The other day, I got to thinking (always dangerous).
About the reasons, events, and moments, in my life when I have experienced hackle raising(ie: I will come at your eyes).
They are far and few between all the love, however, it has happened, and when it does it is not pretty.
Here are a few classics (in chronological order):
My little sister was being picked on by neighborhood bully Kenny. He was knocking her off of her bike when we played Bike Tag (which, if you have never played- is awesome).I cut his tires so he couldn’t play.
My little sister was being picked on by some idiots in Middle School (I was in High School). I arranged for a little visit by my friend, Reggie, on his Harley, to the playground. They had a little talk. Problem solved.
My best High School friend, Debby, was being called a lesbian by several mean girls. The rumors spread. Debby was devastated, but it was nothing a full-on-the-mouth kiss in front of a full gymnasium of peers, and a counter-rumor of scabies among the blondes, couldn’t fix. I’m brunette, by the way.
Assorted teachers that found my son disruptive because he was asking to take tests before the course had been fully taught. The only thing disrupted was his learning- at least until he was allowed to accelerate through the system. Idiots.
A beautiful, sunny, weekend day of grass cutting, house painting, chores, and happiness, when I realized that the woman across the street was yelling serious obscenities at my kids because she had gone off her rocker (and her meds). A visit to the fence line with a call-out to the public sidewalk, peppered with a shut down in controlled, but colorful, speech, found her raving when the police arrived, and my neighbor chanting, ” Oh oh. Cheryl’s in the house.” Bye-bye crazy lady.
The charitable gift of a ten dollar bill, to a sweet young thing, bemoaning a car malfunction down the road, when, I saw her skip off to the streetcar line with a young man, who had magically appeared out of the bushes, whereby I followed the street car all the way downtown, and by which, when they disembarked, I pulled up along side them and demanded my money back. Startled as they were, the money was reimbursed.
My list could go on and on and on…
But it’s just not my list. There are other’s who have had such moments, like my friend Alyson at The Shitastrophy
I only wish I had been there.
“Don’t forget that we have the Julia Jump shindig for the PRC at City Park’s Popp Fountain in the Arbor Room with Amanda Shaw playing and a silent auction, cocktails, small plates, dress business nice, and our guests are Julie and Chuck.”
“Who the hell is Julia and why is she jumping?”
” Do you really care? Really?”
“Fine. Can you remember?”
“I mean it.”
“Do I look like an idiot?”
He missed it.
I ‘jumped’ for both of us.
Julia Jump is the annual fundraising event for the Preservation Resource Center in New Orleans, committed to restoring, rebuilding, and revitalizing New Orleans’ historic architecture & neighborhoods.
Once Upon a Time…
there was a little red hen who lived on a farm.
She was friends with a lazy dog, a sleepy cat, and a noisy yellow duck.
One day the little red hen found some seeds on the ground.
The little red hen had an idea.
She would plant the seeds… and grow some wheat, to take to the mill, to be ground into flour, to bake into bread.
Synopsis: None of her slacker farm mates would help with any part of the making of the bread, so even though they wanted a piece; fresh, aromatic, savory and filling, little red hen didn’t give a damn.
Moral: You should probably participate when a hen can pull something like this off. I know humans who couldn’t do this.
Once Upon a Time…
A Giant smells a human boy.
I smell the blood of an Englishman,
Be he alive, or be he dead,
I’ll grind his bones to make my bread!
Synopsis: Jack steals a lot of valuables from the Giant over the course of a few secret visits, climbs down the beanstalk, with the Giant on his tail, grabs an axe, chops the stalk down sending the Giant to his death and Jack and his mom live happily ever after on the stolen loot.
Moral: I think the Giant was under-appreciated.
Once Upon a Time…
Hard by a great forest dwelt a poor wood-cutter with his wife and two children.
The boy was called Hansel and the girl Gretel…
blah blah blaaaaaaaaah
We all know the drill.
Synopsis: Starving peasants, including obligatory evil stepmother, take their children to the forest to die because there isn’t enough to go around. Not only are the children abandoned, starving, and lost, but they have to face an evil witch who attempts to bake Gretel in her oven with a loaf of bread (because nothing goes better with a fresh loaf then thigh of child) however, Gretel pushes HER into the oven instead and the witch incinerates, as the children, now somehow, remember how to find their way back home to a grateful father who is no longer being pussy-whipped by his wife- ’cause she’s dead, too.
Moral: I don’t have a God damned clue, but there’s the bread theme- again.
What I do know is that I have baked some bread.
And it is good.
So, if you find wisdom in listening to talking poultry (and I do), would have liked to try a slice of that Giant’s bone-dust bread, and would never have been so stupid as to venture into the forest with the biiiitch that had your daddy doing dumb doggie tricks without a trick of your own up your sleeve, then join me…
While we bake bread.
Fairy Tales can come true.
Sour Dough Bread Recipe
First, make the STARTER.
