Day 16: a loaf of bread

When bread machines were a new-fangled device, I swore to my walking buddies that I would never own one because "I could make bread just as well by hand, thank you very much". 
Well, in my usual "famous last words" tradition, I have eaten those words many times over. As I listened to my friends rave over their machines, I had to have one. And that was the end of life as we then knew it. 
Bread no longer came in plastic bags in various scarily long-lasting incarnations. It came fresh out of the bread machine with a funny hole in the bottom where the paddle sat.

I've lost count of how many bread machines I have used up and thrown out. It's never the motor that gives out, it's always the pan, in one way or another. It kills me to throw out a perfectly good machine, but it's almost as expensive to buy another pan as to buy a brand new machine, so out it would go.
A couple of years ago I found an almost new machine at a garage sale for only $5.
It's been going strong ever since and has been one of my favourite machines. Another one, found this summer for the same price, awaits the death of the first before entering its moment of glory.

So yes, today I am thankful to whoever invented the bread machine.
If you have one and don't use it, send it my way. I know several people that would love to have one but are waiting for summer garage sales.

But I have perfected the art of making a delectable loaf of 100% wheat bread, and I will share the secret.
Well, secrets, really.
The first involves soaking the flour. An overnight soaking in an acid medium helps to reduce the phytic acid in the flour. Phytic acid is a digestive inhibitor and is present in all grains. It can cause gastric distress and prevent absorption of nutrients.
The second secret is Bob's Red Mill flour. I bought a bunch when it was on sale at Bi-Mart and it makes everything great. I usually grind my own wheat, but this stuff is so fine it makes a wonderfully textured end product. But I suspect that even my own ground flour will be better after a good soak.

So here is how I make my bread.
I use the basic bread machine recipe, then I put it on steroids.
Note that I have edited the instructions slightly.
So:
3 c whole wheat flour
About 1 1/4 c water
2 tbs acid, such as yogurt, kefir, lemon juice, buttermilk
1 tsp salt
About 1/3 c coarse mixed grains, such as 10-grain cereal
2 tbs ground flaxmeal
2 tbs honey
2 tbs fat, such as butter, olive oil, coconut oil
1 tsp dry chia seed

Mix this in the bread machine for a few minutes till everything is blended. It would be well to make a dough that is a little sloppier than usual, as it will stiffen on sitting. Adjust liquid or flour if necessary. Turn off the machine and let the dough sit at room temperature for 24 hours.
You heard me. 
Then add 1 3/4 tsp yeast and 1/2 tsp Baking Soda and start the cycle again. Make sure the yeast gets all mixed in and add a little water if it has stiffened up too much.
And get ready for the best loaf of whole wheat bread you have ever eaten.

NOTE: I have amended the recipe (yet again) to include baking soda, as it negates the sourness of the acid.

You can soak any recipe that has liquid in it. Just hold off on the eggs and leavening until the final mixing process. Pancakes and waffles are supposed to be awesome like this, although I haven't tried it yet.
And you could, of course, double or triple the recipe and make the loaves in your mixer and bake in the oven. And you could try your favourite recipe and see how much better it is.

If you want copies of the pdf files that have detailed information on this soaking process, which you should also do to nuts because of the enzyme inhibitors in them, leave me a comment and I'll email it to you.
And I'd love to hear if you try this and like it. I'm all about soaking my nuts and grains lately and I think it's making a difference to my digestion and general state of health.

Happy Thanksgiving, dear friends!

Day 15: Wardrobe pizzazz

Going to be totally shallow for this one.

We have a new Goodwill store in town. I went looking for a skirt for my Halloween party costume (we went as Johnny and June. Guess which one I was....) and found two.

I am quite partial to this one, although I had to re-glue a lot of the gold sequins because they were decorating the carpet. It adds umpteen more possibilities to my choice of outfits and I wear it all the time.

The photo stinks.

I was getting ready to go out this morning and the sky was so dark because of all the storm clouds that it made my house dark, even with the lights on.

You try taking a photo in the mirror in a dark room without using a flash and see how well it works!

I am thankful for my $6.99 skirt and how happy it makes me when I wear it.
It flows around my ankles and makes me feel all girly.

Day 14: A father's love

Today, I am thankful for the love of my father. A love that I never had cause to doubt.

Well, there was that one summer when I was eighteen, but that was my fault, not his.

Partly because of his example, my sister and I both married men who have been thoughtfully loving fathers.

And partly because we are just clever that way.

Our Dad was pretty hunky, wasn't he?

And I am thankful for the love that Jeff has for our children and grandchildren. 

You see, he didn't have the rock steady example in his life of what a father should be. His father and his grandfather before him were alcoholics. Historically, the pattern continues until someone with enough strength can break the cycle. That someone was Jeff.

