Bye-bye Blog

Dear Minka, Theresa, Quilly and Wanda, I love you ladies and have enjoyed our chit-chats. I'm leaving Blogsville. Thank you for making me feel welcome. I wish happy days ahead for you all. Most of my hobbies seem to last four or five months and then I go on to something else. I really feel those stained glass side lights, for the front door, are calling me. It's a six month project, so I'll maybe get 5/6th of them done before I quit that (kidding).

To everyone who dropped by , "Thanks". Bye-bye.............Judy

OOps!

Oops!.......I forgot something at the end of the last post........................................................
:) :-) :) :-) :) :-) :) :-) :) :-)

DON'T FORGET TO................

This is not a time of life when I thought I'd still be learning new things. I imagine, it's because I have forgotten so much, that I now have room for more. Sure, it's a cliche. But, when it hits you between the eyes, (ya, the frontal lobe area) that a lot of new info is being packed into your brain..........aren't you going to ask yourself, "How does all that fit in there?"? Of course something had to come out to make room for new stuff. You don't become aware of this knowledge until the second download. That occurs sometime after 55 or 60 years of age.


From the outside, other people see just the old stuff being forgotten. Well, they're not alone. I also wondered how that half eaten slice of bread (slathered in butter) got between the folded towels in the linen closet. And it's still a mystery to me how my six year old great-nephew was sent the e-mail telling what I bought him for his birthday, and, his Mom, my niece got the e-mail asking HIM what he would like for a gift. But, that turned out O.K. His Mom said she will take the theatre tickets and I can get him a diamond ring. Oh, they'll work it out in the end......If my brother and sister-in-law get an anniversary card on his birthday, and a birthday card goes to their son on their anniversary, it's fine. Two special occasions and two cards. Perfect!


I don't really mind forgetting where household things belong. It's often a nice little surprise to find a bag of marshmellows already melted, in the oven, when I just decided to make crispy squares. But, I was really snarked when the popsicles were there too.


There are some things we should, with G-G-Garfield's grace, never forget. Our elderly neighbour was standing outside talking to his own son and my Hubby. He looked at my husband and asked, "Whose your friend?" Now that's just rude! And did you ever wonder why Gramma keeps all those photos on the fridge? They're put there for identification purposes. I'll check the neighbours fridge, if I don't forget. Maybe they have mixed up the pictures.


The best part is......................................is................................uh.......
.........is you forget the dumb stuff and replaced it with BLOGGING names. The next best thing is, the youngsters (thirty and forty- somethings) don't know it's coming, ha-ha-ha, so we are one up on the kids. It actually IS possible that we have forgotten more than they have ever learned. Makes us REALLY feel that wisedom has come with age. There's lots more to be written on this subject and when I remember it, I'll pass it on to you.

IS BREAD MAKING AN ART, A TALENT, OR JUST DUMB LUCK?

A few years ago, my wonderful parents bought me a bread making machine. Years before that, I made bread many times from scratch just for the joy of it and for that wholesome yeasty smell that comes with homemade bread. I slowed down to a stop when I forgot to add the melted butter one time, and attempted to add it at the end. The dough was formed and I was trying to squeeze liquid grease into a glue ball. When I threw the whole batch into the garbage, I looked like the Michelin Lady with white walls. (Recently that was brought to mind by Theresa's Therm-m-m-mo-what's-it. I bet she looks better and isn't covered in white goo when that superlicious cheesecake is finished.) Time to get that bread machine out of the "hardly ever use it" cupboard. It's only been two years; I should have put it in the "use occasionally" cupboard.





Bend. . . .pull. . . .bend some more. . . . twist. . . .I didn't realize I was so far out of shape, that getting an appliance from the back of a bottom cabinet would be a work-out. Guess I should put my "hardly ever use it" cupboard in a more convenient spot. I might want to use that food processor paraphernalia in there some time.



Wouldn't you think the recipe book for the machine would be either with the recipe books or with the bread machine? After the last bread making fiasco, I was probably feeling a little frazzled and illogical. What do you think of when you can't find a recipe? Of course, Martha Stewart and computer. Well, I found out Martha doesn't have a recipe for EVERYTHING. What was I thinking? Using a bread maker would be like opening a can of spaghetti-o's for dinner, to Martha.....a definite, "No-no." I'm sure she doesn't even own a can opener.



I was on the fifteenth page of "Every Recipe in the Civilized World" website when I found ONE I could use in my West Bend machine. Sure sounded familiar. It was a, "Go." Measure accurately it warned. Do they think home co-ordinators are idiots? I know how to measure. A warm and fuzzy feeling came over me as I placed all ingredients into the pan and lowered and locked it into position in the machine. It would be ready in 3 hours and 10 minutes. I had clothes to fold, blah-blah-blah, and a draft for a future blog to write............................Two and a half hours later, Hubby says, "Is the dough supposed to be touching the window at the top of the machine?" "Oh, yes! It puffs up beautifully because of the yeast." says the Master Bread Maker. "Is it supposed to be smashed up against the window and forcing the door to open?" OMG! It looked like a small mushroom cloud had formed after a dough bomb had exploded. The mixture had risen over the pan edges and continued up and up some more until it looked like a giant's nose smushed (yes, smushed...flattened...SMUSHED) against a window pane. A very pale giant's nose. After a flurry of pot holders, knives, wooden spoons and burned fingers, the (to be kind) "loaf" lay on the counter. But, not undamaged, because it had taken over five minutes of cutting, scrapping and man-handling to force it out of the hot, very hot pan. After hacking off the top gluey one-third, the baked two-thirds at the bottom looked, well, not like something you'd buy at the bakery, but of a quality more akin to what a six year old would do in an Easy Bake Oven. (but, not as good)

Hubby and I checked the settings on the contraption, reread the recipe obtained on the website and started the search again for the manual/recipe book. It was in the third most logical place to look..........on the baking ingredients shelf, hidden behind the all purpose flour, the only book on the shelf. Thank goodness. I was all set to pay $12. for a new one that, in the mean time, I had found on eBay. We would have had to wait another week or two to savour the warm, soft texture and aroma of homemade manna. After comparing amounts of ingredients, he found the culprit was..... the yeast. Apparently, the two TABLESPOONS listed in the web recipe made a "giant" difference compared to the two TEASPOONS written in the original recipe book. We'll vouch for that! "Let's try this again." said Hubby. This time, we'll measure accurately, (if the recipe is accurate) as the web recipe said.

M-m-m. Warm.....delicious, lathered with sweet butter.....fragrance still lingering in the air. What a great midnight snack!

There is the obvious moral, "Don't believe everything you read." There's another, "It's more fun to do things with a friend." (and things taste better, too.) Thanks, Hubby.

HE'S BACK. LET'S GO SEE WHAT HE HAS TO SAY.

Now that Morgan is back in Amsterdam, I can fully relax. I'm sure these tense muscles, that have pulled my shoulders up to my ears, can be taken care of with a soothing massage. My voice, which has reached a whole octave higher than it was, will need voice therapy the doctor says and this itching rash will likely disappear with the cream he has given me. I hope I haven't pissed off too many people with my short temper over the last two weeks. Thank God that lady I clobbered in the doctor's office is not going to press charges. Hubby has been very understanding. He's going to rip up the papers he brought from the lawyer's office, as long as I never mention these last two weeks again. Now that Morgan is back in Amsterdam, I can fully relax. It's a Mother-thing.
............................Judy