Wednesday, August 18, 2010

Where DOES the time go?

Here it is August 2010 and my first posting from 2010...where does the time go???

Well, lets start off with a bit of time travel....back in November 2009, I was told that my department would be done away with in the reorganization of the company that I work for. Since that time, we have been transitioning for the reorganization and in essence....and and my co-buds have not had jobs since the end of May and have been going through the process of letting go and moving on.

It's been a great ride with this company, I wish I could disclose it and sing it's praises but I can't. Even down to the wire of "Buh Bye" they have handled themselves and the employees facing major life changes brought about by job and career changes with the utmost respect. I love this company! I hate to say good bye.

And so......Where does the time go?? On the one hand I was so glad to see that my job was coming to an end. The road had come to own me....there's so many dreams....I've yet to find. I would not have had the courage to make the decision myself to say "enough". I would come home on a Friday elated to be home and walk in the door to find...."what am I here for? It's just me, no social life and......I could pack for my next trip..."

As fate would have it my home in Louisiana did not sell when I took this job...Gustave did a handy job of planting a rather large pine tree through my roof, kinda hard to sell a house like that even to a tree hugger. With the house repaired, I rented it out and my renters lease was coming to and end the end of June....and my house in Houston I was renting and my landlord and his family were moving back from Africa and Brazil.....the next step was a no brainer....I went Home.....let the good times roll!

I have missed Louisiana! With all the travels I have made around the world, there truly is no place like Louisiana. And so comes the end of this Blog....I am going to get a dog. A border Collie....something that herds and can sense when I am about to break free of the roots that I have no idea how to put down and herd me back into my space, my mini forest in Louisiana. thick with humidity, thick with culture, thick with soft flowing Spanish moss and slow moving deep dark water. The house needs much attention, as do I and due to the wonderful severance package that this I-wish-I could-publish-the-name-of-this-great-company, I will have the time to give attention to both the house and make it a home and me and find a slower softer road.

Please follow my new blog Providence.

Safe travels and happy roads! Remember, on the road of's the sweet stuff that will kill you!

Friday, December 11, 2009

And now you know......

Reading between the lines.....

So I was asked why "The Diabetic Road Warror"'s not that I am afflicted...but I's more like it's the sweet stuff that will kill you on the road of life, it always does. And now you know, and how sweet it is and how sweet it has been, even the....rocky road!

The Price You Pay for The World's Best Peach Cobbler

All is not as it seems......
This is my grandmother, Ima Lee. You probably see an old woman. She is, she's a beautiful 92.
It was a rough day for her, she had just returned from the hospital after breaking her hip so she's a tad drugged here, but that's not the point. Ya see, all is not as it seems. What is here is the most gentle woman I have ever known. She taught my mom how to love. I smell the worlds best peach cobbler in her presence. I feel the softness of her hand on my head when she was about to tell me something that needed immediate attention like "would you like another cookie?" or "would you like some ice cream with that hot peach cobbler?"I hear angels in her voice when she read me a story. I feel the warmth of her in the binding of the book that she gives me when she is finished reading and is going to let me read the rest for myself.
There is a history lost in her head due to Alzheimer's that makes it's way out in the faintest of voice as she speaks to the family members that have passed on before her. She remembers me as my mother and I am enriched as I could not imagine filling my mothers shoes and she recognizes my attempts at love and care as coming from my mother. I become aware of my mothers presence in the room and realize my mother, now departed, lives on in me in my grandmother's eyes. Is she seeing her in me or is she seeing her in a way that I can't due to her illness? It doesn't matter. I am with her and this is the price I pay for the world's best peach cobbler.
She lives in a nursing home. Her condition is beyond any one human to be able to care for her. And she's a slinky! Able to leap hospital bed safety rails, which is how she broke her hip. Able to scoot out doors left unattended, which is how she got out of the nursing home with 4 of her house mates until the neighbors called to tell the nursing home that they had some escapees. They made it outside but didn't have a clue as to what to do next so they just were there, in the sun, digging the outside.
I always thought nursing homes were for the unloved until I got over myself and spent some time there with her. (she could not spend time with me as she kinda lives in another world) but there I was, watching her, caring for her and listening to the noise in what was now her home.
There is the man that counts and gets stuck on 28 28 28 28 28 28 28 28.....turns out, numbers were an important part in his life, he used to lay railroad track and they had to count to keep in unison, then he became an auctioneer. Numbers are close and dear to him, they paid for his family and his life...26 27 28 28 28 28....he hangs on to them like a lover.
There is the woman in her 50's that will sing for you if you take her out for a cigarette and she begins to belt out a sentence and she must drink her water and lubricate her voice, again she belts out a sentence and she must drink her water and lubricate her voice, and yet again, she belts out a tune of one sentence. Not a particularly good singer but she truly belts it out, she gives all she's got, every bit of it till she is drained and must fill her cup so she can give you more.
There is the attendant that made some tough choices in life and sees this place as her salvation, her hope, her way to care for her young son.
There are crudely made decorations hanging overhead, art work from the day's activities. There is the scent of home cooking coming from the kitchen and one of the wisest women stirring a pot of love that will be Ima Lee's meal. And it's magic food, it heals her wounds and her soul. This is her home. Even if I could be independently wealthy and take her home with me, this is my grandmothers home, where she feels normal, where she feels loved and accepted. In my world she would be different, there would be no attendant that she could save and give hope to. Here, in the sponge painted walls and noise of 30 TV's on different channels turned up too loud to drown out the others, my grandmother is home.
Home is where the heart is and her heart is here and I have been enlightened to her now family, even though I am inside, even though I am family, I am on the outside and a grateful guest and I hope I live to be 92 and put in a nursing home with someone that sings and someone that can count. All is not as it seems, sometimes it's far better, far more beautiful than you could think.

