1. My friend Jennifer Moody has a link on her blog to a list of the most-stressful, worst-paying jobs ever. Number four on the list: reporter. Hmmm. My mother tried to tell me I ought to major in something else...

2. My husband sent me a link to the opposite list...jobs that are least stressful. No. 5? Technical writer. Hmmm. I did just lose one of my freelancing gigs. How does one become a technical writer? Does using a computer to write count as being technical? (I'm kidding...I'm not that computer illiterate. Although neither am I a technology expert).

3. How come I'm nearly 30 years old and I feel like I'm still deciding what I want to be when I grow up?

4. I got to help out at Beth's class party today (more on that in another post). It made me so happy to see her face light up when I walked into the room. I love that she's still at an age when she's thrilled to have me around.

5. We've got Halloween buckets. We've got candy to hand out to trick-or-treaters. We've got costumes. (Unicorn, princess, and lion!) We are ready to rock Halloween. (I imagine I'll have a separate post on that too, with pictures of the costume adorableness).

6. Favorite tea of the week: Bigelow Perfect Peach tea. Really sweet and peachy. I'm a girl who likes things sweet, and this tea is so good I barely add any sweetener at all; it really is almost perfect just by itself.


7. I think I may do an occasional product review. As long as I had leave to be honest and it didn't become something that took over my whole blog. I'll keep you posted.


More quick takes at Conversion Diary.

We got about a thousand wedding gifts from our wonderful friends and family (including not one, not two, but FOUR waffle irons) and among those presents was a bread machine.

I scoffed at it.

Bread. Who MAKES bread? From scratch? Who has time for that? Plus my mom had a bread machine some time in the early '90s, and the bread it made was weird-shaped and underdone in the middle. Who needs that?

My husband wisely convinced me to at least give it a try before throwing what was probably a pretty expensive gift into the Goodwill pile.

And from that very first loaf of "basic white" bread I made on a rainy Saturday morning in our little Salem apartment, I've been hooked. There is just nothing like home made bread.

I got so hooked on homemade bread, in fact, that for many years we eschewed store-bought bread completely. Sandwiches, toast, dinner rolls--whatever we ate, I made from scratch.

These days, I hand out so many slices of bread and jam and PB&Js that I just can't keep up with the demand for bread. (If you want to read about a woman who is making ALL her food from scratch for a year, check out The Slow Food Experiment). I now buy grocery-store bread to have on hand for toast and sandwiches.

But if I want bread as a side dish at dinner--which I frequently do--then I make it from scratch. There is just nothing better than bread with soup, or salad, or an Italian-style dinner...homemade bread goes with pretty much everything, in my opinion. Sometimes I make it in the bread machine, sometimes I make it in the bread machine but take it out while it's still at the dough stage so I can shape it how I please and bake it in the oven, sometimes I do the no-knead artisan bread method, sometimes I make rolls, sometimes I make focaccia.

I have several go-to favorite bread recipes, but this is my favorite FAST homemade bread recipe. I got it from Allrecipes.com about four years ago as a recipe for homemade hamburger buns (it was called "Tasty Buns," which sounds slightly pornographic to me) but I've used it for bread of all kinds, not just buns. The beautiful thing about this recipe is that even if I wasn't on top of things enough to have my dough made and rising all day long, if I manage to think of it even an hour before dinnertime, I still have time for this recipe. Yep, it only takes an hour, start to finish, for reals.


Fast Homemade Bread

5 cups flour (you can use all-purpose, or any combination of white and wheat flour. I have made it with all whole-wheat, which of course results in a denser loaf. I prefer about half and half. Sometimes I throw in wheat germ or flax seeds or something if I have them on hand)
4 1/2 tsp dry yeast
1 cup milk
3/4 cup water
1/2 cup vegetable oil
1/4 cup sugar
1 tsp salt.

1. Stir together 2 cups of the flour and the yeast. in a separate bowl, heat milk, water, oil, sugar and salt to lukewarm in microwave. Add all at once to the flour mixture and beat until smooth, about three minutes.