Sometimes, the lack of a concerned father in his life has caused him grief and it has not been a pretty sight. But with great determination, he overcame that deficiency, and has helped to raise two daughters who married good men and two sons who are (and will be) awesome fathers. I often wonder if our children understand the enormous burden that Jeff has carried as he has felt unloved and undervalued by his Dad. His struggle continues even today.

This is one of my favourite photos of Jeff. It's about ten years old. I just snapped it one day when he wasn't expecting it. 

So, let's all be thankful for the love of good fathers. 

Day 13: Busy hands, happy heart

Yes, I know I'm behind.

Deal with it.

Nobody cares but me anyway.

I am thankful for whoever it was that taught me to knit.

I think it was one of my aunties.

I remember my Mum knitting things for Anne and me when we were young. A pair of mittens comes to mind. I was about six years old and the weather was very cold. Mum sat up late one night, finishing them for me. Her fingers were already slightly arthritic, I think, because she used to complain of "rheumatism".

I wore them to school the next day and lost them.

I love the Lion Brand Homespun yarn and had gathered quite a collection of leftovers from various projects. Then, serendipity struck and I found a bag of the yarn at a garage sale in the summer.

Hooray!

I had enough to make an afghan, so I laid out the colours carefully.

And I don't know why my foot is in the photo, so don't ask.

Here is the finished work. I rather love it, but can't keep it because my house is already full of blankets.

But I can't bear to give it away because I love it so much.

I've been gathering marvelous yarn over the last year and have quite a collection, waiting for the winter crocheting bug to hit.

Nope.

Hasn't hit yet.

I discovered that the back of my favourite chair makes a great yarn holder when I am unwinding the hanks.

I have been trying to come up with inspiration for these lovelies, but so far I'm bone dry.

There's something about creating beautiful things from a piece of glorified string that makes my heart happy.

What is your favourite winter sitting-by-the-fire and trying-not-to-let-your-mind-rot pastime?

Day 12: Reading material

As a young girl, I was relatively famous for my reading habits. 

I read every single book in the small school library. I loved receiving books for gifts and treasured them. I made paper covers and a bookmark out of cardboard to slip inside each one. I read Little Women at least ten times and owned all four books in the series. The Secret Garden was probably my favourite book and I was more than a little in love with Dickon.

My friend, Janet, told me once, years after we had left England, that the thing she remembered most about me was how I was always reading and chewing on my leather bookmark. I still remember the taste of that old bookmark.

I also used to tear off little pieces of the page corners and eat the paper.

True story.

If Jeff had known the depth of my dysfunction, he probably would have run, screaming, for the hills, instead of luring me away from my friends and family.

This little gem is all that remains of a favourite book of both Anne's and mine.

Little Old Mrs. Pepperpot. It is about a little old woman who has the annoying habit of shrinking to the size of a pepper-pot at the most inconvenient moments.

I should probably toss it, as no one will ever read it again, unless I can convince some of my younger grandchildren to sit still long enough to listen to it. It is cover-less and falling to pieces. But it is a remnant of that innocent time and I cherish it.

Does it make me a hoarder if I confess that I still own most of the books that were mine as a child? 

The Little Women series, all brown-spotted and ragged, but with paper covers and bookmarks still intact.

For many years, I have been a fan of the murder and mayhem as promoted by such authors as James Patterson and Patricia Caldwell. Lately, I have lost patience with the increasing brutality and decreasing chapter size and quality of the writing and have been looking further afield for my reading pleasure.
Lately, and with no particular intent, I have been reading books that are set in the time frame of the Second World War. Here is a quick list of some of them that I think you will enjoy.

Hotel on the Corner of Bitter and Sweet. By Jamie Ford. A tender little tale of a love that never died, angst between father and son, and the Japanese internment camps in Washington state. There are some twists that make you want to read the book again in order to catch the clues.

The Zookeeper's Wife. By Diane Ackerman. This is an immaculately-researched book about the Zabinskis, a couple who ran a zoo in pre-WWII Warsaw and who saved the lives of hundreds of Jews during the war. The details of their life as they continued to live at the zoo with a variety of animals and transient Jews in hiding is fascinating. Antonina Zabinski, the wife, kept a journal, so many of her thoughts and fears are taken directly from the journals. I loved this book.

Sarah's Key. By Tatiana de Rosnay. A little-known event that took place in Paris in July, 1942, is the basis for this story. The French police were told by the Nazis to round up Jews for deportation, which they proceeded to do with great diligence. The plot bounces back and forth between present-day Paris and 1942, and has some horrifying, as well as redeeming, turns. It is an easy read but will twist your heart inside out.