Monday, June 22, 2009

Hold the parsley please!

A Taste of Nostalgia.......

I returned to Houston from a very hot, very short trip to Las Vegas to find that in my absence, it didn't rain and my plants didn't get the water from the automatic sprinkler system. My lemon had curled leaves, the ficus had leaves turning yellow, the rosemary was naturally dried, and the rest of my herbs, how sad.... the basil just limp and wilted, the thyme was out of time, parsley? What is up with the parsley? I watered my plants and took in the wonderful Houston humidity then, as quick as I could I escaped the wonderful Houston humidity inside in the air conditioning. As the day wore on and the temperature cooled off I went back out to check to see what could be salvaged. The basil was strong and fragrant, the thyme found it's second wind, the citrus, bright and shiny but the parsley? What is up with the parsley? I took a closer look and someone has been eating my parsley.....

My mind went back to distant summers. Catching lightening bugs with my Sun. Bedtime stories finished with the lights out and the two of us on his bunk bed mesmerized by the tiny lights in his bug bottle.

Back then, my plants were worthy of mentioning, even stealing, as I found out when while I was home, someone came into my courtyard and stole my geranium that was 3 feet across and had 15 massive blooms. I have to admit, it was enviable. My balcony dripped with blooms from flower boxes, tended with patience and peace. But my parsley...What was up with my parsley??

One humid evening my Sun was in the courtyard catching geckos when he began to take a closer look at my parsley. He emptied out his bug bottle full of geckos and came running in the house excited by his new find. We broke out the encyclopedia and began to peruse the pages, looking for pictures to match his new find. As I am thumbing the pages, he is letting the caterpillar climb back and forth on a twig and a parsley stem. In the process, he pokes the critter with the twig and the caterpillar quickly stopped and erected two bright yellow feathery antennea and emitted a strong scent, the scent of ground parsley. Back before the Internet, encyclopedias didn't have picture for every caterpillar. We decide to make this a nameless pet and see if we can watch it become a butterfly. For weeks it dined on only the best organic parsley (by this time I had to buy it at the store because the nameless one had an appetite that rivaled a 13 year old athlete in the midst of a growing spurt) And then one day...then one day when we thought all was well, it just stopped eating. I could see a disappointment brewing. It climbed to a high spot on the twig placed in the bottle and it just sat. It sat and occasionally wiggled. It threw it's head around as if in agony and it began to lose it's vibrant colors, then it's legs and we were sure, our nameless pet was seemed to catch it's second wind. hanging by it's back feet (or what was left of them) it hung and wriggled, it twitched, it convulsed with rhythm and we noticed the very fine shimmer of silk as it spun it's chrysalis. The world became small and large all at once. We watched patiently for hours with Oreos and milk until it moved no more and resembled nothing we once knew. And was still......