2. Mix in enough flour to make a soft dough, 2-3 cups. Mix well. Dust a flat surface with flour, turn dough out onto floured surface, and let rest under bowl for about 10 minutes.

3. Shape dough--you can make it into a couple of loaves, or a bunch of breadsticks, or dinner rolls, or hamburger-bun-size, as the original recipe called for. Place on greased baking sheet to rise until doubled in size (about 30 minutes).

4. Bake in a 400 degree oven. Baking time will vary depending on what you're cooking. Rolls, about 12 minutes. Breadsticks or larger buns, 15-20. Loaves, 25-30.


The bread turns out light, soft, yeasty-tasting, slightly-crumbly bread. It's not the same as a nice, chewy, crisp-crusted loaf of French bread, but it's tasty and it's fast and it's homemade. Homemade bread for dinner in an hour! You can't beat that.

A wondrous change has come into my life. A significant improvement. A glorious thing.

I have found a solution to my kitchen floor dilemma. And it didn't involve hiring a maid, re-doing the floor, or draping the room in plastic wrap every time my children eat.

For those who may not have been following this blog for a long time, and thus have not heard me whine over and over again about how much I hate having a white kitchen floor, here's the story:

I hate having a white kitchen floor.

Anyway, the solution came gradually. First we re-did one of our bedrooms into a home office. Then we moved desks, computers and music equipment out of the living room into the office. This gave us a lot of open space in the back half of the room. I put a kids' play table and chairs back there. Then, within days of each other, my sister and my friend both stopped by, looked at the living room, and said, "Why don't you put your table in here?"

And I was like, "Yeah...um...would it look good?...I don't know."

So then I did it, and I LOVE it.

I suppose you're probably thinking that this has just transferred my messiness problem to the living room floor. And it probably has. I don't think that my kids' eating habits have changed because we moved the table. But my living room floor is BROWN. Wonderful, dirt-colored, easy-to-sweep, no-grout-to-catch-crumbs, brown Pergot flooring.

So now you can't SEE the mess. And if I can't see it (or, more importantly, if visitors can't see it) I don't care nearly as much.

Now the craft table is in the kitchen, and the kids still occasionally eat snacks there, so there is still an occasional litter of crayon wrappers and Cheerios, but a quick sweeping or spot clean with my Roomba makes it liveable. The living room also looks just fine after a quick going over with the broom. Every little speck and smear and crumb is not leaping out at your eye from its place on the slick white tile.

For the first time in two and a half years, I'm not mopping my floor every two or three days. I'm only mopping once every week...or two. Call me a lazy housekeeper, I don't care. I am a lazy housekeeper! I've got too many other things to do to spend my time mopping the floor.

You probably couldn't eat off my floors, but I promise your feet won't stick to the surface as you walk across. And why would you eat off the floor anyway? I've got a perfectly nice table to eat off of. In the living room.

One. If you live in Oregon, or have ever driven through the state on Interstate 5, you probably know about the Albany Paper Mill. It's the great big tall building just west of the freeway that spews a distinctive paper mill odor into the air. If you tell someone from another part of the state that you're from Albany, they're likely to wrinkle up their nose at you. "Oh yeah," they'll say. "I always know when I'm going past Albany. It stinks."

Well, it actually hasn't smelled too bad the past few years since they upgraded their equipment, but that's beside the point. No one will be smelling anything out there anymore, because International Paper is shutting down the mill. All the employees--230 of them--will be out of work by Dec. 15. Merry Christmas, Albany.

Two. In other economic news, I lost one of my freelancing jobs this week. The Democrat-Herald cut its entire budget for freelancers, starting immediately.

Here's what I told my editor when he called me with the news: A) I'm not really surprised. With the state of the newspaper industry these days, budget cutting at the local newspaper is hardly shocking; B) I understand that, and I believe him when he told me it had nothing to do with me or the other writers, and everything to do with the bottom line; C) It's not like losing that measly monthly check is going to break me. My "real" job right now is Mom, and we live on what my husband makes. What I make from freelancing is just a nice little extra padding in the budget; D) This will give me more time to work on personal writing projects. No more excuses as to why I'm not actually writing a best-selling novel/fabulous essays/beautiful poetry.

