Hoi Polloi

This blog doesn't fit right anymore. Am I growing? Changing? Or is it just the seasons - of Earth, of my life?

I find myself tugging and straightening and frowning and scratching my head.

I'll probably be back again. But for now I'm taking a vacation from here.

I'll be relaxing over at Heightened Awareness for the summer.

And enjoying the solitude of my private blog and paper journal.

You may bump into me in the real world, too, where I intend to try new things, maybe get together with some of you face to face, and just generally observe and participate wherever the breezes of sunny days and merry moods take me.

I know there'll be many delicious moments spent in my secret places - my secret pleasures and pains - my secret searchings and findings - my secret endeavors - my secret bliss.

(I hope you have a vital secret life, too.)

See you around!

Croissant

When Ben was barely walking I made croissants in my kitchen, in a different neighborhood, in a different town. They were fantastic.

Over two and a half decades later - craving real croissants all that time and never finding satisfaction - I made another batch.

These are better.

These are truly French, except they were made here in Oregon.

By me.

And it took three days.

Today was bake-them day.

Poor Cassie and Caroline walked out the door to their French class just moments before I pulled the flaky rolls from the oven.

Don't feel sorry for the girls. The croissants are safe with me. I ate one for lunch with a small dish of last summer's berries topped with creme fraiche. That's enough. Craving satisfied.





On with the day.

Content.

(Wish you were here.)

Afterglow

Easter lasted five days for us, five days of dearly beloved coming and going, staying and playing, laughing, talking, and doing all those interesting holiday things. Besides the kids and their friends, my parents were here for three days. What a pleasure to pamper them, feed them, get them moving. And the pinochle was AWESOME!

My paper journal writings are a dozen pages longer this morning so my head is blissfully floaty right now, relieved of the annoyance of jammed thoughts and noisy words jostling for position. Only afterglowing ponderings of the last five days swirl amiably amidst the gray matter.

I read this in a book today: Quality is a passion, even a compulsion.

It sums up Tom, the kids, and my perspective of life.

Not that we always achieve quality but we do love it so.

(Right, Sam?)

At three o'clock Sunday morning I couldn't sleep. Excited about Easter Sunday, you see. I flipped open my non-recipe book hoping to read myself sleepy. Instead, I found amongst its pages a random recipe for French Baguettes.

"These look ridiculously easy. Really easy," I whispered aloud to myself there in the guest bed. (My parents were snoring peacefully in the master bedroom, Tom buzzed on the futon.)

I finished reading the chapter only to turn back to the recipe.

"Still not sleepy. I could make these right now and serve them with dinner instead of cornbread. It'd leave the oven open for roasting the vegetables. Fresh, yeasty bread. Good idea. Am I really that awake? Yes. Yes, I am."

So I did it. I made baguettes in the dark of Sunday morning. While the dough rose I sat myself down in the leather rocker and read the resurrection accounts in my Bible. And I cried. And I prayed. And I punched down the dough and formed baguettes. And they rose with the sun which was shrouded in rain clouds but dawn's light arrived just the same. It came and brightened my living room. And my kitchen. And my heart.

Cassie groggily wandered to where I sat meditating. "What are you making, Mama? It smells yeasty. Or are you cooking with wine again?"

"Follow your nose, Cassie. I think you'll be pleased."

She was.

I smiled.

And I wasn't tired all Easter day - but slept well that night.

For a myriad of reasons.

Temporarily Out of Service

Three days of sunshine so far, windows and doors wide open, zorries on feet, flowers popping up EVERYWHERE, Tom tidying the yard, the girls and I pulling nails from building project lumber, squirrels taunting the beagle, symphony of lawn mowers in the neighborhood, weeds sprouting in spite of my cursing at their little selves, soil damp rather than saturated, peat pots on the window sill sprouting garden plants, and blossoming trees joyously waving limb-arms to the heavens in celebration of Spring, of Easter, of Resurrection!

With company coming for Easter weekend my week is full of lists: "Chores", "Menus", "Groceries".

At our noon meal we are reading aloud, Christ in the Passover. Sets the mood for the week.

This is my favorite Holiday. It's the most spiritually meaningful to me and it's easy compared to Christmas or Thanksgiving.

I find myself contemplative.

I find myself energized.

I find myself eager to host my family and friends this weekend.

And I find myself relaxed into the spirit of the holiday.

Happy Easter, everyone, whatever your spiritual leanings.

I'll see you on the other side.