Hurray! I’m out of my funk! Funny how that happens. Yesterday afternoon, I was wallowing in bread dough and planning an enormous “woe is me” tearfest for the evening. “Oh, who am I, what am I going to do about x, y, z?”. There were things to do before I could indulge my potentially pitiful self, so the fest was put on hold.
Miss Peach and I were going to dinner at my sister’s house. Family dinner with our parents and my nephew. The meal was Italian, and I was, of course, in charge of carbs. Got my trusty bread making gear out, put on my Italian thinking cap, and went to work. Assembled all the usual yeast bread ingredients and then threw in fresh parmesan, fresh rosemary, minced garlic, chives, basic, oregano and got on with the business of making dinner rolls. Because my lower lip was dragging on the floor, I didn’t use a recipe. Who cares?
Miss Peach arrived, beat up from teaching wily third-graders all day. The aromatic scent coming from the oven immediately grabbed her interest. The rolls came out and we sampled. They were delish. She and I went on to have our weekly “visit” and it was good. When MP and I lived together briefly this summer, it was a 24-hour-two-cats-in-a-small-bag deal. After she found her own job, pad, life … our relationship has improved 110-percent. I am proud of her. Not because she is my daughter, but because she is industrious, passionate about her work, and knows how to have fun … a lot of fun. Miss Peach is the s*&t and being with her improved my mood immensely.
So we loaded up the rolls and off we went to dinner. It was so much fun. My family fairly gobbled up all the rolls, almost before dinner. They were not being polite, they loved them. Rah! My family is not normal, thank God. We have dance contests on Christmas Eve, opinion fests and shocking disclosure ceremonies whenever possible, and we bitch and laugh a lot. The Saint (my brother-in-law) fits right in; he is very careful to measure his words around us as he knows us to be an “off with your head” clan when provoked.
Dinner was fun. My mom, with only two weeks of radiation left, looks more beautiful than ever. Don’t care what’s up with that – it is. And it is good. My sister, the Unstoppable Entrepreneur, ordered four large pans of rolls for a weekend trip. My mom ordered more for her supper club. Really, I must be on to something – these people would be the first to say, “Are you trying to kill me?”, if something I made tasted bad.
Now I feel like I’m back on track – a different track – but in motion. Will not focus on loaves of bread, but rolls as they are easier for people to freeze and/or eat. Check. Miss Peach gets spring break from third grade and is off to the Wine Country. Check. College Girl will be here Friday, check, before she heads to Las Vegas. Check? I’ve got a million rolls to bake when I’m not working, socializing, and avoiding tax preparation.
Forgot to have pity party and weep buckets of tears. Awesome!