The Book Thief. By Markus Zusak. I'm sure I am the last person to read this book, but I loved it and have to recommend it. The format is a little strange and takes some getting used to. It is narrated by Death and bounces around a bit, but once you get it figured out, the unfolding of the story is mesmerizing. I read it in about 24 hours; I think I stayed up until 2 o'clock in the morning to finish it! The story is about Liesel, a girl in  World War II-era Germany, the people she loves, and the books she steals. It is a story about selfless love, nightmares, the Jew in the basement, and the value of a good book. This book will make you laugh and cry, sometimes at the same time.

Today I am thankful for authors who write good books, books that are well researched and tell worthwhile stories of human courage and foibles and the love that can be found in the cracks of history.

Day 11: The ultimate sacrifice

A letter from William Richard Nock to his father, George Nock, written in Europe during World War I.

Dear Dad,
Sorry I couldn't write before, but better late than never, but don't seem much good writting for I can't tell you anything, only the same old thing. I could tell you a lot, but it would only be scratched out like the last one and I didn't write much in that. I hadn't much time to thank you in the last letter for the cigarettes, but I don't know what I should have done without them for I had no money at the time and we went up the trenches the same day, but I took good care of them and I had a few when we came out and a good job too for we went back to a village for a billet and you couldn't buy a smoke at any price. I think this is all this time.
From your loving son
Bill.

Willy was my great-uncle and he died in "France and Flanders" on August 18th, 1916. This is the only written record we have of him.
I don't know the details of William's death, but it was probably in the Battle of Ypres, on the Western Front. Over a period of a few months, the British lost 310,000 men and the Germans 260,000. There was little change, after this most costly and controversial offensive, in the momentum of the war. It was the epitome of the wasteful and futile nature of trench warfare.

A letter from Kate to her sister, Sarah Anne Nock:

My Dear Brother, Sister,
I am very sorry to hear about your dear boy. It must be very hard for you both to lose your only son. This war is a terrible thing for nearly everybody. It don't seem to ever end. Dear sister, I have often thought about your poor little Willie. This is a dreadful time for most everybody one way or other with the Zeppelin coming over us again. It is dreadful, we never know when we go to bed that we shall see the morning. I think I told you in my last letter that my husband has joined up. He has been gone 7 weeks on Monday next. I expect that you are thankful that George have not to go. I miss my husband every day. He has been home twice, one leave for 2 days. I wish the Old War was over! They only pay the married men 3/6 a week, just enough for a drink. Luv, everything is so dear, I get (one pound, six shillings and sixpence) per week from the army. I have 3 clubs to pay and I send my husband 5 shillings per week so you can see I have not much left. Don't you think they have got a fine cheek taking your husband from you and giving you what they like best! I think the people who started this war ought to go fight them all..........
Dear I have wrote more letters since my dear husband has gone, I write to him twice a week. He wants me to write to him every day, but I have nothing to say. I wish I could come see you in your trouble it is a long time since I saw you. 
With love
Sister Kate.

Sarah Anne Nock, as the story goes, could not stand to live after her only son was killed, and she threw herself into the canal and died on September 30th, 1916, at age 49.

On her memoriam card is inscribed a doleful poem:
A sudden change, I in a moment fell,
I had not time to bid my friends farewell;
Think this not strange, death happens unto all,
This day 'twas I, tomorrow you may fall.

My intent was for this to be a thank you to all who have served and fought for freedom, but I'm not sure what it has become.
Perhaps a tribute to all of the men, mothers, wives, and children who have missed out on the sweetness of life and the companionship of those they love.
And gratitude for the belief that they will, in times to come, be together again.

Day10: The songs of life

Music permeates my days.
If I'm not teaching a piano lesson or leading a music therapy group or conducting a choir, I am singing along with the radio in my head. Jeff tells people that if he wonders where I am in the house, he just follows the humming.
I figured out that in an average week, I spend ten hours or more teaching piano lessons, four or five hours leading music therapy groups, two or three hours working with my church and senior choirs, and usually another hour or three arranging music or learning new songs. Around this time of year the totals tend to be higher because I am preparing musical numbers for various Christmas programmes, such as piano recitals and choir performances at church and in the community.

And practising with the bell choir.

I am so lucky!

Here is the best Christmas song ever, to get you in the mood for the season.

I am thankful for
my musical friends who collaborate with me and go along with my optimistic plans
for my lovely group of piano students who make me smile and always challenge me to up my game
for my family members who humour me by singing and playing with me
for my clients, both very old and very young, who sing with me enthusiastically
and for my friends who aren't so musical, but claim to enjoy the results of my labours.

Because, you see, my dirty little secret is that I am only a mediocre vocalist, a tolerable piano player, a fair-to-middling conductor, and an unexceptionable guitar player. But, somehow, the combination of my skills and enthusiasm, and the people who surround me and work with me, allows me to not only make a living, but to also get some pretty good results for my efforts.
So, today, hooray for music!