Amish Friendship Bread

Well, my first foray into baking the Amish Friendship Bread was last night, and I think that overall it went pretty well. I've monitored the loaf I left in the reference office very carefully (because I'm like that; it's the Type A personality) and more then half of it is eaten. Score :) Took me longer to bake than I anticipated, though. Events transpired as follows:

- While Hank is quietly looking through his books, I gather necessary baking items and make a huge mess on the counter. Because I am how I am, I try to wipe up every little flour spill as it happens. I end up with a layer of white paste covering the counter at all times.

- I begin to mix ingredients, and realize the sheer volume of sugar this recipe calls for. We have this pathetic little sugar can that Mike insists is better than a real bag of sugar. I quickly eliminate the entire contents of the can, but luckily have just enough.

- As I measure out the other "starter kits" that are spawned off every time you make this recipe, I make a giant, giant mess emptying the batter into gallong ziploc bags. Hank is next to me, spreading water everywhere as he plays in the sink. See "white paste" as described above, supra.

- I put the starter kits on top of the gas stove, and one of them molts onto the back display. Apparently there was heat radiation going on that I wasn't aware of. I have to replace bag, and make yet another giant mess.

- I get my batter assembled, and it's real lumpy. I'm decidedly anti-lump. I stir it for far too long to get all the lumps out. Pretty soon, it's nearly 7:30 pm, and I'm still working on finalizing the batter. It's a sickness.

- Recipe says to mix some sugar and cinnamon and dust the loaf pans with it. I do so. Use up all the cinnamon sugar, and then realize that the recipe said to put some if it on top of the bread. F*ck! Oh well.

- Mix in optional chocolate chips, and suddenly Hank's chocolate meter kicks in and he comes sniffing into the kitchen. He demands to get up on a chair and "help me stir" and manages to nab several of the chips.

- In relief, I pop the loaves into the oven, and the entire house quickly smells divine. A baking success; what a rarity!

So, I'm pleased. Next weekend, I'm going to make a low-cal version with Splenda, and add raisins and walnuts to put out at Hank's birthday party. We'll see how it goes :) Anybody want a starter kit?

Cookies

Well, I made my Pillsbury pre-everything cookies last night, and unsurprisingly, they turned out rather well :) All I had to do was pop open the package, place the pre-cut balls on my baking stones, slap in oven for fifteen minutes, and voila! I'm terrible at measuring out cookie dough. I either make them too small and they get all crunchy, or I make them too big and they spread out too much on the sheet and run into the other cookies. I *hate* when that happens. Then the edges look all straight and weird. Anyway, I'll buy those again for when I need to quickly bake cookies on a week night. After work, I'm way too tired to drag out the beaters and attempt to bake something edible. Like I said, baking doesn't come naturally to me. Not only that, but my attempt will inevitably involve profanity, use of force on household appliances, scraping batter off the counter, walls and possibly ceiling, cloud of flour forming in the kitchen, and throwing away of deformed first product. Tonight I'm baking the Amish Friendship Bread. Thank God I talked to Bridget yesterday, or I would have used olive oil, not nearly enough pudding mix and only baking soda. Baking soda, baking powder, what the heck is the difference? Apparently, an important one.

Hank liked the cookies. I had to stop him from eating the raw dough and chewing on the spatula, but other then that, things went great.

Baking...

I'm real inspired about baking and cooking lately. Some of it stems from my weight loss efforts (down nearly 7 lbs! *halo*) and some of it stems from my new obsession with the wedding cake show. But at any rate, Hank and I are baking cookies tonight for his Halloween party at daycare tomorrow. I'll fess up right now: they're Pillsbury pre-mades. What an invention! But I'm a better cook than I am baker. Cooking, I can say "what? ground coriander seeds? yeah, I'll use something else instead." With baking? Not so much. I once attempted to make this cream cheese ball for a dessert at a Bunko gathering I was to attend. It had chocolate chips in it and all kinds of fab sugar and spices. Generally, you'll dip graham crackers in it. My friend Adrienne gave me the recipe. Well...*heaves sigh* It didn't turn out so well. It tasted fine, but let's just say that it didn't turn out in a ball. The consistency was all wrong. We don't own a stand-up electric mixer, and that was part of the problem. Trying to slowly add confectionary sugar while using those portable beaters = goop on Tiffany's kitchen ceiling. So, with baking, my improvising doesn't work out so well.

My next project is the Amish Friendship Bread starter kit that Bridget gave me. I've been happily mashing the mixture for 9 straight days, just like the instructions tell me. I'm a good rule follower. Tomorrow is the true test. I'm planning to bring some into work on Friday assuming it doesn't turn out disastrously, so be sure to check the reference office on Halloween :)

Being an instruction librarian...

