Bread, wonderful bread

Despite the hot weather outside, I still crank up my oven since I bake constantly. I am quite the minimalist when it comes to bread: I like doughs that require minimum intervention on my part (a resting period and a few folds and they are on their way) and yield loaves that bring smiles to everyone's face while providing good nutrition (the more whole grains the better). My kids see me mix dough just about every day of the week, usually when they are having breakfast. Maybe one day, when they are all grown-up and crave honest bread, they'll remember that all it takes is a big bowl and two hands and they'll want to learn how to make their own. One can only hope, right?

Here’s the recipe.

Ingredients:

(a) 1/3 cup warm water + 1 tsp sugar + 2 tsp. active dry yeast

(b) Approx. 7 cups of bread flour + 3 cups of warm water (between 80 and 115 degrees F.)

(c) 1 tbs salt

Method: (hand-mixed)

Using an 8 oz measuring cup, mix (a) yeast into sweetened water and let rest for five minutes (that's called "proofing" the yeast). Meanwhile, in a large bowl, mix (b) flour and water until no dry flour remains, incorporate proofed yeast, and let rest, covered, 20 to 40 minutes. Add the salt. Cover the dough and let it rest, doing as many folds as necessary to obtain medium soft consistency. When the dough is ready (it takes about three hours hours at my house with folds every thirty minutes), transfer it out of the bowl on a floured surface and shape it into three medium-sized loaves.

Preheat the oven to 450°F

Let the loaves rest for 30 to 45 minutes, then bake in preheated oven for 20 to 25 minutes. Cool on a rack. Enjoy!

Here's Summer

“How,” a friend asked me recently, “is June going for you? Hate the transition from the school schedule devil-we-know to camp and the devil-we-don’t.”

Picking up the pieces of three work weeks shattered from the impact of midday school events, early dismissals, half-days, and a school year that ended for two of my children a month earlier than the other two, I could only send a quick, impassioned agreement. June, as no general ever said but every mother knows, is hell.

It’s hard not to love summer, what with the fresh tomatoes, the sunny days, the swimming pools and the aura of freedom that hangs over it all.  But that freedom for my children comes with a high price tag for me, and for every other working mother I know: even the most free-range of young children cannot be left to roam the house and neighborhood unsupervised all day.

I say “mothers” advisedly. In families where both parents work or there is but one working parent, summer and the end of school means a scramble to find somewhere else for children to spend their days (or a caregiver to stay at home with them).  Mothers are disproportionately the ones who cope with that scramble.  Fathers do join in this form of summer “fun,” but what dads are missing is that sense that children who aren’t at school should be in their mother’s care.  Many of our neighbors sign their kids up for ten full weeks of assorted camps or day care minus the family vacation; I am the one wringing my hands over whether that’s “too much structure.”

Except in those few communities where year-round school has somehow won out over the forces of nostalgia and inertia that leave most children available to help out with the harvest, working families at every income level cope annually with the long summer school holiday.  I imagine most feel some level of my ambivalence.  I do love summer.  I love the heat, I love leaving boots and coats behind, and I love that feeling that the world is slacking off just a little.  My in-box is already less full, and my calendar full of lovely white spaces.

But the need to suddenly create and manage a different structure for family life is as oppressive as a string of 90-degree days.  I know children spending weeks with grandparents, weeks at day and sleep-away camp, children at home with a mother’s helper, children in summer school, and children who (like mine) will spend their summer hopping from one to another of these varying activities, meaning that every week presents a new opportunity to sort out and screw up a new schedule of pickups and drop-offs and lunches and hats and sunscreen and but-wait-today-we-were-supposed-to-bring-water-shoes.  Which is fine, and even fun, under one condition:  that we all recognize that this is the season when parents are in all-hands-on-deck mode.  Everything will take longer, everyone will respond more slowly, and four hours of full-attention work followed by an afternoon at the pool should be considered more effective and efficient than eight hours of “work” interrupted by constant calls from children asking if they can run through the sprinkler and if you know where the dog is.  Summer should mean adults without children can find time for family and friends without guilt, and that we all make an extra effort to recognize the difference between a real emergency (brain surgery) and a manufactured one (FedEx deadline).  In summer, flexibility and tolerance should prevail.

