28th
Kate @ 8
The other day my oldest daughter shared with me some information she’s uncovering in her psychology class about the formation of personality—the theories that science has about how/when/why we develop our specific personality traits. I’ve always loved this subject and I especially love seeing it again through the lens of my child—to have the time to talk anecdotally as her mother about how early I saw her basic personality and all the ways it has delighted me over the years.
My husband jokes that you can place me in a situation with a total stranger and within ten minutes the stranger will be telling me his/her life story. And my reply to this teasing remark is that basically I find people very fascinating. Everyone has a story to tell and I love hearing how each person got from point A to point B, H, N and even Z! I love hearing about their likes and dislikes (especially with regards to their work), the paths they’ve taken in their lives, resiliency in the face of tragedies…It’s like they’re painting their self portrait right before your eyes and with each word you see another brush stroke and color until finally they’ve fleshed out so much of themselves that you begin to see the larger picture of them, yourself and the world. It’s not always PRETTY but most often it’s REAL and for me that is what is most important—honesty with a touch of humor and humbleness—you can’t beat that combination.
And so I love these conversations with my children because even though we’ve been with each other all these years there is still so much to discover. Years ago I urged my daughters to try to write down their thoughts in a journal—this was when they first started to write sentances. They looked at me quizzically and I told them that one day they would treasure reading the words they wrote when their minds were younger and discovering so many things—that later they would see parts of their personalities that were there and that were being formed. Flash forward a few years and they’ve gone back to read those sweet young words in their journals and they get such a kick out of their younger selves.
I ran across this photo of me from my eighth birthday—a visual document of my younger self. I too, laugh with glee at that little red-headed barefooted ragamuffin I see in this photo. My face is full of freckles from being outside from dawn to dusk and I’ve got the hairstyle that I prefer even to this day—simple and pulled off my face so I can forget it and get on with the things I want to do. Simple with low maintenance but always admiring those who want to put in more effort in the adornment area.
So what’s your story and what do you think about personality development?
26th
I shot this photo because I loved the way the rising sun created the pink glow that colored the smoke/steam coming up out of these towers. Years ago I fell in love with the paintings of Charles Sheeler (1883-1965), an artist who helped me come to appreciate hulking manufacturing plants—rust and all. I loved the precision of his brush line and the way he pulled beauty out of what is often though of as ugly.
I still can’t stand coal fired power plants and I’m happy that my local utility is taking measures to clean up their act and use bio-mass fuels instead of nasty mercury spewing coal.
20th
The other day I was making another couple loaves of bread in my ever-useful mixer and I started thinking about my paternal grandmother and wondering about how much bread she baked for her family. A little back story: My dad was the youngest of twelve children born into a family of farmers who struggled during the Great Depression and ended up losing at least one farm. By the time I came along as the youngest of the youngest, my grandma had dementia and so I like to hear stories about her younger years and all of the creative energy she used to feed, clothe and nourish so many children. Two out of the twelve children survive today and one of them is my sweet & feisty Aunt Rosey. I emailed her to ask about my grandma’s bread baking (what kind of stove,flour, how often she baked…) and she sent this bit of information:
I treasure this memory-gift from Aunt Rosey. She tells it like it was (difficult) and yet she wraps it all in gratitude.
Here’s a tried and true recipe I like to use. I wish I could credit the author but I don’t have the information. I like his folksy way of telling us how to make bread—lots of helpful hints.
Great Sandwich Bread
Measuring: When measuring the flour, fluff it with a spoon and then spoon it into the measuring cup and level but DO NOT PACK. This is the most important thing for getting consistency.
5 ½ C bread flour
1 TBS salt
2 ½ tsp rapid rise or bread machine yeast
16 oz very warm water
1 TBS olive oil
2 TBS honey
(I add in 4 TBS flax seed)
Place all dry ingredients in the mixer bowl but don’t turn on mixer. In a separate container, place the warm water and add the oil first and then the honey, using the same measuring spoon, as the oil will keep the honey from sticking to the spoon.