Well, I suppose I could still probably use those darn kids for an excuse.

Bottom line: I am, naturally, bummed to see my job go by the wayside, but to be honest I'd rather the newspaper cut me and the other freelancers--for whom this is NOT their bread-and-butter--than fire a full-time staff member.

Three. What are your thoughts on bloggers receiving products to review on their blogs? It's a hot topic lately, with the FTC even issuing rules governing it. I have limited opportunity for this kind of thing--it's only happened once so far--but I was recently invited to go on a free blogger trip to a vaccine facility (I didn't go), and just last week got another offer for product reviews. Do reviews make a blog seem too commercial? Do you think a blogger is selling out if she does product reviews? Or is it just a legitimate way to try stuff out for free and truthfully inform others about it?

Four. New favorite tea of the week: Green Tea with Pomegranate!

Five. I love my daughter's absolutely unbridled confidence. She currently plans to pursue a career as a major soccer star, and has no inkling whatsoever that it takes a combination of luck and dedication and commitment and athletic skill that only one in a million people have. In her mind, if she wants to do a thing, she CAN do it. Her other favorite career path is artist. After an afternoon spent painting with watercolors today, she told me: "I am SUCH a good artist already. I just think of beautiful things in my imagination, and then I paint them!"

I know someday, probably before she's too much older, the world will knock her down a peg or two. But for now, I just love it that she believes success, not failure, is her default outcome.

Six. My daughter had a play-date with a new friend this week. That means that I had a mom-date with a relative stranger for the first time in three years. There's a little girl at school that Beth likes playing with, she's been asking to invite her over, and so this week the mom and daughter both came over for lunch. And it went SO much better than the last time I attempted to make friends with a strange person just because we have kids the same age. The other mom and I were able to have a nice conversation and the kids played well together. Maybe the lesson here is that 5-year-olds make more pleasant playmates than 2-year-olds.

Seven. I have often said, looking at those infinitesimal Polly Pocket shoes, that I didn't worry too much about the baby being possibly finding one and putting it in her mouth, because I thought they were small enough that they'd just go on through without causing choking or any other damage.

I know now for sure that my suspicions were right. How do I know?

Oh, I think you know how I know.

More quick takes here.

The most determined person I've ever met still wears footie pajamas.

She runs and climbs and dances until she is weary to the bone, and then she requires a pacifier, a parent, a hug, a story, and a death grip on Favorite Blankie before she will simply give in to the exhaustion and go to sleep.



Whenever she starts with her urgent pointing and babbling, I only have to look at whatever her older sisters are touching or wearing or eating, and I immediately know what the source of her frustration is. Do the big girls have it? Then she wants it too. Climbing into our minivan unaided? Eating with a fork instead of her fingers? Getting her hair fixed every morning, even though her entire hairstyle consists of approximately two dozen hairs that I scrape into a rubber-banded top knot that sticks straight out of her head? Well, her big sisters do these things, and therefore Evie will not rest until she does them too.

She may weigh in at a measly 19 pounds--way down in the 5th percentile for her age group--but I don't think she realizes that she's the littlest. In her mind, not only is she a part of the gang...she's darn well going to be the leader of the pack. If they push her, she pushes back. If someone tells her no, she just screams back louder. Accepting defeat is never an option.

One sunny fall day not too long ago her sisters were riding their bikes up and down the sidewalk. Little Miss Evelyn, of course, required a bike too. So I pulled out the tiny wooden trike that she can just barely pull herself onto, and she scooted up and down the sidewalk, grinning like the sun.



Until she lost her balance on the uneven cement and tipped over backward, the tricycle landing on top of her. I could hear the thud as her head hit the ground.

I dashed over, scooped her up, and cuddled her poor little head against me. "Oh, sweetie, I'm sorry," I whispered to her as I cradled her in my arms. "Oh, that must have hurt so much."