1 package active-dry yeast
4 cups warm water
4 cups flour
In a medium bowl, dissolve the yeast with 1/4 cup of the warm water. Whisk.
Add 1- 3/4 cups of warm water and 2 cups flour. Blend. It will be runny.
Place the bowl, uncovered, in a warm place for about 12 hours.
Stir the mixture.
Add the remaining 2 cups warm water and 2 cups of flour. Blend well.
Again- place the bowl, uncovered, in a warm place for about 12 hours.
It should be bubbly and smell yeasty at this time.
Separate the mixture, 1 cup each, into sterile 1-pint containers (I use Ball jars). Cover loosely as it will continue to expand. Refrigerate.
1 cup sour dough Starter
1-1/2 cups warm water
4-1/2 – 5 cups flour
1 package active-dry yeast
1 Tablespoon sugar
1- 1/2 teaspoons table salt
Course ground sea salt
In a large mixing bowl (I use my electric Kitchenaid stand mixer) combine the Starter, water, yeast, sugar and table salt.
Add the flour, one cup at a time, until the dough holds together and pulls away from the sides of the bowl.
Turn the dough out onto a floured surface and knead for at least 5 minutes until the dough is smooth and firm.
Oil a large bowl.
Turn out the dough into the oiled bowl and twist it around to coat the dough with oil.
Cover loosely and let the dough double in size in a warm place. (About 2 hours).
Turn the dough out, again, onto a floured work surface, and divide into two pieces.
Form each piece into a loaf.
Place each loaf, side by side, onto a baking sheet and cover loosely. Allow the loaves to rise again in a warm place. (About 1 hour).
Preheat oven to 425 degrees.
Right before placing the loaves into the hot oven, take a sharp knife and draw it across the top of each loaf, cutting a shallow slit into each top.
Generously sprinkle with sea salt.
Bake for about 45 minutes, or until golden brown and the loaf sounds hollow when you tap it.
Remove to a cooling rack.
Slice after brought to room temperature.
The other night I awoke from a dream.
The kind of dream that propels you to make changes (and not just to your shorts).
Upon re-entry, I felt re-newed, refreshed, and refocused (just REEEEE’d in general).
The day began with a commitment to…
Spend more time focused on cardio-based exercise and less on what lululemon combo I will wear.
Eating more brightly colored veggies more often.
Upping my ‘Volunteer’ game.
Calling my mother more often.
Being more ‘available’ to friends and family.
Wearing sensible shoes.
Only drinking wine with dinner.
Laying out my husband’s clothes.
Sending my children more money with no questions asked.
Saying ‘Yes’ to every cock-a-mamie request from, clearly,very desperate people.
Voting for whomever looks the best.
Picking up highway trash because I believe real change starts with the power of ‘One’.
Cooking my way through Craig Claiborne’s The New York Times Cookbook.
Presenting the aforementioned epicurean delights while wearing only an apron.
Reading War and Peace.
And since none of that shit is going to happen, I choose to, instead, re-invent this blog with the help of Julie at Fabulous Blogging.
I think the day ended better, don’t you?
The other day, one of my writer friends, Linda Roy (who blogs at elleroy was here- if you don’t read her, you should), wrote a post about being interviewed by the ever-omnipitent James Lipton, from the Actors Studio.
You’ve seen him: never cracks a smile, asks what time it is with Shakespearian aplomb, has spontaneous orgasims when any guest says, “Oh, James.”
HYSTERICAL (And so is Linda.)
Anywho, I called up Jim (we are on a familiar basis- he calls me Her Majesty) and demanded he attend an audience with me.
This is that audience…
1. What Is Your Favorite W-o-r-d?
“Very powerful, Cheryl.”
2. What Is Your LEAST Favorite W-o-r-d?
” Nice. So over-rated. I prefer asshole.
“There are so many.”
3. What Turns You On? wink-wink
” Eight hours of uninterrupted sleep. Jim get ahold of yourself.”
4. What Turns You Off?
“Bragging. I’m the only one allowed.”
“As it should be.”
5. What Sound Do You Love?
“The sound of gold coins being stacked in neat little rows.”
6.What Sound Do You Hate?
” I don’t think I’d like the sound of a nuclear explosion. Then again, I’d probably be vaporized so I wouldn’t hear a thing. So lets’ just say the little ‘ding’ when my car’s tank is on empty.”
“Practical. And with such clarity…”
7. What Is Your Favorite Curse Word?
” Sonofabitch, which, for me, translates to Daughterofabastard. The kid’s knew what I meant.”
“Your children are brilliant.”
8. What profession other than yours would you like to attempt?
“Oh, to be so dominated….”
” Again. Jim. Control.
9. What profession other than yours would you not like to attempt?
” Egyptian slave laborer during the stone laying of a pyramid.”
“Good God. Do they still build them?”
“No. I’ve stopped that.”
10. If Heaven exists, what would you like hear God say when you arrive at the pearly gates?
“What took you so long. I need help.”
And, again a big THANK YOU to Linda at
for the inspiration!