Days passed as well as most of our interest. the bug bottle sat on the coffee table and was, as most items on coffee tables are, a conversation piece. at one point the conversation was what should we do with it? Is it dead? How long does it take for a butterfly to emerge? What stages in life are like this for humans? Do we give up? And then we noticed a change in the chrysalis, a twitch here, a lightening there, the once plump oval, now finer, thinner in shape. Our interest was renewed and more Oreos were called for. We watched patiently as the nameless one began to emerge. With a twitch, a squeeze, a turn and a long stretch, out, slowly, out emerged what appeared to be a wet wasp. No way! No Way! I knew the life cycle of bugs and this was not a step in waspness and worse yet, before I could say another word, the dangerous wasp-thing was now on my Sun's young fingers.

I never knew that boy could have such patience. He sat for hours as the butterfly slowly unfurled it wings and dried and hardened them. It was magic, shear magic as we sat, talked about letting go, changes, life and there, before we knew it, it flew and was gone. One of those moments that I hope plays in slow motion when my life passes before my eyes, my boy and the butterfly.

For the next 6 years we managed to get parsley plants in the spring that had the presence of these critters. We eventually found out that they were Swallowtail butterflies. Nothing more beautiful that I can recall, other than his hands around the bug bottle when he first discovered them.

So there I was in the Houston Humidity. My Sun in the desert of Nevada and we were connected by the silk of a memory as I called to tell him, after years of the absence of the nameless ones, here they were again. I had two. Just a little parsley left. I dug through the cabinets to find a large vase. I captured the creatures and set out to find a child for them. I approached the mother on the corner, she looked at me like I was dangerous and the bottle of parsley was poison. I approached the mother next door and got a quick "no thank you, we're allergic", when I heard the shrill scream of a little girl voice across the street. Before I knew it, I was at the door knocking. Little eyes peering through the blinds and finally the door cautiously opened as the mom stood there. I explained I was desperate and I needed children.....ok, not the right thing to say. I explained I needed butterfly hatchers, I heard her daughters were just the right size to hatch a couple of butterflies. OK, now if my neighbors thought I was odd before (loner, gone often, shades drawn etc...) now I had convinced them it was true. The mom looked down protectively at her daughters and melted with the sized of their eyes. They did the butterfly delight dance as if they had waited their entire lives for this very moment and Summer, True Summer, with exploration and adventure had just arrived in a bottle. I found a home for the nameless ones......and my parsley will now survive.

What a wonderful way to start the summer. I called my Sun and we were lost in the wings of a butterfly once again.

Hold my parsley please, it's very close to my heart

Saturday, May 30, 2009

Out on a Ledge........

Sometimes it pays to break the rules!.....and then again, sometimes it doesn't.....

This past 2 weeks I spent in Utah and Northern Nevada respectively. It was an interesting road trip filled with the unexpected. First, a REAL date with a REAL gentleman that actually got out of the car to come open my car door. (I have a soft spot for men whose mothers taught them right). Next after the class I was teaching was over, came a small road trip to the Bonneville Salt Flats to get my co-worker Steven to unwind. At the Salt Flats I did my first ever do-nuts! (I didn't know that you aren't suppose to put on the break and never take your foot off the gas when encountering mud....we did get out).

Next I was in Reno. I picked up my rental car and headed for Winnemucca for a long weekend with my Sun and his family. They are getting married June 2010. Jenny's mom came in for the long weekend and it was our mission to take Jenny wedding dress shopping. Winnemucca is a 2 1/2 hour drive from Reno. About 20 miles out from Reno a car pulls up along side me and begins honking and pointing down. I'm not so sure here but I think 2 things. One! He is making a lewd gesture and suggestion as we are passing the infamous Mustang Ranch. and Two! there is something wrong with my car. I travel a ways till I see a couple of cars pulled off to the side of the road with occupants sunning themselves on rocks down at the what I think is the Truckee river. I get out and inspect my car and nothing is wrong with it so I head on to Winnemucca and I go out on a limb and figure the man's gesture was a lewd invitation.

About 10 minutes on the road, yet another car is pulling alongside and honking, this time, if it's lewd, it's REALLY kinky cause it's a family van equipped with a family and a dog and they are making the same gesture. but you never know, this IS Nevada and I am not yet familiar with the customs. I stop at the side of the road and inspect the car and find nothing wrong with it. By this time I have, however noticed that the roads are smooth and the car has a shimmy and likes to pull to the right. I figure there is something happening but there is no evidence of bad tires or broken tie rods, nothing hanging from the undercarriage and I have not run over anyone. I head on to the nest town of Lovelock, where everything is closed and continue on to Winnemucca.

