chicken feathers

cooking with wildlife

There was a musk ox in the kitchen today.

He made some bread.

Then, before naptime, he migrated.  To where I do not know.

I miss that helpful musk ox.

 

happy easter!

One of our Easter traditions is discussed all year long...they are "bunny buns".  I lack the cutesy gene so something like "bunny buns" does not strike me as something to exert any sort of effort in creating.  The kids, however, found a recipe for said "bunny buns" and so, several years ago we made them for Easter.  The recipe was pretty lousy so I substituted a recipe I knew was to die for and lo - a new tradition was born.  "Bunny buns" are brought up is a blissful, nostalgic sort of way as the kids remember Easters past and the glory of the "bunny buns".  Ugh.  I wish they had a different name.

Anyway, here is a recipe for the rabbit rolls.  Hmn.  That seems worse.

Thank you, by the way, to my friend Kristi who supplied the original orange roll recipe that I later bunnified.  

1 c. warm water

1/4 c. butter, softened

3 1/2 c. flour

1/3 c. brown sugar (sucanat works great, fyi)

1 tsp. salt

1 1/2 Tbsp. yeast

glaze:

1/2 c. butter (oh yeah)

1/2 c. sugar (now we're talking)

2 Tbsp grated orange peel (cue choirs of angels)

 

Mix all ingredients (except those for glaze) together as you would for any other yeast bread recipe.  Form into 8 equal sized balls.  Roll each ball into a long rope, about 1/2" in diameter.  Fold the rope in half, twist in the middle (the body) and draw the ends away from each other (the ears). See picture for a visual.

Place the rolls on a greased, rimmed sheet pan.  And set to rise for about an hour or until doubled.

In the meantime make the glaze by combining the glaze ingredients in a small pot over low heat until the butter is melted and the sugar is dissolved (or almost dissolved if you're not feeling patient).  Pour the glaze over all the buns.  Use it all.  You can pour on the glaze when the buns are rising - it won't hurt them.  

Bake at 350 for 20 minutes or until golden brown.

The rolls are soft and sweet and the glaze kind of caramelizes...they are divine.  Even if they are called bunny buns.

where have you been all my life?

Someone just discovered the magic of Instagram and Camera Awesome.

Someone can't keep her fingers off the "shutter".

Someone is creating delicious I'm-not-skilled-enough-to-do-this-myself-in-Photoshop-but-look-at-this-artsy-fartsyness-my-CAMERA-THAT'S-IN-MY-PHONE-FOR-CRYING-OUT-LOUD-can-create-with-a-few-swipes-of-my-otherwise-untalented-finger pictures with wild abandon.

Someone is in luuuuuuv.

I mean LUUUUUV.

 

a study of circles (or a walk around my house)

both applications seem to work well for kids, too.

Whose kids are those, anyway?  I barely recognize them from all the AMAZING EDITING FROM THE PHONE!  THE PHONE!  Sheesh.

I must rest my palpatating heart.

 

sunday questions

:: A series of questions posted once a week for a year.  By the end of year the answers will serve as an in depth personal history. ::

Tell about your father.  What did he look like, what did he do, what were his best traits?  His worst?  Any you share?

What special things did you do with your father?

 

we've been...

...admiring

 

...growing

...writing

 

...creating

 

...scooting

...yoga-ing 

a legacy

Four generations!  Me, baby Rita, Great Grandma Rita, and Grandma Jody

- - -

Rita Grace was named after an amazing woman - her Great Grandmother Rita Yost Studebaker, age 101.  This past week we travelled to Idaho so the two could meet.

To my little Rita, it is unlikely that you will have any memories of your namesake.  You will, however, have her legacy imprinted in both your genes and your character.  Grandma Rita is loved by all who know her.  She knows no stranger and can make anyone feel both welcome and important.  Her wit is legendary.  She has lived and travelled around the world and has the compassion and understanding to prove it.  She is a superb story teller.  I've never seen anyone slice bread as thin as she can - Grandma sandwiches are an unparalleled experience.  She is terribly stylish.  Her charm is magnetic.  She is tougher than nails.  She walks the perfect line of both devotion and acceptance.  I love her so very much and want you, Rita Grace, to know how special the woman behind your name is.  You have big little shoes to fill and no doubt you will do it with style, love and humor...it's the Rita way. 