And then she pushed back from me. And squirmed. And wriggled until I set her down. She took a moment--just a moment--to steady herself, and then she took off again.





Tears were still running down her cheeks, but that didn't slow her a bit. She was chasing after the two most amazing people in the world: her big sisters.

She may look like a pretty little pixie on the outside, but I think she's actually channeling Winston Churchill on the inside. This kid never, never, never, never gives up.

1. You must now click this link to Frog and Toad are Still Friends, and read the series of Halloween-inspired (read: hilarious and creepy) re-tellings of children's stories that Beck is doing. The Goodnight Moon and Clifford parodies are the best. Go read them. You must.

2. I went to Wordstock last weekend, which is a writing conference in Portland. I went to a workshop about improving plot/finding your story, and then an author reading by Sherman Alexie (who was hilarious! And plus I got a signed first edition of his new book, "War Dances," which was really good.)


But most of all, it was just fun to go and be with my kind of people. Nerds. Lovers of books. Writers. People who stand at a booth all day and hand out a copy-editing test to people who might want to take it just for fun. It was nice to go to a workshop and afterward listen as someone raised her hand and asked a question that started with: "Well, my main character is just so..." and see everyone in the audience--dozens of people--all nodding along in agreement, and realize that it's not that weird to have characters living in your head. There are others like me out there!

3. People who are learning a foreign language sometimes say that they have such a hard time communicating because they "have the vocabulary of a toddler." I don't know what kind of words they are learning, but if I were limited to having conversations that used only words my toddler knows, life would get interesting. Here are the things she says most often:
"Shoes."
"Mama."
"Woof-woof."
"Ball."
"Dada."
"Beh." (that means Beth)
"Shoo-see." (that means Lucy).
"Meow."
"Cheese."

Please construct some conversations using only those words and leave them in the comments for my amusement.

4. After my half-marathon last year, I didn't exactly quit running, but I definitely quit training as hard. I did do a 5K last month where I came in first my age group (Wohoo! Although it was a rainy Saturday and only six people in my age group competed, so don't be too impressed), but since then I've hardly run at all. Well, that needs to change, because I've now agreed to run in the Civil War Relay on Dec. 5 (five legs of two miles each); the Hippie Chick Half Marathon in May (13.1 miles!); and the Hood to Coast Relay in August (the relay is 197 miles total; I'll have three legs, which will be somewhere between 3-7 miles long). I'm excited! And I need to get busy.

5. I finally upgraded my cell phone plan to where I don't get charged 10 cents per text message. I have never been into texting and I still refuse to use abbreviations; you will never get a message from me saying "CUL8R LOLOL!" However, I am kind of seeing the beauty of being able to send just a quick little message to someone that they can read and/or answer at their leisure, rather than a whole phone conversation. Texting. Me. I guess I'm moving into the 21st century after all.

6. I'm also thinking of upgrading my cell phone too. To one that can take pictures! I have had my same cell phone for years. I'm thinking of this one:



Pretty, yes? So sleek and shiny! Anyone ever used the Sony Ericsson W518? Is it a good phone?

7. Since I gave up soda I've been drinking a lot more tea. I'm actually liking it! It's cheap, I can have a wide range of flavors on hand all the time, I can easily switch between caffeinated and non-caffeinated, and I add just a little bit of sugar (or Splenda) to it, rather than the tons that are in a can of pop. And if I drink green tea I can actually pretend I'm being healthy, instead of just drinking something because I like to have something to drink that isn't water. (I'm sorry. I just find water boring and unsatisfying). Does anyone have a favorite flavor/brand of tea that is sensational and I simply must try? Please help me feed my new addiction!

You can read more quick takes at Conversion Diary.

I am currently wearing my husband's sweatshirt, jeans, woolen socks with snowflakes on them, and a headband with a pair of wild antennae attached to it. My 3-year-old insisted that I put it on. I am a queen, and it is my crown.

I spent the whole morning reading a book that my neighbor loaned me because it is due back at the library as of yesterday and I really needed to finish it so as not to rack up her library fines. My own library fines are bad enough.