The state of Nevada is bigger than you think and the towns are farer and smaller than you think, this isn't a bad thing, it is what it is. Nevada was a surprising green and it was a lovely drive except for the road noise of the cars honking and the tendency for my car to pull to the right. I figure Winnemucca will have a place that can look at the condition of my rental. when I get to Winnemucca, all the garages are closed for the Memorial weekend. I go out on a limb and figure I can have the car looked at on Tuesday morning, in the meantime, I have fun to have shopping for wedding dresses and swimming with The President and getting to know Jenny's mother Wanda.

As Luck would have it Winnemucca was hosting Run-A-Mucca, the Burning Bike Motorcycle Rally. So after a day of wedding dress shopping with Jenny and her mom and breaking my diabetic do-well diet with a regular size piece of chocolate birthday cake complete with low carb ice cream (I was bad but not That bad) my blood sugar soars and we decide to go for a walk downtown to see what the Run-A-Mucca is all about. Bikes everywhere, leather everywhere, stuff to buy everywhere. We happen on a drag-a-shack that houses a tattoo and piercing business. I have been wanting a tattoo so we look through the books, discuss the placements and I go out on a limb and get one. I haven't put it on yet but I have one.

Tuesday comes and I take the car into the local tire place. They remove the right front tire and find the wheel is bent. All those honking people are just so nice now. Waaay bent. I call Avis and they can't get a car to me for 2 days and my next stop in Elko doesn't have cars available. Les Schwab (I so recommend this place!) puts the spare on the car, explain it will be safe at speeds under 65 and I head off back to Reno. About 15 minutes outside of Winnemucca the light for the tire pressure comes on. I pull to the side of the road where Avis assures me that the light is on due to the difference in tire pressures and my donut on steroids is good for 3K miles, but they have no idea how many miles are currently on that donut.....donuts........? Could this be my Karma for taking my last rental out on the Bonneville Salt Flats and doing donuts? I washed the last rental before returning it. It was only 2 donuts before I scared myself by almost getting stuck. I head back to Reno cautiously slow and am eased by the fact that the road is so much smoother going back, the car likes to stay on the road and no one is honking anymore.

Avis is great. I have rented about 40 cars in the last year from them and this was the first time I had a problem. I have no complaints. But now, I can't make 2 of my appointments in Ely and Elko and realize I will have to fly back into Reno at a later date to take care of these accounts. I rearrange my schedule and head to Carson City, my next stop but I am a day early. I try to change the dates on my inspections but the accounts can't accommodate me. I check into my hotel a day early, pick up my freebies from the front desk to play in the casino and head to my room.

Last year I stayed in 98 different hotel rooms. Keeping track of where I am and what room I'm in is a task. You wouldn't think it would be but it is. I have taken to immediately putting the "Do Not Disturb" sign out upon entering my room so that I can find it if I leave my room later. My inspection schedule is shot so I decide to return phone calls and e-mails. I have the phone in my hand, speaking to my surviving brother when I spot a sign on the glass of the balcony door that reads "Keep door shut at all times to prevent pigeons from flying into room". Sounds reasonable. The balcony is about 2 1/2 feet deep and overlooks and interesting part of Carson City. I walk out on it while talking to my brother and I follow the instructions and close the door (after all, I was not raised in a barn), in the course of the conversation, I have to go back in......and I find it's a self locking door. I am locked outside, on.....I think it's the third floor....but I don't remember what room I'm in and thank God! the sign is right there or I wouldn't even know what hotel I was in. I end the conversation with my brother who is now dying of laughter and google the hotel to find the phone number, call the desk and ask them to send security to open the door. Dead silence. The rest goes like this....

Desk Clerk..Are you going to jump?

Me...No I just want someone to open the door so I can get back in my room.

Desk Clerk...(giggle)Do you have some ID?

Me...Yes, but it's in the room

Desk Clerk....(giggle) I'm sorry ma'am, but we can't open the door if you don't have ID with you. What room are you staying in?

Me....Dead silence.....I don't know. I'm going to out on a ledge and say it's somewhere on the third floor

Desk clerk....(robust laughter) I'm sorry ma'am but we can't just open a door to all the rooms to find you.