Last night, I was a guest speaker at the library school class of my good (read: fabulous) friend and much admired colleague, Chris. He teaches a user education course, and asked me to come speak on librarian teaching anxiety. For the girl voted "Shyest" in her senior class in high school, I have much anxiety to speak of.

I really wanted to keep it informal, so with Chris's permission, I wandered in in jeans and a sweater, sat on the desk in the front of the room, and chatted for about 35 minutes about my introverted personality and how I managed to find, and thrive in, a position that requires me to do something that I had always hated - public speaking.

I tried to mix it up with funny anecdotes. I always try to do that when I teach, anyway. A smattering of personal stories will always capture attention much more than a straight lecture with zero drop of personality. I generally try to let the stories be spontaneous; things that I plan to be funny rarely turn out to be as funny to others :) Last night, the biggest laugh I got was after someone asked me what I did to psych myself up before I taught a class. Warning them that this was perhaps a bit tmi, I said that right before a class I often feel precisely like I did when I was in labor with my son - as in: well, there's no going back now, is there? Yep, pretty much stuck. So, I come to terms with that, make an effort to greet students as they come in and try to develop a positive rapport, and suddenly, I will feel more comfortable right before class begins.

But they did laugh, which is such a refreshing change over the undergraduate faces of stone I usually see when I look out into my classroom. And they seemed interested. Always a big plus. There was no guy in a hooded sweatshirt and headphones sleeping in the back row. Bonus. So, overall, I think it went pretty well. As would be expected, I was very nervous. But that was sort of the whole point of me being there :) Librarians are not natural born teachers, necessarily. It's an acquired skill, and one that can be acquired and a fondness developed for despite a distinct lack of enjoyment at being in front of a group of people. It felt good to address a group of budding librarians and share some librarian kinship. Hopefully, I'll be invited again :)

Seriously procrastinating...

I should be writing a book review, but here I am. Daydreaming about the cakes on Amazing Wedding Cakes. It's true - I'm a closet frosting addict. I will eat it right out of the can. Usually, that sort of desperate measure was only employed when I was really down about something or had just broken up with a boyfriend. In other words, I haven't delved down this path of frosting-related destruction for quite some time. But still. Whipped cream doesn't really do it for me, but cream cheese and buttercream with or without fondant make me weak in the knees. I want to eat my tv just watching this show. Why are you still talking about this Tiffany, it's a show about cake. Yes, I know. I have a problem. At least I can admit it. I watched with rapt fascination while they rolled out the fondant sugar dough and crafted it onto the cake for that seamless, perfection look. Felt my mouth water when they prepared those little bakery bags to squirt designs out of. Good Lord.

In other We Go Bridal night news, I thought I'd complile a list of my favorite moments from the bridal reality shows the past few weeks. The winners are:

3. bridesmaid riding in the backseat of Amanda's car (this is the girl who wanted to only pay her venue $80; remember her?) sits in such an unladylike way that WE has to arrange a modesty splotch in a very compromising location. Sometimes I miss my US Weekly subscription.

2. Several brides try to make demands on their bridesmaid's hair. And I don't mean "oh, allow me to set up your updo appointment for you for the morning of the wedding." These brides actually told people to un-dye their hair or otherwise make drastic changes because their new cut or color wasn't what was envisioned for their dream wedding. Some people have an astonishing amount of audacity.

1. The bridesmaid dress from last night. I actually snorted when I saw it, talk about unladylike. It was pink. It was puffy. It had *crenoline*. It had this brown sash thing that flattened the chest of anyone within a mile wide radius. I've seriously never, ever seen a dress that awful before. The matron of honor really, really looked like a giant pink powder puff. It was *bad*.

New shows to discuss...

Mike is going to just die. Last night, when I blissfully had the tv all to *myself*, I watched not only Bridezillas (I would write about it, but it was pretty unmemorable this week. If I come up with anything, I'll post) but My Fair Wedding and Amazing Wedding Cakes. The cakes show just makes me incredibly hungry. Flowers made out of fondant? Sweet Mother of God. It's good though. It chronicles three bakeries and the crazy cake requests they get, and fill.

My Fair Bride is seriously decent. This really fabulous wedding guy named Anthony (incredibly good-looking, amazingly sweet and funny, but gay; doesn't that always figure? :) goes through and completely re-designs a wedding for a given bride. Last night's episode featured a bride who wanted a South Beach theme. She had chosen a sickening green and Halloween purple as the colors, and the poor bridesmaids were subjected to dresses in those colors. You should have seen Anthony's face. He selects three Jim Hjelm dresses instead, which are *fabulous* and tells them that he will pick one and they'll find out which one on the day of the wedding. He does the same with the bride's dress and the reception venue decorations. It comes out smashing, of course. I enjoyed :)

Tired librarian...