Right now you can't walk within three feet of my table without getting granola-bar and pumpkin-bread crumbs all over the soles of your feet; remnants of the girls' morning snack.

I have story assignments that I haven't even started working on yet, so I'll probably spend naptime today learning all about either: A) Health care reform; or B) how to build your own rain barrel and/or compost bin.

The never-ending mountain of laundry engulfs my laundry room. I'll probably spend the whole night doing laundry tonight.

When I was still all wet and yucky after my rainy morning run today, my husband put his arms around me and told me that he loved me.

Life. Life is good.

Tomorrow I might be impatient or angry or bored.

But today, I am content.

My girls, lately, have been unicorns nearly round the clock. Not the soccer-playing kind of unicorns--that's only for an hour on Saturdays. No, these are magical, whinnying-and-going-around-on-all-fours kind of unicorns.



But don't let that trick you into thinking that just because they are beautiful, they are weak. Oh, no. The unicorns that live at our house are formidable. They have *powers*. I don't quite know what their powers entail. They have not been fully explained to me. But these magical abilities, whatever they may be, are mighty enough that the word *powers* must be spoken in an intense, thrilling kind of voice.

My unicorns are also carnivorous. Sometimes, the unicorns do their slaying of enemies themselves, presumably slaughtering their fellow creatures either with their horns or with their *powers*. Other times, Lucy takes a break from being a unicorn and becomes a bear, who lives with the unicorns, protects them, hunts for them, and brings back meat for the unicorns to devour. Also animal skins for them to wear.

I'm telling you, these are some freaky unicorns. Capricious, raw-meat-eating, leather-wearing, bear-owning, mythological creatures, capable of murder by means of mysterious *powers,* are living in my house.

Sometimes, they come into my room at night and just stand by the side of my bed, staring at me until I wake up.

Do you think perhaps I ought to be afraid?

Beth just told me that she wished Eric and I had different names.

I went on a total cleaning and re-decorating spree the other day. I moved the furniture all around the living room. I switched pictures, rearranged bookshelves, and pretty much had a grand old time making things pretty.

I'm doing something lame for Poetry Thursday today.

I'm telling you this right away, so if there's anyone here who happens to read my blog religiously, you won't feel all gypped when you read today's poem, and your razor-sharp intellect instantly recalls that I posted this same poem two years ago (apparently my life runs in two year cycles).

I'm sorry for being so unoriginal, but I can't help it. There is no other poem I know of that describes today so perfectly. As I walked to kindergarten today with the girls today, Lucy was gathering pine cones and Beth was skipping along the path through the golden-brown field, and there were just a few crunchy leaves on the ground and a few red-gold leaves on the trees. The sun was out, but the air was deliciously cool, and the sky was a hundred shades of blue.



Can you tell I like fall?

So, in honor of the first day of October and autumn beauty and poetry, here's my favorite fall-weather poem.

October's Bright Blue Weather

O suns and skies and clouds of June,
And flowers of June together,
Ye cannot rival for one hour
October's bright blue weather;

When loud the bumble-bee makes haste,
Belated, thriftless vagrant,
And Golden-Rod is dying fast,
And lanes with grapes are fragrant;

When Gentians roll their fringes tight
To save them for the morning,
And chestnuts fall from satin burrs
Without a sound of warning;

When on the ground red apples lie
In piles like jewels shining,
And redder still on old stone walls
Are leaves of woodbine twining;

When all the lovely wayside things
Their white-winged seeds are sowing,
And in the fields, still green and fair,
Late aftermaths are growing;

When springs run low, and on the brooks,
In idle golden freighting,
Bright leaves sink noiseless in the hush
Of woods, for winter waiting;

When comrades seek sweet country haunts,
By twos and twos together,
And count like misers, hour by hour,
October's bright blue weather.

O suns and skies and flowers of June,
Count all your boasts together,
Love loveth best of all the year
October's bright blue weather.

--Helen Hunt Jackson