Me....May I suggest you walk to the parking lot and watch me wave? I think, I'm pretty sure I am on the third floor, you can find out what room I'm in by my name and I put a Do Not Disturb sign on the door, feel free to disturb me, really.

Desk clerk...(snorting laughter) Name please? Security will be there in a few minutes....(Stifled laughter and chuckles) I'm suppose to ask you if you are safe and do you intend to jump. And I need to tell you that this has never happened, and I apologize if I don't seem professional and I hope you think it's funny.

Me....Of course it's funny! But for $10 of free play in the Casino I out on a ledge and any lack of professionalism....(there is a knock on the glass and security is opening the door) "click"......

Now what does this have to do with diabetes and Salt Lake City?......Let me go out.....on a ledge...and tell you. As I disembarked the plane in Salt Lake City I passed a kiosk for Rocky Mountain chocolates. Immediately the voices in my head started screaming "EAT THE CHOCOLATE!!!!!!!!" I tried to ignore the voices because I had just sat for hours and was looking at another couple of hours of sitting in the car to go to Wendover Utah for an inspection but alas the voices won over and I looked...feasted my eyes on the forbidden chocolate and to my surprise, there was a whole counter of wonderful SUGAR FREE CHOCOLATE!! I had a couple pieces and went on my way and found no adverse effects to my blood sugar. Woo Hoo!! I like this! On the way to Carson City I spy the Chocolate Nugget, a whole building devoted to the yummy creamy concoction and I figure if Rocky Mountain can make sugar free chocolates, The Chocolate Nugget can too. I think I'll stop and see if they have diabetic chocolate. AND THEY DID! Not only did they have diabetic chocolate (the caramels are unbelievable) but they have the best salt water taffy in every flavor you can imagine and I buy $10 worth. (relax, it was a little pricey and you pay for it in more ways than one).

So now I know it's not going to effect my blood sugar my inner censor goes on vacation and plans to win big in the Casino and pay for Jenny's wedding dress. I try ALL the flavors, one right after the other and make disgusting moans and groans as my sweet tooth is safely satisfied, I think I bought 8 different flavors, its all a blur now after the traumatic locking myself out on a ledge incident.......which brings me back to the case you didn't know it, diabetic sweets are not made with sugar but instead sugar alcohols. I'm not sure what this would do to an alcoholic and I don't think it raises your alcohol blood level but I must check this out at some other time, hopefully not on the company clock......but it does have effect on your digestive system. It seems that if it goes through your system quickly, and I do stress won't show up on your prick test on the glucometer....And there I was...Out on a Ledge.....Thought I was gonna die!!

Friday, May 8, 2009

Sometimes the best things are worth repeating!

Happy Mother's Day Mom! Orange Marmalade!

When my dad was stationed on the USS Observation Island we lived in Satellite Beach Florida. Truly one of the best times of my life. We lived a mere 2 blocks from the beach and at the age of 10 there was not a day that went by that my oldest brother Bill and I weren't down at the beach. To this day, I have not been able to find the freedom of those days. And what is so funny is that my mother could not swim but would not hold us back from our adventures, misadventures and explorations. Come to think of it, she didn't let it stop her either. I think it's funny, brave and very giving of her as I recall our afternoon fishing trips on the canals. She couldn't swim and yet there she was many an afternoon with 4 children on the canal bridges. Biggest trout I ever caught was with a string bean. She didn't know a thing about fishing but she taught me so much about it. How does that happen? She had a lot of those tricks. She also didn't bake (except from a box) and yet when I tried my hand a baking years later she had magical ingredients like cream of tartar...and she didn't bake.

My mom had a lot of magic to her. Just raising 4 kids, mostly on her own as my father played Water Hero with the Navy was magic. But the magic I remember the most today was Mother's day. One Mother's day in Florida, I scraped up enough pop bottles and turned them in for what I thought was the Ultimate Mother's day present....Breakfast in bed! There was a bakery down by the beach and they made whimsical breads, one was an alligator. At 10 I thought this was the bees knees and wanted to share this with my Mom. I bought the bread and being in Florida, Orange marmalade was plentiful and cheap if you bought it at the commissary. Mother's day came and the alligator bread and the orange marmalade was the breakfast menu..with Tang to wash it down, we were, after all in the Space Center and Tang was the latest and greatest. Truth is, I remember the bread was horrible, cute but horrible. The orange marmalade, nothing special, nothing remarkable and the Tang, was just Tang. I remember thinking that it just wasn't much of anything to celebrate her day with. And she, being the magic that she was, made such a big deal over the orange marmalade that for years afterward, I made sure that every Mother's day also had orange marmalade.

