Genesis, Amos, Penelope

Three years ago, I came to McPherson to get to know my nieces and nephews and soon they're going to be moving to Jackson, Mississippi because I don't get to make the rules. Today, we walked to The Cake Lady and got messy sugar cookies, came home and drew with sidewalk chalk, paused for pictures near the flower bushes, pushed the stroller up and down the sidewalk half a gazillion times and then snuggled.

 

Genesis has an astounding vocabulary. When we were having our cookies, she said, "it appears that Penelope has demolished her treat."

 

Amos has a sensitive spirit like mine.

 

Penelope has adventure oozing out of her.

More on Dale: Or, Sappy, Happy, Glorious Me

Methinks that I need to start dreaming bigger. Here's what Dale (my spring/ summer bucket list) looks like right now.

Go camping.
Make an herb garden.
Plant something gorgeous at the bottom of my stairs.
Organize my coffee area.
Have the friends over for tacos, sangria, and homemade horchata.
Finish Ryan's Christmas 2011 present. #worldsworstgf
Bake a loaf of bread (a real loaf of bread--not beer bread).
Read The Fault in Our Stars.
Sew a new pair of pajama pants.

"Make an herb garden" gets half crossed off because I started very small. I have, as of yet, kept a little oregano plant growing strong for three weeks now. The only reason that he is alive is because he is directly in front of my computer screen. Literally. Look at this.

Glass of water at the ready.

No excuses for droopy leaves (I know, I know, it looks a little crummy right now but I forgot to water him yesterday and it's been exceptionally cold. He's coming back around.) If I want to remember to do anything, it has to be right next to my computer. Presently, this is also where I keep my vitamins.
You do not understand what a victory is is to have kept a plant alive for this long. Also, how cute is that pot that I diy'd in less than five minutes(!).

"Bake a loaf of bread (a real loaf of bread--not beer bread)." Happened minutes ago. Minutes ago. And it was awesome. I mean look at it. Look at it!

Isn't she lovely? Isn't she wonderful? One in a million. Less than one minute old.

I was nervous that the yeast wouldn't proof or I'd put too much of one thing and not enough of another thing and it would be flat and dense and stupid. But, I'm going to go ahead and say that it's pretty darn good for a first try. Kneading and making a mess of my counter was intimidating but when the time came, it wasn't such a big deal. I was scared... of a loaf of bread. NBD, you guys. NBD. The inside is soft and a little crumbly (but that could be because I was hacking away at it with a steak knife as that's the only serrated cutlery currently in my possession) but I think that if I knead it more, it will develop a little more of that chewiness. In the end: totally pleased.

"Read The Fault in Our Stars" happened last week. It touched me deeply. It was a love story but it was more than that. It was a human story. About living and dying and living while dying and the uniqueness of each, indivitual's story. You know. I think that I learned that I never truly understood love stories until I found myself truly, irrevocably, and wholly drenched in unconditional, reciprocated love. Heart on my sleeve, sappy, happy, glorious me.

Hazel said, "I fell in love like you fall asleep. Slowly and then all at once."

That's so far.
How are your ordinary adventures?

XOXO
Libby

An Excerpt From My Journal

3/28/2012
I came to Lakeside Park to read this book. To bask in the glory of the sunshine and get a little Vitamin D since I primarily only drink skim. So, I chose this concrete bench under this tree and got swallowed up in the narrative of two American teenagers losing their virginity wrapped in love in a hotel room in Amsterdam. And I got caught up. I looked over my shoulder when I heard the geese. I turned around and I was caught off guard. By absolutely nothing in particular except the spectacular nature of the day. The beauty and the brightness of today. This day. The grass is unfathomably green. The sky is so blue and so solid that it's difficult to imagine that it really is nothing at all.
And I feel lucky. We don't get to see so many beautiful days. And I don't mean that other days are warmer or colder or cloudier or windier--though they are. Even if all of my days were as beautiful as this day--we still don't get all that many.

The End.

So Many Sundry Items

A few sundry items:
Over at The McPherson Sentinel, this week, I blogged about thrift stores and then I blogged again about taking your thrift store finds and making them, decidedly, your very own. Complete with these before and after shots.

Secondly, on my Bucket List post, Laurie asked me a few questions:

Do I have a good beer bread recipe? Absolutely I do. I'll give it to you.
 Ingredients:
3 c. all purpose flour
3 T. sugar (I never end up using that much sugar--maybe half?)
1 T. baking powder
1 t. salt
1 bottle of beer (I use whatever happens to be in the fridge but I will let you know that I'm not a huge fan of the way that stouts come across. I made it with Guinness once--big mistake.)
1/4 c melted butter

Method:
Mix up all of the dry ingredients.
Mix in the beer.
Pour into a prepped loaf pan.
Drizzle the melted butter across the top.
Bake at 350 for... I'm so bad at time. Bake it until it is done? Here's how my mom taught me to tell when a loaf of bread is finished. When it's all golden brown and when you thump the top of it, it sounds hollow. It's an art to master but so far it's never failed me.


What kind of "real bread" will I make as per my Dale List? I'm not sure. Honestly, I just always shy away from yeast breads and anything that requires kneading. The reason for that is twofold. A. I am afraid of yeast (and baking in general--though I am coming around) because it seems so sciency and there's so much I could screw up and it will all be  a huge waste of time and money. B. I have super limited space in which to knead. But I will get over these issues and I will make a bread. Anything that requires paying close attention to the instructions. Mostly this is about facing fears.