This weekend, my husband was out of town, so I was on full-time Hank duty. I can assure you, working full-time is not nearly so exhausting as wrangling a toddler for two straight days. Weekend progressed as follows:

Friday night: Bellydancing class. Catholic Librarian = *happy*. We didn't have class last week, and we don't have it this week due to Halloween, so I was relishing my belly time. We practiced hip pistons, which are just as exhausting as they sound. We also learned a new turn. I get dizzy pretty easily, so turns are always tricky for me, but I did well.

Saturday: Did some shopping for Hank's upcoming birthday and Christmas. I know it's October, but I'm Type A, remember? Wore Hank out sufficiently such that he fell asleep upon 20 minutes after arriving back home. Victory is mine.

Sunday: I walked around the house for the entire day with Hank clung on to my leg like a koala bear. He claims that a witch scared him in Yo Gabba Gabba. As if I need one more reason to *hate* that grating show. I couldn't leave him alone for a second lest the witch "get him." *sighs* Hank spent the rest of the day trying to lay claim to the present I bought for my nephew Finn, a Diego rescue pack. "This is mine; I have this." "No honey, that's for Finn." "I press button." *Diego rescue pack songs plays incessantly for five straight minutes* "ok sweetie, that's enough, you don't want to wear the batteries out." "This is Henry's." "no sweetheart, it's Finn's, remember?" "I play with it. I *open* it." "no honey, you can't open it." It was a bit of a long day.

Monday morning: Hank announces that "my eaors are hurting me!" Catholic Librarian = worried. May have to make yet another appointment with the pediatrician. This would be fourth in the past seven weeks. *sighs again*

Being a working mother

We had a tough night with Hank last night. As has been the case since June, one of us had to stay with him in his bedroom for him to fall asleep ("mommy, I *scaored!") About 12:45 this morning, I thought I was dreaming. In the dream, Hank was annoying me by pulling my hair, and I was trying to get him to stop. Then I realized that I was awake, in bed, and Hank was standing by the side of the bed, actually pulling my hair. When I told him to go back to sleep, he demanded to get in our bed. As I always do, I told him he couldn't, because then there wouldn't be enough room for mommy and she would get no sleep. I speak from experience on this one. We have a double bed. Three people cannot comfortably fit in it. Hank looked at me, and then commenced a giant, ugly temper tantrum. By the time we got him back to sleep, it was nearly 2 am. He woke me again at 5:30 am, asking to get into our bed. Another turn down, another pout session, although not nearly so violent this time. By the time 6:45 rolled around, I was exhausted. And I had to get up, get ready, get Hank's stuff ready to go to my parent's house for the day, and then get to the "relaxing" part of the day, which is working full-time at the library.

I love my job, and I feel fulfilled as a working mother. But it's difficult. I often feel like I'm shortchanging one arena of my life, and that's not an enjoyable feeling. I'm *always* tired. And I'm often insecure about whether or not I'm a "good mother" or a "good Catholic" because I work full-time. It's true that I'm at a stronger sense of peace about things than ever before. I'm a hard working mother, that's for certain. Not because I work outside of the home, but because I do the best I can with the situation God gave me. But I still worry that other mothers look down on me because I work. And because my son goes to daycare four days a week. I really, really worry about this. I will grant, I worry about more things than most people. But it's a struggle for me.

I'll just keep doing the best I can. Unsurprisingly, I'll keep worrying, as well.

Winged Migration

I recently viewed a film called Winged Migration, a chronicling of migratory birds on a full cycle of their spring and fall migrations. It was one of those movies that I'm still thinking about weeks after I saw it, which means that it touched something in me very deeply. So, bear with me while I debrief :)

A handful of bird species were highlighted, including the arctic tern, the African white pelican, some storks and cranes, Canada geese, snow geese, barnacle geese and absolutely gorgeous red-breasted geese. The film includes very little narration, yet keeps the viewer engaged for about an hour and a half, just observing birds flying, interacting, breeding and generally surviving.

The most fixating element of the film is the quality of the footage. The camera appears to be strapped to the back of one of the geese, you feel so close to them. You can actually see their little faces as they fly. This is going to sound strange, but the geese, in particular, have *very* cute faces. And they look so earnest as they fly. They're taking their job very seriously :) They fly and form their giant V patterns with the utmost concentration.

