The Misadventures of A Baker

Today, I tried to make pigs in a blanket. Yummy! The dough is outstanding. I alternated between putting in white and whole wheat, so I don't know the exact proportions, but it would make excellent rolls. Unfortunately, I guess I let the dough rise too much because they came out like this:


I promise, there are half hot dogs in there!! I think I'd like to try pizza pockets or brown bag burritos next. My poor freezer is getting too full. I think I'll have to start eating all these things I'm freezing!

Smell

Something is going on here. I've been overwhelmed by certain smells lately. The other day, my arm smelled like baby. Yummmm. I could have smelled it all day. Last night in bed, something smelled super sweet. I didn't move for ages because I wanted to take it in as long as I could. Eventually, it hit me - it smelled like the horse feed at the farm my dad used to work at.

Here's the kicker, though - something on my back porch smells like high school. I don't know if it's the bee balm plant or something nearby, but it is especially strong while my neighbor's air conditioner is on. I could sit out there all day and revel in the feelings of being young. It reminds me of hanging out with my friends, sneaking off with a boy, wearing our pajamas downstairs and thinking we were scandalous. The innocence and freedom of that time is heart-warming. I don't sit regretting anything or even wishing I were back in high school, just relishing the memories and thinking about where I've come since then. In some ways, that's the best feeling of all.

Where Is My Week?

It's all wrapped up in this:

Fabrics are "Aviary" by Moda (3 Sisters)

I'm almost done with it; tomorrow I'll finish the quilting and do the binding. It doesn't match anything in my house, but I fell in love with the colors and patterns in the store. It's too small to fit on a bed, which makes me think it's perfect for wrapping up in on the couch during a cold winter night. Hmmm... I'm all warm and fuzzy just thinking about it.

I realized today while I was taking out the trash (that's some good thinking time if you're ever needing to do some quick soul searching) that I could very easily become that crazy lady in the neighborhood that gets weird looks from everyone. I do what I can in my little apartment to make my own laundry soap, make all starches from scratch, and clean as environmentally as possible. I'd love to start a compost pile, grow some miniature fruit trees, and have some chickens, but I believe some of those dreams may have to wait for a house. By no means am I saying that those things make people "weird," but an over abundance of these things makes my family look at me like I'm crazy. I need to find the happy medium between being socially acceptable and reaching for these dreams that I want.

How does this happen?

I got an email from Freecycle today. There's a lady giving away 56 glass votive holders. How does one person accumulate that many glass votive holders?



One day, I dream of being perfect. I would send birthday and anniversary cards to both our families. I'd have a garden in the backyard and can all of our produce. I'd make whole wheat bread from scratch and grind my own grain. I would make quilts for all the new babies and marriages. I'd be perfect. Today, I made my own quilt. Okay, I really just made the top - or part of it. I love it so much, I'd wear it if I could. It's going to kill me to wait another two days before I can work on it again!

Summer Splash

Today, I am going to write a book about summer fun. It'll be a YA book that college girls will secretly read during a day trip to the beach, but high school girls will fawn over it. The main character - I'll call her Audrina - will spend her summer splashing in the pool and playing with her friends. I know, been there, done that. Except, she loves to go to antique stores. With her dad. He buys her furniture she doesn't have room for, so she thinks about getting a storage unit to keep things in until she can buy her own house. I haven't figured out the conflict.

If I didn't know better, I'd say a book that makes you feel this good doesn't need one.

A Day to Become a Writer

I'm feeling inspired. Looking at pictures, wishing to be a photographer. I'm reading other blogs and it hits me - if I had an idea, today would be a day to become a writer. I feel like the words are being placed in my head, dripping from my fingertips. I see beauty and I yearn to tell it with words.

Today, I would write a book about a lost soul, a woman deciding what to do with her life, a woman stuck between graduating college and a job that just doesn't seem right. I would tell of her wish to know what she was supposed to be doing. Does she stay in this job because it seems right, or search out for the job that feels right? Does she face her fears and begin taking pictures? Does she open the bookstore she's always dreamed of having? Maybe she just needs a change of pace, a new town, a new house.

http://madebygirl.blogspot.com/

If books had an image, mine would be this. I want it to feel like this picture makes me feel: beautiful, aged, cherished, loved. Maybe today I'll get around to starting my own book.

Robyn Carr and Thoughts on Series

I just finished Whispering Rock by Robyn Carr. It's the third in the Virgin River series, 6th book mentioning the characters from Grace Valley. Oh, heavens, was it good. I was getting tired of the whole everyone gets pregnant then married gimmick, so I went into this book expecting just that. Boy, was I surprised. I guess I shouldn't judge based on previous books. If Virgin River truly existed, I'd be on the next plane there to move. Who doesn't what to live in a place where everyone loves and accepts you for no superficial reasons? Where you can walk into Jack's (or another place) and be made to feel a part of the family? Or, to actually be part of the family?

Which brings me to my point about trilogies. Or series. I love them. Adore them. Would only read trilogies if I could get away with it. I've always had a theory that one book just isn't enough to delve into the lives of the characters, assuming it's a good author. By the third book, I'm worn out and done with them. I still love them, but don't want to read anymore about their lives. Something about Robyn Carr's books are different. I hope this series never ends. Have I mentioned yet, that I love the Virgin River books? :)