Years later, when I made her angry just trying to learn how to live in the world, I could always smooth things over with an apology and a small jar of orange marmalade. For decades, when I sent her flowers, I never signed the card with who I was I always put 2 words...Orange Marmalade. The florist in her small retirement town remembered this odd habit when she made up the spray form my mother's casket and had the card signed Orange Marmalade. Mom died last year on Mother's Day. It was a beautiful day, bright, breezy, and we had had our Mother's day Orange Marmalade. I just don't have the words to describe how and how much I miss her, she truly was my best friend.

So here is the recipe for the Orange Marmalade that I made for her on our last Mother's day on this earth. Be brave, it is really very good, and not just because she said it was, it really was.

Carrot Orange Marmalade

1 Orange
Juice from that orange
2 lemons
Juice from those lemons
2 1/2 cups carrots

Squeeze the orange and lemons like a bear hug from your mother. Set the juice aside.

Sliver the orange and lemon rinds. Cook rinds in just enough water to cover until they are as tender as the touch of your mother's hand.

Grate carrots and add to the rinds. Cook till as tender as a kiss from your mother.

Add juice.

Remove from heat when tender.

Measure mixture and add equal parts water. For every cup of water/fruit mixture add 2/3 cup of sugar.

Return to heat. Bring to boil stirring constantly.Cook about 1 hour till syrup reaches jelly stage. (to find out if it's jelly stage, stick a plate in the freezer and every once in a while drop a bit of the syrup onto the cold plate, put in the freezer for 1 minute. When it is jelly stage, you can take your finger and push against the side of the syrup drop and it will the corners of your mother's eyes when you make her smile) Jelly stage is also recognizable when the syrup sheets off the spoon instead of running off in a thin steady flow.

Remove from heat & pour into prepared jars.

Process 10 minutes in a water bath.

Share with someone you love.

Happy Mother's day to all the Mother's that hold the magic and make the world turn.

I miss you Mom.

Monday, March 23, 2009

I AM A MASTER BAKER!......and I want everyone to know it!

yup! I did it!

I had heard that Sourdough bread was easier on blood sugar spikes than yeast breads so I set out to catch me some critters. I heard that the yeasts had to be spoiled so I lined my counter top with dark chocolate, deep red fruity wine, fresh raspberries. I spoke softly to the air in my kitchen for days. Sweet this's and sweet that's. I opened the door for, what I was sure was hundreds and thousands of the little critters hoping to spoil them and entice them into my mixture of flour and water. I tried to get them drunk. A few succombed to my attempts and the soggy flour began to weep a lovely hooch. I knew I was on to something. I made myself a handy wild yeast net and danced around the kitchen singing like a siren drawing them closer into my magic potion. This, by the way, is know as the "Hoochie Mama Dance". Daily I fed the goo and waited, sometimes patiently sometimes dancing madly about the kitchen and there was sweet and definite success......Ladies and Gentlemen, may I introduce.......My Puppy! (every pet has to have a name and I travel way too much to have anything other than a sourdough starter for a pet.)

With my happy puppy I set out to make my first loaf of Sourdough bread with roasted garlic and cheese. I could hardly wait! But with wild yeast, wait you must. It took almost 3 hours for the kneaded dough to rest and double in size and then once I kneaded it again it took a VERY long time for the loaf to double, then as the scent of fresh bread and roasted garlic spread through my house, it was an ETERNITY for it to bake and once it was baked.....yup, had to wait a grueling hour for it to cool.....I just could not do it. Warm bread, who cares what it does to my blood sugar, this is Life and life that I helped to bring into existance. Heven I tell ya. Heaven. And then since I had this warm crusty loaf of fresh baked bread, I had to have a bowl of venison stew that I had previously made. I felt so rustic. I felt so self sufficient. I felt so fullfilled.

"I knead you......I put flour in the bread, you know I knead you........" I sang as I worked the dough.


The finished product.
I was so proud I had to call everyone. I was so proud I couldn't sleep.....maybe it was a blood sugar spike....should have had another glass of wine, purely for medicinal purposes, of course.
Recipe available upon request.