So, throughout the film, there are events that made me smile, and some, of course, that made me cry. The director does a good job leaving the most upsetting things to the imagination and off camera, but still. In particular:

1. Scene in which a caged Canada goose hears fellow compatriots flying overhead and honks to them. He tries to fly away and join them, and when he can't, I swear his face actually falls. He watches them fly away with a look of utter dejection.

2. Baby bird of some kind nested in the grass, about to be run over by a tractor.

3. Red-breasted geese waddling through a toxic plant of some kind. One of them gets stuck in muck and is trapped as his friends get spooked and fly away, leaving him behind, panicked.

4. Baby penguin gets lured away from his parents and attacked by some nasty ass scavenger bird and...well, you know :(

5. White bird (tern?) has a broken wing and is abandoned by his flock on an African beach. Hideous looking crabs chase him down and he is powerless to fly away :(

The two that disturbed me the most were 4 and 5. Baby anythings these days make me think of my own son. Everything changes when you become a parent. Not that I ever would have enjoyed seeing a tiny chickling harmed, mind you. But now, the baby penguin and hook beaked predator in my mind become the cherubic Hank and some vandal trying to rip him from my protective arms. Someone whose very heart I would rip out with my bare hands should they attempt to hurt my baby. The penguin parents also tried to fight back, but Mr. Nasty Ass easily pushed them away. I swear it, on a scale of 1 to 10, this bird's face slappability factor was a 15.

And then that poor white shore bird :( It was pathetic watching him struggle, knowing exactly what those awful crabs wanted to do. It was then that I wondered to myself how the filmmakers restrained themselves in these situations. If I were anywhere in the vicinity, there's a zero percent chance of the following NOT happening: me, with a baseball bat, swinging at the crabs shouting "back off, you little f*ckers!" This of course ignores the fact that these particular crabs were anything but little. These were some gigantic crustaceans. They probably would have turned their attention from the bird to my leg, but never the mind.

I dwelt on these scenarios for days, weeks even. Despite the happy sequences of parent birds cavorting with their little ones, baby loons riding on their mothers backs, even a wild mackaw escaping from being caged and sold through use of his beak and sheer ingenuity, my mind wandered back to the vulnerability of these animals. All they are doing is minding their own business, not bothering their human friends in the least, trying to survive and raise their young. And all of these terrible things can befall them.

Well. Then I saw the "Making of" featurette on the DVD. I'm still mulling over my thoughts on what I learned there. As I mentioned, of course I wondered how they filmed the birds so closely. Turns out they did something called "imprinting." They raised the featured geese and company from the egg, bonding with them and getting them used to the noise of the equipment. In particular, that's how they got those unbelievable flying segments. The birds allowed them to fly right in their formation with an ultralite, a small flying machine with mounted camera. This information really tainted my view that these birds were filmed "in the wild." For instance, for the African footage, they actually flew the relevant birds to Senegal in an *airplane*. This film was just much more staged then I anticipated

In other respects, the "Making of" showed a fascinating side angle of the filmmakers interaction and relationship with the birds. When the pelicans fell ill with a parasite, they nursed them back to health. In one amusing scene, a handler is trying to get a food-boycotting pelican to accept a fish:

Pelican: snaps pouch closed tightly and looks away.

Handler: waves fish in front of mouth.

Pelican: "no, I really don't think so." Moves face in other direction.

The bottom line is, the birds were mostly domesticated, at least in my view. Very sweet the way they were taken care of. And I loved seeing their ability to interact with people. But it wasn't what I realized I was seeing when I viewed the film.

Here's the good news: many of those cry worth scenes mentioned above were totally staged. The baby bird was rescued from the tractor. As was the white tern from the invading crabs. And the red-breasted goose from the muck. In fact, that wasn't even mud. They planted him in some handmade concoction just to film that scene. Unfortunately, I think the baby penguin situation actually happened :(

So, I'm still dwelling on my feelings on all this. I understand that the ability to film animals in the wild is limited in scope and the footage may not be so gripping. So, maybe we need to accept some "staging" to make for a compelling film. I still definitely enjoyed the film. I got a closeup view of some beautiful birds and learned about some of their migration habits. Good stuff. Very, very thought-provoking.

Dear St. Anthony, please come around...

Hank and I call upon St. Anthony, patron saint of lost items, frequently. And he has found quite a few things for us, to Hank's delight. Our list so far includes:

1. little garbage can from Hank's Tonka garbage truck.
2. Sir Topham Hatt from the Thomas the Train Lego set.
3. rectangle from shape sorter.
4. piece from our bedroom overhead fan that Hank hid behind our bed.

And now last night, we added to the list:

5. Mr. Potatohead's eyes.

We're still on the lookout for that one, but I'm confident we'll locate it soon :)