Do I like to sew? Well, I have everything that it takes to sew. That is to say that I have fabric and a machine and thread and space. But as of yet, I haven't been able to put it all to good use. I like to make things. I like to make useful things. Sewing seems like a terribly useful skill. I would like to make that happen. But as of yet, I have not. When I was in home-ec, the sewing machine magically busted every time that I used it and my teacher focused on hand sewing for me. She gave up. But I want to learn! And I will. I have the internet and a machine from the 40's. What could go wrong? Also Determination is a friend of mine who shows up unexpectedly for the weekend sometimes, I'll try to get started when she's around.

And finally, I can't help but toss around in m mind--why is it so hard to be kind? Why is it so hard to do what's right? Why is it so easy to slip into gossip and whining and dissatisfaction and so hard to be good and happy and grateful? How as dissatisfaction become the default when we're surrounded by so many astounding things? Why is it that where two or more are gathered, shit talking generally ensues? I don't want to do that. I don't want dissatisfaction to be my default. I want kindness and gratitude to be my default. Now, if only I knew how.

What have you made for yourself, lately?
What silly thing are you afraid to do?
How do you stay so wonderful and positive all of the time?

XOXO

Spring/ Summer Bucket List: Dale

It's never too early to start your summer bucket list. And when you start your list early, you get going on it early and subsequently it gets renamed. Spring/ Summer Bucket List. There's got to be a contracty way to say that. Spummer Bucket List? Sumpket List? Maybe we'll just name it Dale. Who knows--the possibilities are limitless, really. Here's mine so far.

Go camping.
Make an herb garden.
Plant something gorgeous at the bottom of my stairs.
Organize my coffee area.
Have the friends over for tacos, sangria, and homemade horchata.
Finish Ryan's Christmas 2011 present. #worldsworstgf
Bake a loaf of bread (a real loaf of bread--not beer bread).
Read The Fault in Our Stars.
Sew a new pair of pajama pants.

What's on yours?

Cocoa Bread + Strawberry Butter

Sunday was that kind of drizzly, sleepy, daylight savings kind of day. The kind of day where you don't totally change out of your pajamas but find a way to modify what you're wearing into something semi-public appropriate. Ryan and I went to lunch together and then retired to our own homes to do whatever terribly boring, solitary things we wanted. I chose to spend an entire afternoon getting two sink fulls of dishes done and browse the internet while sipping tea and espressos. It was a bake-something kind of day, too, so I put this bread in the oven and then sat on my couch and watched the wedding scene from Rachel Getting Married four times over.

Some friends were coming over whenever they wanted to. It's like time didn't exist, yesterday. That was so nice. When they got here, I whipped up Chicken Korma and rice and we sat around listening to Bon Iver and Master P.

It was an excellent way to the end of my very long weekend. And now, it is Monday.

Cocoa Bread:
2 c. all purpose flour
1 c. whole wheat flour
1/2 c. cocoa powder
1/2 T. cinnamon
1 c. white sugar
1 T. baking powder
1 t. baking soda
1/4 t. salt
1 3/4 c. water
3 T. mayonnaise

1. Whisk all of the wet ingredients as well as the sugar in one bowl.
2. Whisk together all of the dry ingredients in another bowl.
3. Stir the dry ingredients into the wet ones until no lumps remain.
4. Pour batter into a greased loaf pan. Melt 2 T. of butter and pour it over the top and then bake for an hour at 325 degrees.

Meanwhile, I wondered how I could make it just a little bit more special with minimal effort and then rememberd this post that I saw on A Beautiful Mess.

Strawberry Butter:
Add a few spoonfuls of strawberry preserves (if you have it on hand, I recommend finally busting open that jar of strawberry preserves that your grandpa canned at Christmas time) to one stick of softened butter. You could whip it if you want it to be perfectly smooth but my desire to only clean a fork rather than plug in power tools won in this instance. Plus, Sunday was all about that handmade feeling.

And because I know no one will think to ask but everyone will want to know: yes--this does make delicious toast at breakfast time.

Vegetables

I didn't only buy a potato because it was shaped like a laser gun. But I can't say that this potato in particular wasn't making an excellent case for himself. I will be sad to mash him. Also, Dillon's has purple potatoes in stock so I think everyone should go buy them and make darling colorful side dishes for all of the bbq that they'll be doing, tonight. God, it's beautiful. I feel happy.

I took myself and a crisp twenty to the grocery store this morning, looking for a little therapy. The Parker Girls, for whatever reason, have always taken to vegetables when faced with disappointment or frustration or even absolute happiness. I couldn't tell you what it is, exactly, but my sister and I are the same in this. Chopping vegetables. That's what I need when I need it.

It's a project. It comes to a productive end. It's crisp and delicious. It's light and airy. It's clean and purifying. It's chopping vegetables. That's all it is.

I don't usually keep salad items on hand. I'm picky about how my lettuce is prepared. I never have enough vegetables to go along with it. It's difficult to get lettuce dry enough that it won't spoil too quickly. But today I had all of the patience for exactly this activity. Chop a few cups of romaine. Rinse in the colander. Pour out onto the kitchen towels. Wring. Repeat. It is glorious.

What are your strange, reasonable compulsions?