In an ideal world, some of those summer rules would always apply, and we would all, mothers and fathers alike, speak up more boldly about the moments — like June, July and August — when the scramble to raise children and to financially support them conflict.  As Anne-Marie Slaughter wrote in “Why Women Still Can’t Have It All,” for the July/August issue of the Atlantic, the more up front we are about our need to lead a balanced life in which family and work both play a part, the more the adjustments we make to our schedules to accommodate both will become the norm.

Meanwhile, the days are long, but the summers short, and I can’t really bring myself to wish for them to be any shorter, no matter how antiquated our national accommodation for a bygone agricultural life.   How did June go for me? Too crazily, and too quickly, but we will adjust.  July and August promise to offer some time to breathe.

I rarely put myself first

Don't get me wrong -- I enjoy taking care of family or friends -- but forgetting to take care of myself is a disservice to myself. Sometimes when I spend my day helping others, I am so exhausted I often turn to food thinking that it is the only “nice” thing that I can do for myself. I can certainly take care of others as long as I don’t lose myself in the shuffle.

I make sure to eat breakfast. I take the time to sit down and enjoy my first morning meal. It fuels me for the morning, and I am off to start my day. Look out world, here I come!  I prefer to pack my lunch and snacks for the next day the night before so that there are no decisions I need to make at 6 a.m. in the morning. I do whatever I have to do to make sure I have snacks with me in case I get the munchies. You should see my desk drawer at work.

That was the idea when I joined the local gym last spring. I wanted to make exercise part of my day. I prefer to exercise before I eat breakfast, so I thought I would be sure to get it in and start my day off on a good note. I lasted two months.

Back to the drawing board...

Happy New Year 2012

Francois graduated from Plymouth State University in June 2011 with a BS in Marketing and a minor in communications. He is back home living with us and works as a management trainee for Enterprise Holdings in their rental car division. For Christmas this year, he gave us a home theater system. Louis and I bought him a 2000 BMW 528i with 160k miles as a graduation present. We found it at our local small-town mechanic’s garage, the place where Francois spent a couple of summers working part-time. Dad has a proud and rewarding moment every time Francois leaves the house for work in the morning before anyone else in the house has to get out of bed.

Caroline is in her Junior year at Purchase College where she is studying towards her BFA in Drawing and Painting. We have paintings all over the house. She is working on several portfolios that she intends to use for job applications.

Veronica has started her freshman year at SUNY Buffalo (UB.) She finished her first semester in their Nursing program but found Anatomy challenging. She is transferring into a double major Business and New Media program. She is enjoying college and appears not to have a clue -- nor care -- what she wants to do. During orientation, Dad and Vern visited Niagara Falls, about 20 minutes from UB.

Matthew is 15 and a sophomore in high school. He is still playing drums, has started wrestling for his high school JV team, and is on the debate team. He is also doing a science research project. He is working on time management skills, and has just discovered it is difficult to learn math without doing the homework.

Nicholas is 11 and in 6^th grade. He seems to have an aptitude for math but is only interested in video games. We have a bunch of games and an Xbox. Playdates now-a-days are no longer on person but on line through the Internet. Dad and Nick spent a day in New York City. They visited the Christmas tree in Rockefeller Center, the Museum of Natural History, the decorations on 5^th Avenue, and Central Park. They walked over five miles with no complaints.

Dad is finally remodeling the second bathroom. He has finished modifying the plumbing under the concrete slab and now has closed up the hole in the floor. We are getting ready to build the shower walls, tile, and set the toilet.

IBM continues to get leaner and meaner. Dad’s office staff has been cut 50% from three years ago. He’s the oldest guy in the office now. His department and others have moved to another building, so the rest of the Research staff could be consolidated in the main building. One satellite building was closed this year.

I continue to wish I had more time to spend with friends and family, more time to knit or walk the dogs. But too much time is spent circling around a house littered with construction debris and holiday recycling. An ocean of cardboard boxes, eggnog containers, wrapping paper -- all the flotsam and jetsam a holiday leaves in its wake and it's going to get worse before it gets better because at some point in the fast-paced celebrate-o-rama whirlwind we've been on over here, both of us have lost all touch with reality and have absolutely no idea what day of the week it is.

