The Van Goats took a vote and it was unanimous - from here on out, what happens on the ranch, stays on the ranch. We all think it's been fun, especially Twister because she is such a gifted writer, but somehow it's just not the same anymore. It's been a fun couple of years and we thank you.

The End

In Bread We Trust

Well, we've been enjoying the good weather so I haven't visited the blogosphere. I must say the Struan I mentioned in the last post turned out very well - unquestionably the best toast bread ever. And I haven't even brought up the grilled cheese sandwiches. Yum. I'm not really big on photographing food, so I don't even have proof of my culinary effort , which I realize is quite remiss of me in a world where blogging about food without pictures is like eating movie popcorn without Junior Mints. Hardly believeable. I am a mere amateur (an experienced amateur, but amateur nonetheless) but trust me on this - if you are a baker then Struan is the dream you are waiting on to come true. It is real, it is truth in bread........truth you can hold in your hands. If you do the work you will reap the rewards. A beautiful loaf inside and out. I love the history of Struan. The bread that was -according to the legend - baked by the oldest daughter of the family to celebrate the harvest. Gifts of grain to the family and fellow farmers. When I work with the dough I feel as though I am part of the history, albeit in a very distant way. Corny? Maybe,but I enjoy the vision of the daughter kneading the bread on a table in front of a fireplace with happiness in her heart for a bountiful harvest when I am kneading my dough on my contemporary American counter. Sound corny? I don't even care because my family is consuming something made with a thankful spirit; real through and through, instead of the questionable contents of a plastic bag. Serve up a loaf of truth t0 your family; talk about what real bread means with them at the dinner table. Let them know that it's not just food for the stomach - it's food for the soul. Trust me - it's worth your time.

Faith in Baking and Baking Soda

The goats are tired of rain and so am I. Thought I heard Wallace quack this morning when I was leaning out the bathroom window. It's hard to get into the whole creative process when you're straining your neck muscles to keep your head above water. Okay....I exaggerate somewhat. Still, it's hard to work outside when the ground is squishy, and let's face it - I'm not six years old anymore - that squishy stuff is no longer appealing. My to-do list for the inside is long enough to keep me busy for quite some time so I guess I really shouldn't complain. Top of the list today is bread - specifically - Struan. I haven't attempted Struan in many years, my first attempt being somewhat off-putting. I've decided that for some reason I need to make a bread with some real meaning behind it. (Of course, all my bread really has meaning behind it - it means we'll have something to eat!) Okay - get a hold of yourself. Seriously, Struan has a long story behind it - it was a harvest bread that was usually made by the oldest daughter of the house. From what I can determine, it was a tradition that came from an area in Hebrides known as Struanmoor. You can read more about Hebrides here. You can read more about Struan from Brother Juniper's Bread Book by Br.Peter Reinhart ( who is an amazing baker, but that's a whole nother story). Get it here. Brother Juniper's Bread Book has some fabulous recipes, but I have to admit that the method requires (perhaps not coincidentally) a leap of faith for someone used to doing things a little differently. Much of my bread baking education has been self- taught, from this book and that, but I have to admit that when I made the white bread out of Brother Juniper's Bread Book, my eyes were opened. I'm not even a white bread kind of gal - I just wanted to make something that seemed simple, but it turned out two absolutely amazing loaves of bread. Now I am very inspired to try the Struan again, so here's to faith in baking and in all things.
Cleaning the house. Eeeep! No longer one of my favorite things since somewhere along the way, I lost of control of my house and now it controls me. Being controlled by a house is just not a good thing, let me tell you. It's very hard to regain control because once it's gone, you just want to bury your head in something that isn't too dusty and forget about it. I lie awake in bed in the early hours some mornings and angst about it. (Today was my day for lying in bed angsting about the goat house - tomorrow will probably be the day for angsting about house cleaning - I usually fall back asleep before I can fret about more than one thing. ) I am a baking soda/vinegar/essential oil kind of girl since I became unable to tolerate chemical/toxic waste smells. I absolutely cannot tolerate any of these perfumes that people bathe in before they go to work, or wherever it is that they're going. Candles, air fresheners, cleaners - it's all toxic. I know I am so far from being the only one terribly disturbed by this stuff that it's not even funny. I think laws should be passed against this kind of pollution - I really do. I read about one lady who couldn't even leave her house because she developed such a sensitivity.
And this is not getting my house clean. (sadly....though heaven knows if surfing the Internet could push the broom and move the dust rag, my house would be spotless!) It's time to get out the vinegar, baking soda and rosemary oil and swab the decks.

But first, I'm going to start some Struan. I'll let you know how it goes.

Ask- a -Goat

I'm finally off on a Saturday - and it's cloudy. Bummer. It's been raining for the last couple of days so it's not even optimal conditions for digging in the ground. I've got to build a goat house.