Stir the liquids together and stir them, then turn on the mixer with dough hook installed to low speed for 15 seconds. Then add the liquid mixture all at once and turn the mixer to its lowest speed for about a minute and a half—until ingredients are pretty well together and shut it off. Let it rest this way for 10 minutes.
Turn the mixer to the second speed and let it run 3 minutes. Remove the dough hook and turn the dough onto a floured board or table. Knead 3 or 4 times to get the air bubbles out.
Place it in an oiled bowl (you can put it back in the mixer bowl) and put it in a warm place, like your oven with a cloth draped over it for 1 hour. At the end of the hour, punch it down and turn it onto the floured surface and knead another three or four times. Form loaves and put into 2 loaf pans.
Put them in the same warm place with a cloth draped over them and let them rise 45 minutes.
Preheat oven to 375 degrees and bake for 30 to 35 minutes or until crust is the color you like. If you put a small pan of water on the rack below the bread, it will make the crust softer and chewier. Remove from pans and let cool at least 30 minutes on a wire rack.
I usually brush the tops with olive oil because it softens the crust a bit and makes the loaves look nice.
This bread has a wonderful flavor and keeps very well.
15th
The other day while doing my least favorite chore (laundry) and feeling blue about the awful winter weather, I came up with an idea to beat the cabin fever blues: send out a few pretty postcards to friends near and far. In this age of blogs, Facebook and emails we often forget how much fun it is to get REAL mail in our REAL mailboxes. I didn’t write anything profound or clever but I came away feeling uplifted and rejuvenated; kind of like how I felt when this photo was taken of me a few years ago. My husband and I rented a rustic cabin in Minnesota and I will always remember that week as a time when I was able to shed the cares of the world. So here’s to surviving the winter of 2009-10! Keep warm everyone!
10th
In the middle of one of the longest winters I am starved for color. There must be a name for this feeling—some medical definition that describes how after being surrounded by blinding snow for three months your heart|mind|soul yearns for bright yummy colors. That must be one of the reasons why I found this honey jar so mesmerizing yesterday. My sweet friend Pam gave me this wonderful hand-carved wooden spoon and I love how it leans into the jar: as if they’re two buddies walking hand in hand. Sometimes inanimate objects can just make one so happy…or am I just nutty from all the snow? Whatever the reason I’m lovin’ this warm colored honey with the perky little spoon. Looking for the beauty anywhere I can find it.
08th
My illustration in the North American Review for the story,"Chasing Saint George" by Stephen Murabito.
We had just returned from a long road trip out east with a sidetrip to Lake Ontario when NAR called with this job. It was fun to illustrate a place I’d just visited. I also enjoyed finding ways to use the somewhat quirky elements within the story: Lake Ontario, summer love, a St. Bernard named St.George, and the journey back into a time when kids ran free from early morning until way past sundown—with the adults completely in the dark about their childrens whereabouts. (Or should that be whereaboooots—eh?)
07th
I went to a movie late this afternoon and thanks to the Superbowl the theaters were empty. Bad for the theater owners but wonderful for movie goers: no lines, no cell phones going off during the movie, no one kicking the back of your chair/head. Ah, it was bliss. You could lose yourself entirely in the film (Avatar—WOW!) and the three hours flew by. (This is one of my illustrations from the book, “Thinking of You”—Running Press Pop-Up Book.)
05th
Circle Round My Ear
Circle round my ear as you draw with your
soft fingertip creating a rhythm til
I lay nuzzled in your lap, dad at the
wheel smoking a cigarette chatter from
the backseat and the telephone poles
are dancing upside down to the radio
which says it was a beautiful Sunday
spent at Aunt Rosey’s playing her piano
the orange sun in my skin feels
warm as your finger continues talking
to my ear going round and round and
round and I know that its time for me
to float upside down with the telephone
poles my head dancing to the beat of the road.
A poem from the past that gives comfort to me as I sit here with a head cold and an ear infection. Sometimes it feels good to dip into the past for a little sweetness.
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