That's how it gets around here at the holidays. Somewhere in between Thanksgiving with friends, Christmas with family, Boxing day with houseguests from out of town, herds of small children and not-so-small teenagers all over the place, holiday parties, concerts, services and cookies, meals, candles, dinners, brunches and deadline knitting, not to mention that much of this is accompanied by bottles and bottles and bottles of very good wine (and even if you don't drink them and other people do it still can lead to a lack of clarity that's disorganizing) and suddenly you've got two adults who have no hope of pinning down the fact that it's actually Tuesday. Brilliant move.

Happy New Year to all. From our house to yours,

Peace.

My babies are growing up

Veronica finally decided to attend University of Buffalo and has enrolled in the Nursing program for Fall 2011.

It has been a long ride. Oneonta was in the running. Then, she favored Albany, but I wasn't convinced her heart was really in it. I asked her to focus on where she wanted to be four years from now and to give me her final decision before the end of the week. That's how she decided on Buffalo. She chose UB because it is the largest school with more majors than any of the other schools she was considering. We layed out all the acceptance letters on the dining table and organised them. So, if Nursing doesn't stick, she'll have more options to choose from.

In the meantime, Francois' job offer at NEC is not what we hoped it would be -- all commission, no salary. I think he wants to take the job anyway because he'll be closer to his girlfriend. It will be a resume builder for him, I guess.

The house sure will be empty without him...

Nicholas' Compost Project

Uncle Maurice would be proud ;) Nicholas has started a huge composting project in the backyard. I filmed the whole thing, but he is shy and doesn't want his fifteen minutes of fame on the blog. (So I put it on Facebook instead.)

Christmas Eve 2008

Louis is sitting here, waiting for his “writing muse”, and thinking about all the unanswered Christmas cards on the window sill and how the previous weeks, filled with activity, blur into an image sequence of frenzy and questionable importance. So much has changed in the last year and so many people have gone in so many directions.

Our family is a reflection of this. We now have three teenagers (deliberately and inexorably developing into their own persona), a pre-adolescent, and an eight-year-old. (Not to mention the three dogs and a geriatric, diabetic, and cantankerous cat.)

Frank is a sophomore at Plymouth State University in New Hampshire. He declared his major and is studying Business and Finance. He has his own circle of friends away from home now and, aside from the few times he “hangs” with his old high school buddies in their effort to eschew the boredom and indifference with this town, can’t wait to go back to school. He’s taking a business course over winter break, so he’ll be leaving after New Year ’s Day rather than stay home most of the month of January. Over the summer, he worked in a local garage as a mechanic’s helper. He plays bass guitar at school in a rock band.

Dad observes, vacillating between a knowing understanding of the lessons that will be learned (sometimes the hard way) and a jealous wish to be 19 again – can’t go back.

Here is a case in point. For about $300, a student can get a full season lift ticket at three of the best ski resorts on the East coast. One recent morning, while a group headed to one of these resorts about 20 minutes from their school, Frank’s friend totaled his car. The picture of the bent, sheet metal wreckage was on their Facebook account within the hour. Fortunately, no one was hurt. In fact, unfazed by the incident, they continued their journey (don’t ask me how) and managed to get in a full day of skiing.

Caroline, 17, is a senior in high school and has blossomed into an energetic, enthusiastic, talented, curious, and interesting individual. Her passion for art has grown. She has her work all over the walls of her room and has written a comic strip of over 300 pages to date. She has an interest in theatre arts (scenic design) and has managed the painting and construction of many of the school plays. The highlight of her high school stage career came this past March when she was in charge of the painting crew for the production of “Les Misérables”. There were over forty set changes. She and her friend individually painted the fortress set used throughout the play.