sunday questions...the wednesday evening edition

:: A series of questions posted once a week for a year.  By the end of year the answers will serve as an in depth personal history. ::

Tell about your mother, her personality, characteristics, talents and stature.  What were her best traits?  Her worst?  The ones you share?  How did she spend her time?  Where did you like to go with your mother?  Did you go shopping with her?  What was her favorite store?  Did you and your mother share any interest in any special activity?  What was it?

the comparison game

I can feel it when it begins.  I am usually sitting at the computer reading a blog or article or admiring something beautiful when my stomach clenches and my vision tunnels.  I slowly pick up the whip and start the methodical work of flogging myself with the accomplishments of others that I am quite sure that I could never do myself.  I will never be as creative, as clever, as accomplished, as mindful, as gentle, as spiritual...it goes on and on and on.

What the heck?!?  I like to think that I'm not the type to wallow but when it comes to comparing myself to others I can sink into the filthy pit of self-loathing with the best of them.  For me, this manifests itself mostly in areas of creativity and has settled into a deep fear to try new things or push myself to improve.  I focus on what I'm not and tend to leave it there.  Festering.

The other day I received an e-mail that spoke to this very issue and has helped me identify ways to dry up the mosquito-infested swamp of comparing myself to others.  In another life I enjoyed scrapbooking. Actually I still enjoy it, or the idea of it - I just don't do it.  One of the superstars in the memory keeping world is Ali Edwards.  I receive her newsletter which I usually glance over but a recent one on the dangers of the comparison game held my attention and has given me a new way to brave these choppy seas.  Two quotes spoke especially loud and I wanted to share them with you.

The first:

"Be yourself. Everyone else is already taken." (Oscar Wilde) I remind myself that no one else can *make* me feel a certain way -- I choose my feelings. I remind myself that my job/task/goal/joy is to be myself, and allow myself to draw inspiration -- but NOT competition -- from what others are doing.  (So sometimes that means reminding myself that I've made other choices, good choices, that work for me and that may preclude having what that other person has.  Reminding myself of my values can be key here.) I don't need to try to be better than anyone else, I just need to be the best me. Finally, someone once advised me, "put yourself above no one, and beneath no one."  That helps, too.

 The part in there that keeps ringing in my head is drawing inspiration from others and not competition.  YES!  It's a great big world out there, filled with great people and great ideas.  I don't need to be everything.  I can appreciate the strengths of others, feel grateful for what they've shared, draw any inspiration I need and then move on.  

The second quote that I especially loved:

"Comparison is the thief of joy."  Theodore Roosevelt

So true.

Do you ever feel caught in the comparison trap?  What do you do to extracate yourself from it?  I'd love to hear more ideas.

 

 

sunday questions

:: A series of questions posted once a week for a year.  By the end of year the answers will serve as an in depth personal history. ::

Tell about each of your brothers and sisters.

Do you wish you had more or less siblings?

How did you like being the oldest, middle, or youngest child?  What were the advantages or disadvantages?

 

on lions and lambs

I grew up in Alaska where spring seemed to last all of two weeks.  The leafing out of the trees was so dramatic - one day there were bare branches and by the end of the week they were fully dressed in summer leaves.  It was so amazing.  I assumed that that was what spring was like everywhere.  I was a freshman in college when I experienced a full season of spring.  I loathed it.  I had no idea that the transition to summer could take so long.  As soon as I saw the buds on the trees I expected shorts and flip flops to be a couple of weeks away.  Oh no.  They were MONTHS away!  First this would bloom, then that, then something else.  GET ON WITH IT ALREADY!  I was so impatient and very disappointed with the three months of identity crisis that defines spring weather in the Northwest.

Now that I have lived in the lower 48 for *gasp* 16 years, I am finally used to spring down here.  I love it.  I love it's adolescent nature.  It tries on as many different identities over the course of the day as a 15 year old girl.  I think 15 year old girls are awesome (really, I do) and feel the same way about spring weather.

I love that you can wake up to this:

And in a few hours it looks like this:

And then this...

It's crazy, and I love every minute of it.  Perhaps some of this love affair I'm currently having this season is because I spent last spring in bed with morning/all-day sickness where my view of the splendor was more like this:

Bring it on, spring!  I'll gladly take whatever you dish out.  The flip flops are still in storage...but I know they'll be on my feet soon.