How is this going to happen?

On top of all this, I've got all these thoughts rumbling around in my head.

For example:

Most days, I think about getting rid of my tv and my computer. I long for simpler times.

I want to be a farmer with lots of land, animals and vegetables.

I've got to build a goat house.

If I believe in God, which I do very much, then why does Buddhism seem so appealing sometimes?

Why do I sit in this chair so much when I feel so much better getting up and doing stuff?

And this one, a new thought: why is John Turturro, in the second Transformers movie, ripping of his pants to reveal some really scary.......underpants?

I've got to build a goat house.

Why are organic foods and products so expensive when organic is the way foods and products should be? It's like giving a child a reward for doing something he's supposed to do anyway.

Why are entertainers paid so much and teachers and cops paid so little?

Is trying to stop global warming really trying to go against God's plan?

Why is it so hard to not spend money?

I've got to build a goat house.

I've got no answers.

Maybe I need to ask Twister.

Step Away from the Ice Cream...........

Drastic times call for drastic measures. I have a point, a reason for saying that....I just can't get to it yet. I recently reached the culmination of several years efforts in trying to commit suicide by gluttony. No...I didn't actually try to commit suicide, but considering the fact that I'm not an uneducated person and I had to know the damage I was doing to myself by repeatedly overeating, anyone could be excused for thinking that. I haven't been to the doctor for said problem - no, nay - I have diagnosed myself. One bitchin, screamingly unhappy, hiatal hernia. I am fairly certain. One morning, a few weeks ago when I woke up sick as hell and throwing up, I realized that while it would probably be a good idea to go to the doctor, major lifestyle changes would be necessary no matter what. So......enter drastic measures. I've quit alcohol, caffeine (except for the very healthy yerba mate) fast foods, fried foods and overeating. I guess major sickness is a potent distraction from feeling deprived - I've missed none of that stuff. My problem now is that I'm getting hungry a LOT. It is difficult to eat a tennis ball sized serving when I'm hungry enough to eat the legs off the table. I have had frequent small meals, but for the first time since the vomitathon I've really had trouble restraining myself. I guess the honeymoon is over.
This all sometimes leads me to wonder how those people who make a living overeating in those contests are gonna fare a few years down the road. I see other people overeating and I just want to tell them that there is nothing they could possibly eat that is worth someday feeling like I felt that morning. Overeating is such a bad problem to have. There are lot of people who think that overeating is just a sign that a person is weak or a pig. It's an addiction just like drugs, alcohol or cigarettes with consequences that can be just as severe as any other addiction. It requires major self-discipline like any other addiction. I hope someday soon, I'll be able to look back on this as a bad time in my life and I would like to look back from a healthy body in size 14 jeans. But for now, I'm just happy God is giving me the strength to put down the fork and push back from the table.

Here Comes the Sun!

Amazing!Thank you Fresh Air Fund! I would love to believe that I played a part in helping at least one of these kids have a fabulous summer!

The Van Goats are proud of me - they think I'm actually losing weight. I have to give a lot of credit to my new personal trainer. She is fierce and she totally busts my ass. She's.........my 6 year old daughter. I've been walking to her school some instead of driving to pick her up and then we play on the obstacle course thingy and she is really kicking my butt! This kid knows what she's doing - "Put your back into it!" she screams - as I heave my big gut up the incline for another crunch. (Don't really know where she got that.) I've been walking, loping, hanging from a bar trying to look like I'm doing chin-ups, doing crunches and pulling my super-sized self up and over all manner of playground equipment. Tell me I'm not gonna be ripped in a month or so! Damn straight! I've also been doing extensive work in and outside of the house and I'm feeling like a real person. I'm not really sure what got me fired up all of the sudden. I guess sometimes all it takes is the realization that you're slowly dying - we all are, just some of us are trying to hit the express lane - and you can either slow down the process and enjoy the ride, or do a "Thelma and Louise" off the great cliff of life. It's a matter of personal preference. I've been in the process of taking the "Thelma and Louise", and even though I know that it's not the option that I really want it's hard turn around when you're going full speed.

OMG! Some guy just walked in Panera wearing man-pris! WTF! He must've lost a bet. Like sitting here listening to some guy with shitty sinuses sniff like "Wilbur" the pig for the last half hour wasn't irritating enough. Damn. Can't a sister get some peace?

Anyway, as I was just saying, I don't want to do the "Thelma and Louise" and it's awfully hard to slam on the brakes when you've got your eye on the half gallon of ice cream a little way down the road. I'd like to meet the asshole that invented ice cream. I'd shove several pints of Ben and Jerry's Chunky Monkey up his butt. Better still, I'd let Vincent or Vanessa Van Goat do it for me.