She is now at the end of the process of applying for college. Caroline has developed a portfolio of about 20 works for the colleges to review. She has also completed SAT’s, ACT’s, college applications and essays, and latest semester’s school work and stage production. This week, SUNY Purchase, a New York state university that specializes in the arts and is about 20 minutes from our house, accepted Caroline in three different schools: the liberal arts college, the Conservatory of Art, and the Conservatory of Theatre. Before making her final decision, she is waiting to hear from some of the private schools including the School of Visual Arts in NYC and Rhode Island School of Design (RISD) in Providence. Dad’s hoping for a scholarship. We’re all very happy and excited with the SUNY acceptance because this is her second choice. She wants to work towards her BFA in Illustration and Cartooning.

Veronica, 15, is developing very uniquely. Her hair is now an attractive shade of auburn after she dyed it fuchsia last month. This accompanies a creative and individualistic sense of style. Veronica has always been a natural at everything – good in school, music, sports, etc. – the kind of person you love to hate. However, she is a middle child and a teenage girl. So now, we have talent in everything and interest and motivation in nothing. Well, that’s not exactly true. While Mom and Dad have been busy, shall we say monitoring and guiding – ok arguing with – the two older kids and chasing after the 8-year-old, Veronica has developed a sophisticated and successful talent for “flying under the radar.” Ahh, but the situation is changing because next year the two older siblings will be gone and Mon and Dad will have more time to focus on our middle, soon to be “oldest-living-home” child. The plot thickens and the tension is already palpable. Stay tuned.

Adolescence is just starting to rear its ugly head with Matthew, our twelve-year-old, where boyish interest and enthusiasm live and the occasional and moderate showings of rebelliousness are still charming. Matt does well in school and plays in a lacrosse league. While sports are not yet is strong suit, he is developing an interest in exercise and the size and definition of his biceps. Matt also plays the drums and is becoming quite talented. He has an Ipod and listens to his rock music while he tries to follow the drummer on the recording. Dad’s hoping Matt and Frank can start a successful rock band so he can retire from the daily grind.

Dad is very old. He turned 60 in July. Last year, about this time, he joined the local gym in town. The place is magnificent. He goes there four to six times per week (Mom is glad to finally get Dad out of the house in a timely fashion) and spends most of Saturday morning there. (They call these people gym rats.) He’s lifting weights, cycling (“spinning”), and taking classes in yoga and boxing. Alas, in a year, he has lost no weight because he loves to eat. No regrets.

Mom continues her intense (read neurotic) obsession with animals. This year, we adopted, at great expense, a purebred Samoyed puppy – now a 60-pound ball of white, fluffy hair. His name is Shadow. Mom has also begun a fanatic relationship with the dog’s breeder, and they are discussing how to “show” the dog if all the details work out. The breeder was so impressed with Suzanne that she gave us lifelong custody of a second Samoyed, Shadow’s half sister, named Gypsy. Early each morning, we are awakened to the sound of howling and baying as the animals in the house take on pack behavior. After a morning ritual of licked faces, filled water and food bowls, and “outside potty,” we spend the remainder of the day dodging four-legged, white, streaks careening through the house knocking over furniture and other unorganized detritus strewn with random and illogical placement and covered with shed dog hair.

Nicholas, 8, has a very singular way of looking at the world. He’s good at math but needs some help in writing and reading. He earns his allowance by writing stories of eight-plus sentences. He also gets a penny for each adjective and adverb. Nicholas now has a whole lot of money, and we have a collection of priceless stories. We plan to publish them someday.

Nicholas still believes in Santa Claus. You can imagine how excited he was tonight. He sent Santa his Christmas list weeks ago asking for video games to be left under the tree. Dad asked him, “Why don’t you just buy the games, you have enough money?” He said, “It’s much better to get them for free.” You can’t argue with that. Maybe we should put Nicholas in charge of the Federal Reserve.

Well, before Nicholas went to bed, he put a glass of milk and four homemade cookies out for Santa. The “elves” are busy now wrapping the presents. Tomorrow, we are looking forward to a little magic that makes the Season.

We all wish it for you as well. I hope this letter finds all of you and yours happy and in good company this holiday season.

Merry Christmas and a joyous, happy, and healthy New Year.

Lou, Suzanne, François, Caroline, Veronica, Matthew, and Nicholas