines and rituals came to my aide.  They help push me through the day.  So I hurt and my head is all fogged up.  I’m not scheduled to do brain surgery today.  I have paid all my bills online yesterday.  Whew!  But I still need to eat.

I’ve been baking bread using the same recipe for the four years.  I know it by heart.  On a day like today, I decide to check it just to be safe. Better be sure then sorry that I goofed on the salt or the yeast.  Nothing worse than six loaves of salty and/or leaden bread staring at you, fresh from the oven.

Even then, I still thought as I went along.  Was that number 5 or 6 cups of flour?  How much honey did I put in just now?  I had to put a stop to my defective thoughts.  I needed to trust myself, no matter how uncertain I felt.  It was like running back to see if you had locked the door time after time.  Enough was enough!

IMG_1012It all went well.  There was a flow in the measuring, stirring and mixing. Kneading the dough soothed and cooled my aching hand and fingers.  It took my mind off the fog in my head.  No mishaps of too much/too little of ingredients.  Six loaves came out browned and wholesome.

In the meantime, the weather waxed and waned.  Clouds and rain followed by sunshine, followed by clouds and rain again.  In between Sheba and I managed to get our walk in.

You have to make hay while the sun shines and if you’re handed lemons, make that lemonade.  I like mine a bit on the sweet side, if you don’t mind.

 

PRACTISING THE IMPERFECT

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IMG_5106

It is the 20th of March and 36 days into Lent.  It is another day.  I am trying to find my zen.  I am tired from a rem-less sleep.  It is where I am, heavy and loaded down.  This is where I will start.

The fact is, we are down to one loaf of bread and there are no makings for sandwiches for lunch.  The utensils, flour, yeast come out.  And while the dough is rising, I steal one of Sheba’s bones for making soup.  The pot goes on the stove, the bone and water goes on to boil.  In the meantime, I find, wash and chop the vegetables.  The bone comes out, the vegetables go in.

The dough is ready.  I punch it down and divide into three loaves to rise again.  The soup bone is cooled, so out the door it goes with Sheba.  She is out of my hair, gnawing happily for some minutes.  I have some free time to relax with my second cup of tea.  I have an urge to make biscuits to go with the soup but axed it along with the urge to vacuum.  Better to just chill.

The timer is beeping that the loaves are ready for the oven.  I will put them in and then enjoy the warmth and brightness of the sun.  I will catnap with Sheba while the bread bake.  This imperfect life is just purrr-fect.